Chapter 24
M ila’s head swam. Her forehead throbbed, and a low ringing sound pulsed in her ears. She tried to open her eyes. The ringing grew louder. Nausea slammed against her throat. Saliva flooded her mouth and her heart jackhammered in her chest.
She had to calm down. If she threw up, she’d probably pass out.
Breathe. Then you can think.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a slow breath in through her nose. When the nausea subsided, she took stock of her body. She sat upright in a chair, her wrists bound in her lap. The weight on her arms told her it wasn’t tape or rope that constrained her. She moved her wrists. Chains rattled.
Panic flooded her.
She snapped open her eyes. The room spun and the need to vomit hit her again. She swallowed. Her mouth was as gritty as sandpaper.
She sat in front of a table. The smells of hay and animals filled her nostrils, transporting her back in time. It wasn’t the same barn as Irinia’s. Logic told her it was impossible she’d been taken to Russia. But the illogical part of her brain had been thrust back into the past.
Once again, she was a terrified little girl wanting to feel safe.
This time it wasn’t her parents she longed for. It was Ghost.
Where the hell am I?
She didn’t dare try to swivel her head around. Not until she got her bearings. She scanned the room with her gaze. Even the table in front of her was positioned like the one in Russia twenty years ago.
A lone chair sat across from her.
Fear crawled up her neck, its tiny legs like metal tacks in her nervous system. She brought her attention to the chains binding her. Shackles surrounded both of her wrists. The steel loops were secured to the tabletop.
Irinia.
Tears stung her eyes. Tears of fear. Anguish. Anger.
She’d been stupid to think that she could escape Irinia. That the sick, twisted woman would ever stop torturing her. But this? Chaining her up in a barn again? It was a mindfuck on steroids.
Irinia knew how to get in Mila’s head.
Mila had broken the ties that’d bound her to Irinia, though. The woman had been effective in her brainwashing over the years, but all that had receded when she met Ghost. He’d brought her to life again.
The wooden door on the opposite side of the room rattled open. Irinia stepped inside. She was in shadows, but her rigid posture was unmistakable. As she walked further into the barn, the light reached her. Bathed her in a warm glow.
It’d been months since Mila saw her. Irinia preferred to spend most of her time in Russia, but she traveled to oversee their US operation several times a year. Boris lived in Reno, Nevada, but had workers like Mila stationed everywhere.
Irinia walked up to the table but didn’t sit. She pursed her lips. Disdain wrote a novel on her weathered face. “Stupid girl,” she spat. “Falling for a target. Pathetic.”
Mila clenched her fists. “You’re the only one who’s pathetic. Why are you hanging on to me so tightly?”
“I’ve always wanted what’s best for you—”
Mila scoffed. Tears, hot and ready, rushed to her eyes. “What’s best? You took me from my family when I was nine years old! You’re delusional.”
Irinia shook her head and looked away. “You will never understand the sacrifices I made. Your family was poor. Do you know your mother cleaned the studio at night to pay for your classes? You’d have had the same fate as your mother if it weren’t for me.”
Mila’s lip trembled. “My family loved me. Something you took away. You turned me into a murderer.”
Irinia’s mouth twisted with mockery. “You can’t turn someone into a murderer, Malyshka .” She spat the name Alexei had fondly called her. “You might not see it, but I did. A calculated competitor, tireless, smart. All I did was lead you into your destiny. You were made to kill.”
A chill swept over Mila’s skin. “That’s not true. I hadn’t even known violence until you took me. Until I witnessed your men kill. You’re a monster.”
“If I’m a monster, what do you think Alexei was?” Irinia’s voice boomed through the wooden building. “It was his idea, you know.” Ice coated her taunting words.
“You’re lying.”
Irinia shrugged. “Don’t believe me but it’s true. He saw you dancing, said you moved like a killer. His instinct was on point. It took him months to convince me to see what he saw.”
The tears were like acid rain on her cheeks. Mila shuddered. Alexei was the only person she’d warmed up to in those horrible years—and Irinia wanted to tarnish that. To steal from her the few fond memories of the moments in which she’d seen Alexei’s kind heart.
Mila leaned forward, her legs shaking but not from fear anymore. Not even from adrenaline. Right now, she was the cold-blooded murderer Irinia had created. “I. Will. Kill. You. Then I’ll be free of you.”
Irinia squinted. “Oh, dear girl. You’ll never be free.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her puffy black winter coat. “You’ll be punished for your transgressions. Neo was one example.”
Mila stiffened. “What’d you do to him?”
Irinia chuckled. “He was too soft. He should’ve called me immediately when you didn’t confirm the target’s death.” She shrugged. “He knew the rules.”
Fury increased her body temperature. “You—”
“Do you like the space? You know Boris, always grabbing property for training wherever he can.”
Mila blinked, stunned by the sudden change in the conversation.
“It’s not really designed for training, though. We don’t have that kind of equipment here. This is more or less a reprogramming facility.” A sinister smile crinkled the thin skin around her eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been away from us too long. You’ve lost touch with our roots and the foundation we built your values on.
” A sad, distant look crossed Irinia’s face.
“Of course, it was hard once you got older. We realized that if you didn’t have some semblance of your own life, you could, well, turn.
I just didn’t expect that your programming would slip so easily—and for a man, ha! Such a disappointment.”
Frustration rattled inside Mila. “You’re not making sense.”
“You’re going to stay here for the next eight to ten months. Boris will be here shortly to start the reprogramming. While we wait for him, we’ll de program.”
Anxiety filled Mila’s gut. She shook her head, unable to grasp the woman’s meaning but knowing with every cell of her being that Irinia was planning something sadistic.
She pulled a phone from her pocket, dialed a number, and pressed it to her ear. “Yes, you can come to the barn now. We’re ready to get started.” Irinia’s eyes sparked with malice.
The blood drained from Mila’s face, leaving numbness in its wake.
***
Denis withered and twisted. More blood pooled on Ghost’s floor. Sweat drenched the asshole’s collar.
Ghost shook his head with disgust. “When you’re done crying like a little bitch, we’ll talk before I take your other kneecap.”
Zain smirked and August chuckled. Rami had just gone to the front door to let in Brick.
“Whoa.” Brick whistled as he walked in. “Looks like you guys are just getting started. I take it he’s got intel for us?”
Denis huffed angrily behind the tape.
“Says he doesn’t,” August explained.
“Ah. Like I thought, just getting started.” Brick’s brown eyes flashed with mock understanding. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward a few inches to get Denis’s attention. “Take my advice, bro. Tell us where she is. This’ll get ugly real quick.”
Denis mumbled something.
Rami nudged Ghost’s arm. “Just got a text from Taschen,” he whispered. “He got a good look at the plate and started tracing.”
Ghost gave a firm nod but didn’t feel any hope. Without a definite location, he was fucking lost. Fury tinted the edges of his vision. He was done playing.
“Oh, shit,” August murmured, seemingly reading Ghost’s face.
Denis’s withering stopped. His eyes widened as Ghost knelt in front of him.
He gripped the edge of the duct tape and ripped off the adhesive.
Despite the free waxing, Denis didn’t flinch. His eyes grew small. The room fell silent.
Ghost placed the mouth of the silencer against Denis’s femur. “I ask questions. If you hesitate or don’t answer, I shoot. You scream and I slit your throat. Understand?”
Denis nodded. Droplets of sweat dotted his upper lip.
“Easy peasy,” August said.
Zain snorted. “I doubt he makes it through the first round.”
“What does Irinia want with Mila?” He needed to start with simple questions and get Denis talking. What he really needed to know was if Irinia planned to kill Mila or if she wanted her alive.
Denis didn’t blink. “She’s pissed Mila didn’t complete the job. That makes us look bad—and Irinia never looks bad.”
“They’re keeping Mila alive?”
He wet his lips. “Irinia gave orders not to harm her.”
That was a start.
“What’s she want with her?” he repeated.
Irinia either wanted Mila to return to work or to pay for trying to leave. He was going to bet the latter.
A flicker of hesitation crossed Denis’s face. Ghost waited, his finger on the trigger. “What?” he pressed.
Denis didn’t take his eyes off Ghost. “Mila was given too much freedom. Irinia made the mistake of thinking she’d fully converted her. She was wrong.”
Confusion curled Ghost’s lip. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Denis swallowed. “There’s a process for people like Mila, who break free from the brainwashing. It’s a matter of reprogramming. And it ain’t pretty.”
Distaste seized Ghost’s windpipe. The way Denis spoke about Mila, as if she were some kind of robot or animal needing to be trained— Fuck , he couldn’t take it.
He ground the silencer deep into Denis’s thigh. “Where are they keeping her?”
Denis panted, his eyes wide with panic. “A-At a farm. I don’t know anything else, I swear. Boris told Irinia he had a place ready for Mila. I know he bought something outside the city but I never saw it.”
Ghost scrutinized Denis’s expression. The fear pinching his features, the tremors of his body, the stench of body odor.
“I think he’s tellin’ the truth,” August said.
No one else said anything, but he didn’t need confirmation from his colleagues. He needed a motherfucking address.
And he wouldn’t quit until he got it.
Ghost pulled the trigger. The bullet entered Denis’s flesh and hit the bone with a sharp crack .
Denis’s mouth twisted. Ghost held his finger to his lips, reminding him what would happen if he screamed.
The man’s coloring changed rapidly. The blood drained from his face, leaving his skin pale, then sickness took hold, turning him green then gray as he flopped on his back against the wall. Blood oozed from his leg.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Ghost finally said. “But I need a lot fucking more. You’d better think quickly about where that farm might be before I shoot your other leg.”
Rami clamped a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. “Bro. I think he needs a sec.”
Ghost jerked out of his friend’s hold and stood, meeting Rami eye to eye. “I don’t have a fucking second and neither does Mila.”
Rami raised his hands. “I get that, but if you keep shooting him, he’s gonna pass out and be no good to you.”
“He’s no good to me without a goddamn address.”
“Wait a second.” Brick scratched his stubble. “Gimme his phone.”
Ghost passed it over.
Brick flicked through the mostly empty device. “He was texting his buddy. I assume that’s the asshole who took Mila.”
“Yeah.” Ghost worked his hand over his face, his patience shallow.
“We can trace his friend’s number,” Zain said. “See what cell tower it pinged off last.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Brick said.
Zain shrugged. “It’s a start.”
Ghost nodded. “Do it.”
Irinia’s team was as professional as they came. These weren’t your run-of-the-mill criminals. These were elite assassins, for being clean, covering their tracks... and never slipping up.
His only hope was that Irinia’s emotional attachment to the situation would make her misstep. If not, they might never find Mila.
His chest tightened. Denis’s words rushed through him: It’s a matter of reprogramming. And it ain’t pretty.
Ghost’s legs weakened. If they touched her, hurt her, he’d burn down the fucking world.