We enter what appears to be an office, furnished with chairs and lined with computer screens.
He forces me into one of the chairs, then takes a seat opposite and opens a laptop, his fingers move across the keys.
I use the moment to study the room instead, noting doors and windows, anything that could serve as an exit.
He turns the screen toward me, the security footage from inside the main house already playing. I watch for several minutes as maids move through the rooms, cleaning and drifting in and out of view.
In the corner of the screen, I notice the red timestamp.
It isn’t live.
It’s a recording.
I am about to speak when the front door opens on the screen and a man steps inside.
Milo.
My heart tightens painfully in my chest.
He looks terrible. His hair has grown longer, his beard left untended, dark circles hollowing the space beneath his eyes.
What has happened to him?
He looks almostlifeless.
And as I continue watching, minute after minute, I begin to understand why.
“Tragic, really. I’m told she’s dead. My condolences.”
“No…”
He thinks I…
I lift my eyes abruptly to the man in front of me. He is already watching me, a faint smirk on his mouth.
He gets to his feet and folds the laptop shut.
“Get up,” he snaps. “The boss is waiting for you.”
Everything falls into place.
The realisation leaves me reeling, my pulse races so hard it makes me light headed.
He clamps a hand around my arm and drags me outside toward the main house.
I stumble beside him, trying to keep up, but my balance keeps slipping. When my legs finally give out and I hit my knees, he hauls me back up without pause.
“Fucking whore,” he mutters in Russian.
His hand slams into my face. My head jerks to the side as bright spots explode in my vision.
“Fucking walk, bitch,” he spits, shoving me forward before stepping around me. “Move,” he roars without looking back.
Every step makes my ribs scream. The dizziness rolls over me, so overwhelming that I struggle to keep my balance. The night around us only makes it worse.
And then, despite everything, I surprise him.
He doesn’t expect it. I close the distance between us in a single step, wrench the gun from his side before he can process what is happening, and fire into his stomach. I grab his phone as he collapses.
