I press my ear harder into the wood, and I think… I think I can hear something. The swish of cars on a road? Regular, American-accented voices… They’re not near, but if I can hear them, maybe they can hear me.
With a thread of hope, I start to bang and kick on the door with everything I have. I scream for help, as loud and as long as I can.
My throat starts to hurt, and my voice cracks. Still, I scream and scream and slam on the door until it robs me of my voice.
My hands hurt, my knuckles bleed, and pain shoots up my legs. My toes are on fire in my sneakers.
Finally, I don’t have much strength left. I stagger back, almost collapsing, and cross back to the sofa.
I’m scared. I’m thirsty. I’m hurting everywhere.
I want to go home. I want Ilya.
Nausea grips me. In all honesty, I can’t tell if I’ve beengone for hours or one. Ilya may be searching for me, or he may not even know I’m gone.
And Albert?
Oh. God.
Albert.
What did Radimir say? Something like he was taken care of or he was fine or… I don’t remember, but…
I don’t remember, I’d been dazed out of it. And it wasn’t an excuse at all. I’m meant to protect Albert.
My stomach heaves, and I almost throw up.
What if that fuck killed or hurt my dog?
A sob breaks free and slices the air. I shove my bleeding knuckles against my mouth. If he did, I’ll kill him.
Svetlana was there, but sometimes she’s there, and I never hear or see her because she’s off doing something. Same with the other staff in the house. Svetlana only has other girls in a couple of times a week, so maybe she was there, way out the back cleaning or doing the laundry, and she doesn’t know.
If the gate were left open, Albert might have chased after the car. And?—
I have to stop myself.
Albert has to be okay. He has to.
But dread fills me anyway, and I can’t help sinking into doubt and pain. The heart-destroying what-ifs.
“Oh, Albert,” I whisper, my voice rough and rasping even in a whisper, “please, please be all right.”
And Ilya… He’ll blame himself for this. I know him.
And me? What are they going to do? Use me to hurt Ilya? To go after and hurt Demyan?
I can’t…
I breathe in and hold it.
I’m a Yegorov. I’m my own bargaining chip. Powerful men will kill whoever took me. Powerful men will destroy those in the way. They’ll do what it takes to get me back.
And whoever took me won’t like what that’s going to be. Death, pain, retribution. Not just to the kidnappers, but to everyone they know.
Ilya and my brother will do that. Without even blinking.
Suddenly, I still when I hear something outside. Footsteps. Then there’s the scrape of a key. The turning of the big lock. The door screeches open.
