Across from me, the Russian shifts another curtain aside, exposing a second door. He’s already halfway through, stepping into a pitch black hallway, though it’s not dark enough to hide the gleam of a shiny padlock hanging from the latch.
My life flashes before my eyes.
The next headline waiting to happen.
True crime’s newest darling.
“Wait!”
CHAPTER 7
Riley
The beast of a Russian stops in his tracks and turns.
The second he does, my brain instantly regrets my mouth’s decision to cry out for mercy.
“Fuck you!”
That’s what I should’ve said.
Or Go to hell.
Or I’d rather bleed than beg.
But no. What came out?
Wait.
His eyes lock on mine, dark and unreadable.
A wolf weighing the rabbit’s next move.
Will she run? Or kneel?
And from the way his mouth curves, so fucking sure of himself, he’s good either way.
I lick my dry lips, nerves on edge. Am I really doing this?
God, I hate myself for giving in.
Then I look around—really look.
Pretty walls.
Opulent furniture.
Zero windows.
Where the only person who hears you scream… is you.
It’s not just a prison. It’s a coffin.
The question isn’t am I really doing this?
It’s—what other choice do I fucking have?
A dizzying wave of walls-closing-in hits me. I wrap both arms around myself to stave off another round of hyperventilation.