Kazimir moves to the far side of the room, pulling out a satellite phone. He turns his back to me, speaking in low tones. I catch fragments—some in Russian, some in English. His voice is tense and urgent.
I can't hear everything, or even understand most of it—I was taught Russian growing up, but I’ve lost most of it—and I have a feeling that’s by design. He doesn't want me to know what he's saying, or who he's talking to.
My chest tightens.
I watch him pace, one hand running through his hair as he talks. He's agitated. Stressed. The conversation isn't going well, it seems.
"—not what we agreed—" I catch that much in Russian before he switches to English, his accent thickening. "I don't care what Ilya thinks. The situation has changed."
Ilya.
My blood turns to ice.
He's talking about Ilya. To someone who knows Ilya.
Oh God.
"—need extraction for two—" More English, too fast for me to follow completely. "—forty-eight hours, maybe less?—"
He's arranging something. Transportation? A handoff?
My mind spirals. Kazimir said he was going to get us out of here, but what if…
What if this whole thing was a setup? What if Kazimir didn't rescue me—what if he just moved me from one cage to another? What if he's negotiating a price right now, selling me to the highest bidder? What if he found out that Iosef had me, and rather than wanting to rescue me, he saw an opportunity? What if Ilya wants a different kind of revenge, and Kazimir is manifesting that for him?
I think of the last time I saw my father, the cold fury in his eyes when he told me I was dead to him. When he said I'd brought shame to the family name.
He didn't mean it metaphorically. He had every intention that I’d die where he sent me, eventually. Whenever the men who bought me got tired of me.
Kazimir's voice drops even lower, and I strain to hear. "—can't guarantee her cooperation?—"
Her.He's talking about me.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Everyone abandoned me before. Ilya, who claimed to love me. My father, who was supposed to protect me. Every single person who could have helped me looked the other way.
Why would Kazimir be any different? Because he said sothis time? Because he looked at me with those pale eyes and promised he wouldn't let anything happen to me?
Words are cheap. I’ve learned that the hard way, and more than once.
I look around the room, searching for exits, weapons, anything I can use to get out of here before Kazimir can turn meover to someone else who will hurt me. My gaze lands on the table near the kitchenette.
Kazimir’s gun is lying on the counter. He set it down when we came in, too focused on getting to the phone. It's just sitting there, within reach.
My pulse quickens.
I could take it. I could leave. I could?—
What? Run back into the woods?I barely survived the last few hours. I'm injured, exhausted, and half-frozen. I’m in no shape to do anything like that. And Iosef’s men are out there somewhere.
But at least I'd be making my own choices. At least I'd die on my own terms instead of being handed over like property.
Again.
So long as I don’t get caught.
Kazimir is still on the phone, his back to me. He's arguing with someone now, his voice sharp. "—told you, it's not negotiable?—"
