Page 41 of Night Shift

The relentless pain continued to wash over me. All of a sudden, a desperate, despicable idea took root in my mind. Gasping for air, I managed to raise my head.

The hammer of a gun cocked. The cold steel pressed firmly into the back of my head. Words were difficult to formulate. Thunder. That was the sound I heard as my heartbeat boomed in my ears.

“Good night, Mr. Sheridan.”

“Wait…wait,” I choked out, struggling to form the words. “I have…something…you want.”

Before the trigger could be pulled, one word managed to escape my bleeding lips…

“Samantha.”

Viktor, who had been standing back, observing the spectacle with a detached air, leaned in, his interest piqued. “What could you possibly have that I’d want, Mac?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

I swallowed hard, tasting blood and bile in my mouth. “My daughter,” I said, the words like poison on my lips. “Samantha.”

A murmur went through the crew of thugs. Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “Go on,” he prompted, a cruel curiosity in his voice.

“She’s…beautiful,” I stammered. “Intelligent, healthy, and naive. A perfect…untouched…commodity.”

I could see the wheels turning in Viktor’s head as he calculated the potential of my offer. “And?” he prodded, his interest growing.

“She’s an emergency department nurse,” I said, then coughed. The pain from my injuries shot through my veins like an electric shock. “She can…help you. Help treat your wounded. She’s valuable.” Each word was sputtered out with blood.

The room fell silent. Outside, a car horn blared. I remained immobile, drawing in ragged, labored breaths while I waited for his response. Viktor stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he began to nod.

“It’s an interesting proposition, Mac,” he said, his voice smooth as silk yet dangerous. “But why would you offer your daughter? What does that say about you?”

I had no answer. The truth was too appalling. I had crossed a line, a line no father should ever cross. In my desperation to save my own skin, I had betrayed the one person who should have meant everything to me.

Viktor turned to his men. “Get him up,” he ordered. “I want to find out more about this girl.”

They roughly hauled me to my feet, causing the pain in my ribs to flare anew. All at once, the significance of what I’d just done sank in. I had sold my daughter’s life, her safety, for a few more breaths in this wretched world.

As I stumbled out of the room, supported by the very men who had just beaten me, I knew there was no going back.

They shoved me into a chair in a dimly lit back office, forcing me to face a massive mahogany desk. Viktor sank into a black leather chair behind it, his presence dominating the shadowed space. Resting his elbows on the polished surface, he clasped his hands together and glared at me, his eyes radiating contempt. The room seemed to shrink under his scrutiny.

He motioned to one of his men, who promptly pulled out my phone from his pocket and pitched it at me. “Show me this daughter of yours.”

A few years ago, I’d befriended Sam using one of my fake Instagram accounts. Quickly, I tapped the screen and pulled up her profile. Images of Sam filled the screen, displaying her vibrant life and innocence. I handed the phone to Viktor, and a twisted smile crept across his face.

“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” he mused, his gaze lingering on a photo of her in her nurse’s scrubs, smiling, the caption proudly announcing her first night shift at St. John’s ED.

His next words sent a chill down my spine. “Redheads aren’t usually my type, but for this girl, I’d make an exception. I’d love to see my handprint on her fair, freckled ass.” He chuckled.

One of his thugs, a brute with eyes as cold as Viktor’s, leaned over the desk to see her pictures as he scrolled through. “Looks like she’d be a pretty little fuck, boss.”

Viktor’s attention snapped back to me, sharp and calculating. “An ED nurse, you said, huh?” he asked rhetorically. Then he continued to scroll through Samantha’s account. “She could be very useful. I have men who sometimes need…special attention. Your Samantha could tend to them at my compound in Russia.”

My head spun—not from the beating but from the sheer terror Viktor’s words elicited. The thought of Sam caught in the web of this monster made bile rise in my throat.

Viktor tossed the phone back to me. “I think we might have a deal, Mac. But remember, if you’re lying about her skills or her…compliance…it’ll be you who pays the price.”

He stood and headed for the door. “Let’s make arrangements,” he said, signaling for his men to bring me along. “We’ll need to verify her credentials and…persuade her to join our family. As for you”—he pointed at my face—“you get to live another day. I can’t trust you to deal the dope, so I’m assigning you to one of my brigadiers, Maksim Chernov. You’ll be his shestyorka. He says jump, you ask how high. He runs a tight ship. You mess up and he’ll slit your throat.”

I had sealed my fate, and worse, I’d sealed Sam’s. The road ahead was one of darkness, a path paved with betrayal and regret. In that moment, I understood the true nature of hell—it wasn’t a place but a realization of one’s own monstrous actions, with no redemption in sight.

My mind spun as I thought about what I had doomed Sam to. What kind of father traded his own daughter’s life for his own?

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