“It will become my job too,” she insists.
I kiss her forehead, then each of her cheeks. Letting my fingers drift through her hair, I can’t stop touching her and savor every second I have with my baby girl.
Simi smiles, sleepy and pleased, then snuggles closer. I hold her until Ivan mutters, “Time’s up.”
Carefully, I get up, lifting my sleeping daughter into my arms. I carry her to the single bed in the other room and softly set her down.
“I love you more than anything,milo moe.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, my chest fills with unspeakable pain, then I pull away and leave.
When I come down the steps, I hear a heavy footfall behind me and glance over my shoulder. Seeing Boris, I hurry to get out ofhis way, and as he stalks past me, he grumbles, “Come. I want you to give the bastard truth serum so he’ll talk.”
Shit.
Having no choice but to do as I’m told, I follow my father to the torture chamber.
I avoid looking at Georgi as I rush to the cabinet, and taking the syringe and ampoule out, I attach a needle and get everything ready.
“Tell me what happened at the meeting!” Boris demands from Georgi.
“Nope.”
“Which routes do you use?” Boris asks another question.
“Christ, I’m going to die of boredom long before you decide to kill me.” Georgi’s tone is taunting and blatantly disrespectful.
“Hurry, Nina,” my father snaps, and I jump with fright before I jog closer. I hate myself as I push the needle into the side of Georgi’s thigh, his muscle tensing.
When I step away and dispose of the injection, Georgi keeps his gaze trained on Boris, who chuckles darkly as he sneers, “The truth serum will make you talk.”
My father watches Georgi with the same cruelty he always has when dealing with me.
The chains keeping our prisoner upright rattle when his legs begin to shake.
Standing to the side, I take in the dark bruising covering his torso and back, the sight of it causing a wave of nausea to roll through my stomach.
Boris waits until Georgi’s breathing begins to change before he continues with his interrogation. “Which routes do you use in America and Europe?” Nothing from Georgi. “What was the meeting with Petkov about?” Again, he remains silent.
Boris shouts one question after the other, asking about routes used to move weapons, the contacts who receive shipments on the ground, and the ports the Cosa Nostra uses.
My father sounds more and more agitated as the minutes creep by, without any answers.
I notice instantly when Georgi’s eyes lose focus, and holding my breath, I fist my hands as I watch the serum take effect on him.
Suddenly, it seems as if something unseen takes hold of him and confusion ripples over his features. “No,” he whispers, his tone hoarse.
My heart constricts, and even though Boris asks more questions, I don’t hear them. I’m fully focused on Georgi as he shakes his head harder, panic flaring across his face while his breathing turns ragged.
“Wake up!” he shouts, his voice filled with fear.
My eyebrows draw together, and I lift a hand to my neck.
The chains rattle when he jerks forward as if he’s trying to get to something, the desperation and terror coming from him raising the tiny hairs at the back of my neck.
The drug isn’t making him spill the answers to all the questions, but instead it’s either causing him to hallucinate or to relive a horrible moment from his past.
“Raya!” he shouts as he strains against the shackles. He lunges hard enough for the steel to cut into his wrists, and when one of Boris’s men steps closer, Georgi twists his body with savage expression darkening his features, and he sweeps the guard’s feet from under him. “Get away from her!”
The violence in his voice makes me flinch and take a step backward so he can’t reach me.