Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"You're being ridiculous," I told them once. "I'm not going to be a spy. I'm going to work in an art gallery."
My mother just smiled. That sad, knowing smile that I never understood.
"Humor us," she said. "Please, sweetheart. Just humor us."
I hear a noise somewhere in the hallway, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.
They’re not Nikolai's footsteps.
I know this instinctively, the way you know when a stranger is watching you across a crowded room.
The bedroom door opens wider.
I stop breathing.
Through the gap between the floor and the bed skirt, I watch a pair of black boots enter the room. They pause just inside the doorway, and I can picture the intruder scanning the space, taking in the empty bed, the rumpled sheets, the open bathroom door.
Looking for me.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are."
The voice is male. Low and cruel. Amused. The kind of voice that's used to inspiring fear and enjoys it.
My finger finds the trigger.
"I'm going to find you anyway." The boots take another step. Then another. "It's only a matter of time."
He's circling the room. Moving slowly. Hunting me.
"Holly."
My name in his mouth is like ice water in my veins.
He knows who I am.
How?
"Your boyfriend put up quite a fight." The boots stop beside the dresser. I hear a drawer open, then close. "But I'm afraid he wasn't quite good enough."
No.
He’s lying.
"Nikolai is dead, Holly. I did it myself. A bullet between the eyes."
His words hit me like a physical blow. My vision blurs with sudden tears, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.
He's lying. He has to be lying.
"No one's coming to save you now." The boots start moving again, closer to the bed. Closer to me. "It's just you and me."
I can see his legs now, black tactical pants tucked into those black boots. He's standing at the foot of the bed, probably looking down at the space where Nikolai and I made love just hours ago.
"I'm going to find you," he says, and there's a smile in his voice. A terrible, hungry smile. "And when I do, I'm going to enjoy what Nikolai enjoyed."
Bile rises in my throat.
"Except you won't like the way I take my pleasure." He moves around the side of the bed. "I like the pain. I like the screaming."
I can barely breathe. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I have to use every ounce of willpower not to let out a sob.
"And I promise you..." He stops. His boots are right there, inches from my face. If he bends down, he'll see me. If he lifts the bed skirt, it's over. "You're going to feel pain when I'm inside you."
He laughs.
And it's the most evil sound I've ever heard. Cold and delighted and utterly devoid of humanity.
I grip the gun tighter, ready to fight.
Because if this is it, I’m not going to die without putting a bullet in him first.
He knows where I am. He’s just toying with me.
When he looks under the bed I will shoot him in the face.
I hold my breath.
Then I hear a shot.
I brace for the pain. For the bullet to tear through the mattress above me and into my body.
But the pain doesn't come.
Instead, there's a heavy thud.
And then the intruder falls.
He lands face-first on the floor, his head turned toward me, his dead eyes staring directly into mine. There's a neat hole between his eyes, and blood begins to pool beneath his face, dark and spreading.
A scream tears from my throat.
I can't stop it. Can't control it. All the terror I've been holding back comes flooding out in one long, ragged wail that scrapes my throat raw.
"Holly. Holly, it's me."
Nikolai's voice cuts through the panic.
Alive. He's alive.
Strong hands reach under the bed and grab my arms, pulling me out. I scramble on all fours, dropping the gun, desperate to get away from those dead, staring eyes. Nikolai wraps his arms around me and holds me against his chest.
"You're safe now," he says against my hair. "You're safe. It's over."
I can't stop shaking. Can't stop crying. My hands find his face, his shoulders, his chest, checking for wounds, for blood, for any sign that he might be injured.
But he's solid and warm and very much alive.
"I thought you were dead." The words come out broken, barely intelligible through my sobs. "He said… he said you were dead."
"He lied." Nikolai cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. Those piercing eyes bore into mine, fierce and full of something that looks like desperation. "He lied, solnyshko. You can't get rid of me that easily."
I kiss him. It's not graceful or sweet. It's messy and desperate and tastes like salt from my tears.
He kisses me back just as desperately, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine like he's trying to absorb me into himself. Like he was just as afraid of losing me as I was of losing him.