Page 25 of The Cute Psycho

Vanya is yawning by the time the auction opens, and I borrow the binoculars from the table to carefully study every girl that fits Katya's age and coloring.

Hours later, though, we're back to where we started.

"What if..." Vanya starts as we make our way out of the club.

I look down at her, but a man in a black suit comes crashing down into me. I frown as I watch him fumble with some sheets of paper fallen to the ground, helping him pick them up.

"Thank you," he says, looking intently at me, his eyes oddly familiar. Yet I can't say I've seen him before.

His hand lingers a little too much on my own until I shake him off, moving forward and ignoring the way my temples throb with pain.

Odd.

"Hm?" I turn to my sister, briefly distracted.

"What if that man didn't sell her? What if... he kept her?" Vanya asks, and I still, my eyes widening at the realization.

Shit!

I'd focused all my resources to find hotspots of human trafficking,thinking she might end up for sale. But this... Vanya is completely right.

What if he kept her?

"Then we need to double our efforts and find out just who Misha's partner was."

Partners... He'd mentioned plural.

"We can do this." Vanya nods at me confidently.

"Indeed," I reply.

We'll find everyone involved. And when Katya's safe and back home, I'll refocus on getting Vanya's killer.

Who would have known, though, that the clock was ticking?

And not in my favor...

5

SISI

PRESENT DAY

"Where exactly does it hurt?" Sister Magdalene asks me, and I lower my head slightly, feigning pain in my stomach.

She makes me stretch on the infirmary bed while she pats around my abdomen.

"Here?" she asks, and I give a low moan of pain. Her brows knit together in concentration. "What about here?" She moves her hand lower, and I react to the motion by squeezing my eyes shut.

Stepping away from me, she shakes her head, pursing her lips and regarding me pensively.

"I think we got a new shipment of painkillers in the back. Let me go look for them," she eventually says, propping me against the pillows and leaving the room.

I almost feel sorry for what I'm about to do, since Sister Magdalene is a sweet lady. She can be a little grumpy, but she's never been anything but nice to me.

How I wish she would have been in charge of the infirmary when I was younger.

All the injuries I'd collected over the years have created a mosaic of scars on my body. Maybe things would not have been so dire if she'd been...

---