I’m scared, so scared that I’ve grown a little numb.
Because they know—Melor knows—I’m pregnant. How long has he followed me? And how the hell did he get into the hospital?
It’s not a huge hospital, and it’s private, but it’s big enough. People come and go to hospitals; it’s the nature of hospitals. But how long has he been here, and how does he know the layout? How does he know where the empty floors are?
My mind spins.
Suddenly, voices fill the space from down the hall. I try and listen.
“What do you mean, he’s not here?” Melor screams in Russian at the orderly minion as they pass my room.
I hear a reply, but I don’t make out the words.
It doesn’t take a genius to know they’re talking about Ilya, which fills me with dread.
I don’t like how the orderly minion answers him in softer, calming tones, like he’s used to Melor and knows how to handle him.
Before Melor and friends kidnapped me, he’d been pleasant, nice…lovely, to me and to others around.
I can see why Ilya trusted him when he needed someone to trust.
He passes the smell test on the first run.
But he unraveled when he took me. At least, that’s what it seemed like. Now? He sounds completely unhinged.
His voice rises in rapid Russian, barking orders. Something about lookouts, guns. Things being ready.
The quiet tones from the other man no longer seem to work.
A realization barrels through me.
He’s dangerous. A loose cannon. Whatever held Melor together before isn’t working now.
And the more he unravels, the more unpredictable he’ll be. And that never bodes well.
I tug at the cuff, but it’s too tight. The bed’s too solid and state of the art for me to break it.
What I want is Melor closer so I can hear him completely, because I don’t know what he’s capable of. Worse, I don’t know his plan.
If I knew that, I could…
What? I almost laugh. Do something?
I guess I could try and talk him down, but I don’t think he’s in the mood to talk.
He’s not going to ask for a ransom, and he’s got to know who my brother is. Between Demyan and Ilya, he must know he can’t win.
I bite my lip.
So what’s his plan here? To use me as bait to lure Ilya so he can kill him?
I shudder at the thought, my heart clenching extra tight.
I lost Max. I refuse to lose Ilya, too. I need to do something.
Shit…
I look around wildly, and my gaze falls on the pristine side table. I drag myself up along the bed, but the table isn’t in reach, like someone just threw it in here.
