Page 25 of Ghost
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Mila shuddered beneaththe blanket.The wind screamed through the open door and was intensified by the fans.
For a brief moment of insanity, she’d let down her guard.Worse, she’d told the asshole her real name.
God.Alexei was probably turning in his grave.
She fought the rush of self-criticism.It wouldn’t be helpful right now.Plus, she wasn’t the only one who’d made a mistake.Her captor had given her water and an anti-inflammatory.She still had a dull headache, but the incessant pounding was gone.
Her other aches and pains were still present, but she could deal with sore muscles.She’d lived through much worse.She let her gaze roam around the room.Earlier, she’d spotted a camera facing her.The tiny red light had told her it was recording.
But he had to sleep at some point.
She had one element working against her—the cold.At least she didn’t have frostbite.The blanket had probably helped with that.
She curled into a ball beneath the quilt and wiggled her feet to encourage blood flow.That conversation with Irinia tried to crash back into her mind.She didn’t want to think about the heinous woman who’d stolen her from her family.Who’d used her.Turned her into something she’d never wanted to be.
Shame squeezed her heart.It’d been years since she lived beneath Irinia’s thumb.When Mila turned sixteen, Irinia had shown her a news article revealing that Mila’s whole family had died in a car crash.
She’d carried that horrific moment ever since.
Numb.Sick.Alone.
That was her fate whether she liked it or not.
She’d never sought out their graves.What kind of daughter was she?She just couldn’t bring herself to see their names etched in stone.A part of her life forever nailed shut.
At least now maybe her mother had closure.Mila held on to faith that when they’d passed, God had shown them where she was.That’s what kept her heart beating.
Dying wouldn’t be so bad.She didn’t even have Alexei anymore.Losing him had been unexpectedly painful.She’d cried many tears for the man who’d been the closest thing to a father she’d had since she was nine.
Even if that man’s role in Russia’s intelligence service was what’d led her to this very fate.
A child spy.
Surely only someone evil would place a child in that position.
Alexei was hard on her.But in his own way, he’d shown her love.He’d given her the strength to continue, to find the part of herself she wanted to live for.
Mila drifted in and out of sleep.Hours later she woke to frigid cold.The ibuprofen had worn off bringing back the headache, although less intense.It’d been over twenty-four hours since she ate.If it weren’t for the water he’d given her, she probably wouldn’t have woken at all.
Come on, Malyshka, dig deep.
Pushing herself up, she looked at the camera.He could be watching her, though she assumed it was the middle of the night.
Still wrapped in the quilt, she shuffled closer to the wall and made use of the bucket.Then she moved to where the shackle was hooked to the pipe.Grabbing the thick copper, she shook hard.The metal rattled, but she couldn’t spot any loose point other than a pipe fitting.Scanning the floor, she searched for a tool.
She needed a wrench.
As if she could see whether he was watching or not, she glanced at the camera again then crawled across the floor to the tool bench.The chain tugged on her ankle, keeping her from reaching it, but she could see several tools hanging on one of its sides.
Including a wrench.
Shit.So close yet so far away.
She wet her lips and searched the floor again.The chair was too far, but the blanket might be of use.She coiled part of it into a tight strip then snapped it toward the tool bench.
The tools clattered.
