Run straight to the forest. Be wary of the ground and your footing. Survive the night. Don’t drink the wine. The second game begins at sunrise. My wife is here. My wife is here. My wife is here.
I’m pacing around the room again when lunch is brought in, my head feeling clearer by the hour. My shoulder still hurts, but it’s not as bad aswhen they popped it in, just a bit sore. I look down at the tray placed inside. Protein, vegetables, rice. Nothing I can take with me other than another small water bottle. Once again, I pace myself while eating, chewing as slowly as I can, inhaling deeply when I feel like I want to throw up so I don't lose it. I need whatever little strength I have.
When I'm done, I go back to pacing but decide to take a quick nap to conserve whatever energy I have from the food.
The door to my room squeaks open.
Alice is followed by guards.
My anxiety hitches.
I sit on the metal bed so she can reach me.
She puts the collar on me and I feel when she latches it closed. I keep my eye on the door. She hands me a bag, and the guards turn to leave when they see I’m not a danger but stay just outside of the door in case Alice calls for them. She grabs her tablet and begins to tap something into it, looking up at the monitor on my throat every now and then.
I quirk a brow and keep my voice low and between us. “What’s this?”
Alice sighs and mimics me. “It’s clothes. Again, this is a game to them. If you’re in white scrubs, it makes it too easy to spot you. But I put an extra thermal shirt in there for you and socks. Double up. Stay away from the right side of the property. There’s a deep pond you can roll into easily… Rub your chest, not your hands. It’s going to get cold tonight, and it’s snowing. I did what I could.”
“Did you find my wife?”
“Not yet. I’ve been down here since this morning. But I have a plan of my own if you survive the night.”
“Rub my chest, not my hands.”
“Stay awake,” she says with finality and leaves.
I change into the black cargo pants I was given, double up on the thermal shirts, put on the fucking… turtleneck and both pairs of socks. There’s no fucking shoes. I shove the water bottles and bag of dry cereal in my pockets.
Run straight to the forest. Be wary of the ground and your footing. Stay away from the right side of the property. Rub your chest, not your hands. Stay awake. Survive the night. Don’t drink the wine. The second game begins at sunrise. My wife is here. My wife is here. My wife ishere.
I siton the bed and wait.
Chapter Eighteen
Maksim.
There are about fifty of us being ushered out of the hallways of whatever we’re in. Now that I can see clearly and the lights aren’t as blinding out here, it looks like a cross between an emergency clinic and the warehouse Rossi and Bianchi use to train our men. I look up, seeing cameras in every corner we pass. I swear to god they’re following me, rotating with every step we take closer to wherever it is they’re shoveling us to.
The hallways are getting colder. Even with wearing a shirt and two thermals and double the socks, I can feel how fucking cold it is outside. My heart rate skyrockets, preparing myself for whatever is coming. We take a flight of stairs. Then I'm shoved outside into the bitter cold.
It’s dark.
But there’s a full moon.
Bright lights are on to the right of me.
My heart stops as I take in the array of men in coats on the balcony staring at us.
And in the middle… one white puffer coat.
Sabrina.
I can’t see her face; the halo of light behind her makes her appear like a fucking mirage, but I know it’s her. I would know my wife anywhere. In any lifetime.
I’m shoved once again to face forward, but I want to look at her. One by one, we’re stopped, lined up like fucking prisoners. More guards come and the cuffs are taken off our wrists and ankles, dropping to the floor in a heap. I keep sneaking glances behind me, trying to get a better view. Instructions are given—something about a horn.
But I already have mine.
