“Like what?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
I press my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my breathing.
My mind races. I need to get out—now. I need to slip through the hallway and back into the bathroom and out the window before they notice me.
I take a deep breath, then gently push open the bedroom door and step into the hallway. Just one more step, and I’ll be in the bath?—
SLAM.
I know right away what it is. The bathroom window doesn’t just have a crappy lock—it also has a nasty habit of shutting on its own.
Both of the men’s heads snap toward the sound, and I manage to rush back into my bedroom before they notice me.
There’s nowhere to go.
I don’t have a second more to consider just what the hell I’m going to do before the first man appears in the doorway.
Our eyes meet.
“Shit! She’s here!”
I grab the lamp from the bedside table and throw it at his head. He ducks, and it shatters against the wall next to him.
“Don’t let her get away!” he shouts.
I bolt for the door and try to shove past him, but he catches my arm, yanking me back.
“Let me go!”
“Boss wants you alive,dorogoya. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
The second man is already there, blocking the other side of the hallway. There’s no way out.
I twist anyway, trying to wrench free, and manage to knee the first guy in the stomach. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for me to break away.
But the second man is already moving, grabbing me from behind as I try to rush past him. He locks his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground.
“No! Stop! Please!”
“Relax. We’re not going to hurt you. Boss just wants to confirm?—”
“Confirm what?” I’m screaming now, kicking, clawing. “Let mego!”
“That it’s really you,” the first man says, straightening up and rubbing his stomach where I hit him. “Teodora Fetisov.”
The name makes me freeze.
“What? What did you just say?”
“Teodora—”
The shot is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it. Just a softpfft, like air escaping a tire.
The first man’s head snaps back with a red mist. Then he’s falling, crumpling to the floor in a heap.
The second man—the one holding me—goes rigid.