Page 103 of Ghost
She wiggled her arms, twisting and turning her hands at different angles.Alexei had shown her how to get out of chains, though that’d been years ago.She turned her wrists so the insides touched, then pressed them together as tightly as she could.A little bit of slack appeared on the outsides.
Not much.Maybe not enough.
She grimaced and began rubbing her wrists together in a back-and-forth motion.The skin on her arms screamed, chafing the already bleeding flesh.She ignored the sting.
After a minute or so, more slack appeared.Gritting her teeth, she slid her right hand backward.All she needed was to get one hand free.Then the chain would slide off.
Her skin pinched and tore.Sweat collected on her face.The contrast of hot and cold was enough to make her ill.Blood touched her palms, but she didn’t slow as the chain moved over the back of her hand and stopped right before her knuckles.
She panted, dropping her hands and lowering her head.Defeat swirled around her like a flock of angry birds.The deafening music vibrated the walls.Alexei’s image entered her mind, urging her on.Pushing her.
Her mother’s voice came next.Tears rushed down Mila’s cheeks.Maybe this was where her life had to end.After all these years, perhaps it was time to be reunited with her family.Time for the pain and tortuous memories to end.She sniffed but didn’t lift her hands to wipe her eyes.Couldn’t.The fatigue was too great.
Momma, what do I do?
Ghost stormed into her mind.Loud, protective, and dominating.If he were here, he wouldn’t let her give up.He’d carried her up a hill, pulled her from a river, brought her joy she’d never experienced—nor invited.But that was Ghost.He didn’t wait for an invitation.
He’d come for her.
And she’d be damned if he found her dead because she’d given up.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, she lifted her head.The metal cut fiercely into her bones.Her clammy skin was swollen from the harsh friction.If she pushed the links any further, they’d rip off her knuckles.
She stared at the chain in the blinding light.If she could move her thumb...
Tucking her thumb tightly to her hand, she strained it around the link.The small socket threatened to pop, but she managed to slide it free.She gasped as the slack increased—and she slid the chain over her hand.
She shook off the metal and pushed herself to her feet.Pride inflated her body, but her legs buckled and threatened to send her to the ground.She stumbled to the wall and clung to the wood for support.She had to hurry.
The men had left her beneath the bright lights and blaring music for a reason.They wanted to break her.To have her barely hanging on when they got back.
But if they came to check on her, she was done.
She stumbled around the speakers and out of the glow of the fluorescent lights, blinking away the orbs from their assault.Her knees wobbled and her head spun but she kept going.The door wasn’t far.Just across the barn.She scanned the room.Tools hung on the wall.The large metal shovels, racks, and other gadgets would surely be suitable as weapons, but they’d be too heavy and awkward to carry.
She reached a tool bench and found a hammer and screwdriver.After tucking the screwdriver into the back of her yoga pants, she gripped the hammer and walked toward the barn door.With each step, she earned a little more strength.
Her heart pounded as she reached the door.Trepidation swirled in a wild storm in her belly.Fear bit into her sides, preventing her from charging outside.Her fingers twitched on the handle of the hammer, ready to strike.As she inched open the door, all the moisture left her mouth.
The cold December air hit her wet clothes, making her skin pucker.But the crisp air was silent.She slipped out.Had she been in the barn in Russia, there’d have been guards and—
A man’s laugh boomed from around the corner.The crunch of boots on gravel made her freeze when she really needed to flee.The corner of the barn was less than ten feet away, the other corner three times further.She’d never make it in time without them seeing.
Instinct outweighed indecision.
Tightening her grip on the hammer, she ran in the direction of the noise.She swung just as one of the men rounded the corner.The man dodged, and the steel end of the hammer whacked his shoulder.
“Fuck!”he bellowed, seizing her arm.“Get her, Wes!”
Panic sizzled her nerve endings.The other man, Wes, tore the weapon from her, his hold punishing.His fingertips bit into her flesh as he steered her toward the barn.“How the fuck did she get out of those chains?”he spat.
She needed to fight them.If she let them tie her up again, she’d never get free.
“You locked her up!”
“Shut up.”
Her bare feet scraped over the rough, cold stones.The barn door loomed.Using all her strength, she threw her elbow into Wes’s abdomen, throwing him off balance.She spun around to face him and slammed her open hand against his jugular.
