Page 102 of Ghost
Mila gasped andsputtered.She squeezed her eyes tight, her arms struggling against the restraints anchoring her on the tabletop.The onslaught of water rushed through the rag covering her face and into her mouth.She shook her head, struggling to hold her breath, but the force of the water made it impossible.
She couldn’t breathe.
Panic assailed her.She kicked and bounced, swishing her head desperately for a gulp of air.
“Stop,” one of the men commanded.The pail landed on the floor with aclank.
Mila shuddered.She blinked against the weight of the soaked black cloth.Every breath brought moisture and droplets into her mouth.The rag was ripped away.She turned her head, coughing and greedily trying to suck in air.
Rough hands grasped her beneath her arms and dragged her off the table.The overhead light shone in her face, making her blink.Her arms and legs hung limply and her head lolled from exhaustion as she was dropped in a corner.Her teeth chattered and her shoulders shook from the cold and shock.
Mila forced open her eyes.Her gaze landed on one of the men who’d tortured her.She committed the harsh lines of his face to memory as he secured her shackled wrists to the chain on the wall.He was unfamiliar, but it didn’t matter.
She’d find him.
“Let’s go,” the man waiting by the table demanded, his arms crossed over his chest.His body language screamed he didn’t want to be there.Judging by the sound of his voice, he was the one who’d told his friend to stop moments before.
The other man knelt in front of her with a smirk.He patted her cheek roughly.“No beauty sleep for you.”He stood and hit a switch.
Bright lights washed over her face.She winced.Her gaze landed on a set of speakers nearby that hadn’t been there before.One of her captors must have set them up while she’d been waterboarded.
Before her brain could register anything else, music came on.The screech of heavy metal shook the ground.
The men left the barn.Mila shifted and lay down facing the wall.Every muscle in her body pulsed and screamed, and the music intensified the pain in her head.
Fear wanted to sink its death grip into her, but she pushed it away.She couldn’t get lost in useless emotions right now.Not when she needed to escape.
She closed her eyes, needing to rest for just a few minutes.Ghost filled her mind’s eye, and for some reason the paw-print tattoo jumped to the forefront.She’d been leery of him when she first noticed the tattoo, but that little design had been one of the first things that’d made her soften toward him.
She thought of his warm laugh and amused gray eyes.More than anything, she wanted to be back at the cabin with him.It was there that she’d fallen for him, where she’d uncovered things about herself while discovering more about him.
It was there that she’d realized she had the strength not just to withstand discomfort, pain, and fear, but to give herself more.To want more.
Her career with Irinia had started off with force and a need to survive, but once she’d become an adult, she hadn’t fought the choices that’d been made for her.It hadn’t occurred to her that she could until now.
No matter what Irinia did to her, she wouldn’t return to work.She wouldn’t kill for no reason anymore.
She wanted to live.
Her limbs trembled.The barn was cold, her body wet and freezing.Memories of the workshop on Ghost’s property assaulted her.But this was different.She knew firsthand how sadistic Irinia was.
She balled her hands into fists and forced open her eyes.Despite the lights and music, fatigue wanted her to pass out.Pain wanted her to give up.Neither of those was an option.
She’d been taught skills, and she’d use them.
Inhaling, she rolled away from the wall, scanning the barn.A jug of water sat near the table, and the wet rag was on the floor.Hay speckled the ground and the smell of farm animals was heavy in the air.Unlike the barn she’d been kept in as a child, this place was mostly empty.
It wasn’t one of their usual properties.There were no weights, punching bags, mats, or other types of training equipment.All evidence pointed to it being somewhere to dump and hold her—either until they “reprogrammed” or killed her.
Until now, she hadn’t thought Irinia would murder her.She’d put too much energy into raising her.But Irinia was a businesswoman: she wanted a solid return on her investment and would use Mila until she couldn’t anymore.
Mila raked her gaze over the barn, pillaging the walls and posts for a camera.Nothing jumped out at her.No flashing lights, no black objects.Her suspicion was confirmed: this was a temporary setup.
Which meant her prison wasn’t ironclad.Windows wouldn’t be properly barricaded, and there was probably minimal security outside.When Boris arrived, he’d have men with him and she’d be wrapped up tighter than royalty.
If there was any hope of escape, she had to attempt it now.
Pushing into a sitting position, she examined the chains on her wrists and the method they’d used to wrap them.The one good thing about chains was that they were more difficult to get supertight around the wrists, especially hers, which were slim.
