That hope is short-lived. “Downstairs,” Yuri tells me. “I can show you around it if you like.”
“Maybe later. What else do you do?”
“Swimming. Running.”
“Please stop detailing your various torture methods. What d’you do for fun?”
He scrunches up his face. “Cycling?”
“Yuri! Please just tell me one thing you do in this place that isn’t absolutely horrendous.”
“I practice… shooting?”
“Yes!” I clap him on the shoulder. “Now, we’re getting somewhere. What do you shoot? Where d’you shoot?” My eyes go wide. “Who do you shoot at?”
“Not who, I shoot at targets.”
“That’s cool. I can pretend they’re people. Lead the way. Wait!” I grab his forearm. “Do you have a gun on you, right now?”
“That would be illegal.”
“Eh.” I wobble my hand from side to side. “For mere mortals, sure. But can’t you get special dispensation? After all, you’re protecting a billionaire. Don’t they have a licence you can apply for?”
“I’m protecting you,” he says with an amused smile, proving that his blank veneer can be cracked. Chalk one up in the victory column. “Unless you’re fantastic at faking poverty, you’re not a billionaire.”
“Funny guy.” I narrow my eyes. “You said that would be illegal, but you didn’t say no.” I reach for one of the many bulges under his suit jacket, but he easily catches my hands and twists me around to hold them behind my back. “Spoilsport.”
“I’ll ask if we can go shooting tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“Because Mr Balabanov doesn’t want you leaving the house today.”
“And do we always do what Mr Balabanov wants?”
“Yes,” he says, releasing me.
“Lackey.”
“Yes.”
He stares at me for a while longer, then I hold up my hands. “Fine. Tomorrow. But just know that I’ll be imagining your face on one of those targets.”
“Fair enough. You’ll never guess what I’ll be imagining on them.” He points back inside my room. “Now, would you like to watch TV?”
He poses the question like I’m a child instead of a woman approaching thirty with the same speed a car approaches the bottom of a hill when its brake lines have been cut.
“Yes. I would like that very much.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
BAXTER
It’s mid-afternoon when I get to the club. At home, my sister Meri is taking care of Sophia. A special treat because, although my sister enjoys her niece in small doses, it’s unheard of to have her attention for the entire day.
Not one to miss an opportunity, Sophia is introducing her to every doll in the extensive collection. Something I can easily verify since I’ve linked the feed from her cameras straight to my phone.
Before I head inside, I click onto the app and watch her for a few seconds. To think I nearly lost her empties my mind like a tossed eggshell. Rage spills forth to fill the hollow.
