Page 21 of Ace of Shadows
“No! I have n-nothing to do with drugs or planes or anything! I’m not a criminal. I don’t care about whatever Mafia games you’re playing. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I want my dad! I want to g-go be with my mom!”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” she yells between sobs. “Who the fuck are you?”
I stand slowly, wary in case she decides to run and further injure herself. “I’m the only chance you have to live, Ivy.”
7
IVY
Ispent all night crying myself to sleep while trying to wrap my mind around everything Ruslan told me. The plane was some important thing between two warring families in New York and now each family thinks I had something to do with the crash?
And Ruslan has kidnapped me but justifies it by telling me it’s for my own safety.
Safety that I don’t care about.
I just want my mom.
By the time morning breaks, my eyes are puffy and stiff and my throat burns from the hours spent crying. Between that and the aching headache, likely from dehydration, I feel like shit.
It’s tempting to stay in bed and let the world pass me by, but the thought of anything further happening to my mom twists my already sensitive gut. So I drag myself out of bed and into the ensuite, where a steaming hot shower washes away the sweat of my three-day fever and the salt of crying all night. The steameven helps my eyes feel less swollen and eases my burning throat each time I breathe. It’s a wonder I managed to keep the cast around my ankle dry.
After washing, I start to pat myself dry but my reflection in the mirror is so starkly different from normal that I screech to a halt and stare at myself.
My cheeks are sunken and hollow, my eyes red-rimmed and painful, and the wound on my forehead that stretches into my hairline stands out against my pale skin like an angry scar. Clumps of wet, tangled hair frame my face, and several bruises cover my shoulders and torso, leading all the way down to the incision just below my ribcage. That must have been where the nurse said I had surgery for internal bleeding.
It’s such an out-of-body experience to feel like no time at all has passed since the crash, but my body shows strong signs of healing. Four days unconscious after the crash, three days unconscious from fever and however many scattered in between when Ruslan drugged me.
The crash feels like it was just a day or two ago, not over a week.
Closing my eyes, I cover myself with the towel and hug myself while trying to make my mind go blank. I’m tired. I’m lost. And I want my mom.
After my shower, I dress in a loose T-shirt and soft jogging pants I find in a drawer in my room, then I wander the apartment to satisfy my curiosity. Despite being held here against my will, the freedom to explore is a nice concession.
The place is huge. There are three other rooms like the medical one I’ve spent most of my time in, a huge kitchen and loungearea, another corridor filled with closed and locked doors, an entertainment room, and a fully equipped gym.
That’s where I find Ruslan.
He’s got his back to me and he stands in front of a large window overlooking the city. Topless, his muscular back rolls and ripples in waves while he lifts dumbbells above his shoulders, then back down to his waist.
Despite everything, he’s painfully attractive. It was a nice distraction when sitting across from him at the table eating my eggs. His eyes are so blue it’s like gazing up at a warm sky in the middle of summer, and his ear-length hair is just long enough to caress his face in sweeping curves. Never mind his mouthwateringly muscular build. In another life, I’d ask for his number at a bar and get all giddy over the prospect of texting him.
Not this life, though.
I hobble into the middle of the gym just shy of a weight bench and grip my crutch while trying to stand as tall as I can. “Take me to see my mom.”
Ruslan doesn’t even falter in his workout. “No.”
Irritation pulses through me. “I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
“And I said no.”
“What’s stopping me from just walking out of here?”
Ruslan grunts softly. “About a hundred security procedures and biometric ID at the door.”
My stomach tightens faintly. Biometric ID? What kind of place is this? “I bet I could find a way past all of that.”
