Prologue
In which Cora makes a plan.
Cora…
It’s been three weeks.
I think.
I scratch a mark on the stone wall next to the horrible little toilet in the corner every day, based on when He comes to see me. I don’t want him to see the marks, so it seems like the right place. He’s fastidious - and there’s an irony - and would likely rather set the entire house on fire than get near anything related to bodily functions.
He comes to see me every day. I think it’s every day though I can’t prove it. There are no windows here, just the stone walls, a stone floor, and a mattress in the corner opposite the toilet and sink. The single light bulb above me is always on, a thing I’ve come to see as a privilege since I spent the first few days in the pitch black until He made me promise to behave.
I hear footsteps down the hall outside my metal door, and I steel myself, He’s coming.
Carrying fresh clothes and a little food and water, He smiles down at me fondly, as if greeting me is the highlight of his day.
“Hallo Liebste,my favorite,” He says fondly.
“Hello,HerrSchmidt,” I reply through my teeth, gritting them against the waterfall of obscenities that want to pour from me.
He smiles down at me, barely out of reach of the length of the chain attached to the floor and the manacle on my ankle. He made that mistake just once, coming within reach and the thick scabs down His left cheek and neck are still healing.
“And how did you sleep,Liebste?”
“Quite well, thank you.” I almost gag as I say the words.
“Good, good!” He says warmly, “Because I have a surprise for you later. Why don’t you tidy up?” He chuckles at my expression and leaves, the steel door clicking shut behind him.
My legs are water and I fall to my knees, wrapping my arms around my midsection, pressing my forehead to the rough stone.
Iwillget out of here.
Iwillkill Him.
Chapter One
In which there are bad guys and there are really, really bad guys.
Dario…
“Soaring Eagle, are you in position?”
There was a click in my earpiece and an exhausted sigh. “Really, Dario?”
I chuckle, checking my ammo clip for my 480 Ruger. The most powerful handgun in the world. I like to stick with the classics. “Stealth mission, brother. Refer to me as Big Daddy D.”
“I am not calling you Big Daddy D,” Yuri Morozov snarled.
“You just did,” I said gleefully. “Is your team in position?”
“Yes,” Yuri said, “west and south points. Also, I am going to beat the shit out of you when this mission is finished.”
Shrugging, I said, “If it’s not to the death, it doesn’t count.”
“And you wonder why no one ever wanted to spar with you at the Ares Academy,” he said. “Perimeter alarm disabled.”
“Syncing time and coordinates…” I murmur, checking my digital readout.
