Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say.
The man grunts, glaring at me.
“I’m going to pee myself.”
He grunts again.
“I don’t know how all this works.” I nod to the stacks of server towers. “But my bladder is very full. What if some of it trickles into the electronics? Won’t your boss be mad?”
He looks at me longer this time, thinking. “You’ll try something.”
I shake my head. “What can I possibly try? You’re twice my size, and you’ve got a gun. I was injured in the car crash. I think I’ve got a broken rib. I’ve definitely got a concussion, since I passed out.”
“Hold it in,” he says gruffly.
“I can’t. I’m not kidding.”
He huffs. “Wait here.”
I almost let out a delirious laugh. It’s the most useless instruction he could’ve given me. Where am I going to go?
He returns a minute later. I press my legs together, partly to put on a show, but also because I’m seriously worried I’m going to have an accident.
“Don’t try anything,” he snaps, approaching me.
He unlocks my cuffs, grabs my arm, and drags me down a dimly lit hallway.
The bathroom is small and lit with a bright fluorescent bulb. He pulls the door open and nods inside.
“I can’t go with you watching me,” I say.
“Then piss on the floor here. I don’t care. No servers here.”
“Imagine I was your mom or your wife. Are you seriously going to make me do this with you watching?”
A flicker of humanity enters his hard expression. A small one.
He backs up down the hallway, but still faces the door. The toilet is partially blocked by the wall.
“This is the best you’re getting,” he grunts, aiming the gun.
I go into the bathroom and do my business quickly, then sit there, wondering what I’m going to do. Or if I can even do anything. My head is splitting down the middle and—
Suddenly, an alarm cuts through my thoughts. My head explodes from the violent noise.
I think of that girl, last year, with the shellshocked eyes. And I think of Daniel Mercer. And I think of my mother and my little brother, and the fact Maksim told me he loves me.
Standing, I grab the back of the toilet, the heavy lid, and lift it. I press myself against the wall.
Gunfire erupted all around us. Men are roaring. Distantly, I wonder how something as simple as texting has turned my life upside down so fast.
It’s difficult to hear the man walk down the hallway over the chaos all around me, men screaming and the never-ending cacophony of bullets.
The man walks into the bathroom, begins to turn—
And I smash the heavy toilet lid over his head. He grunts and slides to the floor. I kick him, screaming as I probably break a toe, then I grab his gun and aim it at him. I back up to the wall, hands shaking, vision blurring with adrenaline and the pulsing in my skull.
“Don’t move,” I hiss when he tries to stand.
He moans groggily, his hand twitching.
Oh, no. Did I kill him?
I breathe slowly, trying to stop my hands from shaking. I don’t even know if the safety is off. I try to fiddle with it, but I don’t understand guns, and I still can’t tell. I just have to hope… but even if I need to use it, will I be able to?
I’m not sure how much time passes like this. Maybe it’s my messed-up skull, but I find myself imagining what Maksim would think if he could watch me now. Would he be proud? Would he be shocked? Would he want to make me his Bratva queen?
Minutes drag on, and the gunfire keeps going. The man eventually passes out. I bite my lip, knowing he shouldn’t be lying on his face like that. He could suffocate.
He was going to kill me.
That still doesn’t change the oath I took.
I approach him carefully, then place the gun within arm’s reach. If Conrad’s men charge into this hallway, I’ll have to use it. But how will I know who Conrad’s men are and who belongs to Maksim?
One problem at a time.
My body protests as I rearrange the man on the ground into the recovery position. When I check his pulse, I feel a weak beating. He makes a groaning noise. He’s conscious, at least.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”
The door at the end of the hallway suddenly bursts open.
I stand, my vision hazy, and raise the gun quickly.
A huge man is striding toward me, a weapon in his hand, blood flecking his face and hair. I get ready to pull the trigger, to fight my way out, until he lets out a shuddering breath and I realize who it is.
I step over the barely conscious man, dropping the gun, then burst into tears as I collapse into Maksim’s arms.