“Dude, I don't know her!” Ilya says. “Why is she covered in blood?"
"That's what I'd like to know," I murmur. Ilya’s gaze is still fixed on the unconscious girl and I nudge him sharply with one elbow. “You need to get your ass to Adam’s bachelor party. I'm going to be running late. You need to be there."
“But…” His brow furrows. “Shouldn’t I call building management?” he asks. “Shouldn't they be handling something like uh, whatever this is?"
Logically, I can see why he's asking. However, he’s been adjacent to the Bratva world long enough that it surprises me he’s still bleating, “Shouldn’t we call theauthorities?”
Roman is raising his eyebrows meaningfully from just inside the door and I look at Ilya again. “Get your ass to the bachelor party. I promised your brother I'd make sure you are there and you do not want to disappoint him. And what ismuchworse, not getting there on time makes me look bad, right?”
“Well, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Sure, I get that. I'll just…” he gestures with his beer bottle back at his door. “I'll just, you know. Get ready.”
“Ilya.” He looks back. “Don't call anyone. I'm going to handle this.”
He shrugs uncomfortably. “If you say so.”
Kir is speaking quietly, urgently into his headset, patrolling the long hallway. Someone further down opens their door and instantly shuts it again after seeing his forbidding expression. The rest of the floor is silent as a tomb.
Demid passes him with a nod, meaning the other direction is clear before heading to me. “There are no other signs of struggleoutside of the apartment. I already messaged our tech team to pull the security footage for the last week. It looks like there’s cameras in the unit, they’re hard-wired differently, so we can’t tell if they’re operational yet.” He looks at the girl I’m still holding. “Would you like me to take her while you speak to Roman?”
My arms tighten around her and she makes a small sound of protest. Even with the blood streaking her pale skin, she’s beautiful, the silver-blonde hair, like the sun and moon mixed. Her eyes are midnight blue, I saw her color before she passed out. I’ve been holding her for a few minutes with no strain, she’s light as a feather, a tiny thing.
“I’ve got her. Put in a call to our friends at the NYPD. Let Detective Marshall or O'Halloran know that there’s no need to send out a unit. I don’t want anyone else trampling through the evidence.”
He nods, his phone already to his ear as I head back to Roman, who’s still standing next to the bloody door. “What have you found?"
His mouth is tight, an angry slash. “We're running another quick check to make sure we caught everything, but this place iswired.”
“Wired how?”
“It's like a fucking cattle fence, except for human prisoners,” he says. “Given how this is put together, if she was wearing that collar, I can't believe that she got through the door without getting shocked to death.”
“She nearly was,” I say grimly. “I've got to get her medical attention right now, I'm taking her to the clinic.”
“Good idea,” Roman says. “I have guys downstairs to discourage security from coming up here. They’ll keep them away from you.”
Kir and Demid step in next to me and hustle us over to the service elevator that they've kept clear. Looking down at her pale face as the door closes, I shake my head.
I’m not surprised that she was trafficked. It's not even that she was imprisoned in a luxury building. There's plenty of sick fucks in New York City with too much money and absolutely zero moral code.
It’s that she ran to me.
People runfromme, nottome.
There are always women, drawn by my money, or power. But no one has ever sought protection from me. She flew like a bird straight into my arms, believing that I would save her.
My Aston Martin SUV is waiting at the back entrance of the building, the motor already running and a security guard is quietly cornered by one of our men to keep him from coming over. He watches, oddly indifferent, as I slide into the car, still holding her in my arms.
“The apartment was wired toelectrocuteher if she tried to escape?” Kir says quietly.“Iisus Khristos, what the fuck.”
“We’ve seen a lot of sick shit,” Demid says, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “A cattle fence for humans.”
“Agreed,” I say. “See how many traffic laws you can violate getting us to the Morozov clinic within the next fifteen minutes.”
Demid grins. “Always happy to try, sir.”
Roman must have called ahead, because my mother is already waiting for us at the clinic when we arrive. “What happened?” she asks, hurrying over, her stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “Roman would only tell me you were bringing in a badly injured girl with… electric shocks?”
She’s frowning, looking the girl over as she helps settle her onto a stretcher with practiced, smooth motions. “Do you have a name?” she questions.
