Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,8
and vanilla of his drink.
Before I can even comprehend what any of this means, he is gone.
* * *
Throughout the evening, time creeps forward in the way that it always does during these events. Sluggishly. I’m waiting for my pill. The only thing that separates day from night anymore. Eventually, the door opens and the other slaves are brought in. The men have been sated and now it is time for them to conduct business and leave us here in the basement.
There are three other girls here this evening. They walk into the room like zombies in their drugged states and slide down the wall onto the cement floor. I could tell them what to do right now, and they would not argue. The addiction is the only thing that matters to them. The next fix. They do what they are told and then they get what they want.
We have common ground, but I don’t trust them. I can’t. Because the last time I tried to bond with another slave, she told Arman. My parting gift from that short friendship was a broken arm and a dislocated jaw. A reminder of what happens when you betray Arman.
I stare across the void that is my cell and examine the girls faces. They are all young like me. Thin and probably pretty once. Now their eyes are sunken and their skin dull. Cracked lips and dry, brittle hair. It makes me wonder what I must look like to them. What I look like at all. I can’t remember anymore.
I want them gone, I decide. Because we are not alike. That’s what I tell myself when they stare back at me too. I just want to be left alone where I don’t have to worry who to trust or what to say. I want to go back to counting the lines on the wall, but then I remember the truth. My mind is too fragile to accept it right now. That my hope has been snatched away from me so easily. That I’m not getting out of here in seven days.
That I’m not getting out of here at all.
Unless I find another way. The chains around my ankles aren’t long enough to wrap around my neck. I know because I’ve tried. Everything in this room has been considered. Examined. And when that failed me, I tried to leverage the only power I had. Provoking Arman and even Karolina into a state of violence that would finally set me free. But that never worked either. I’ve considered every option at my disposal, and the pills were the only thing that made sense. The only option I had left.
And now they are gone.
The numbness is dissipating again. The carefully constructed sanctuary I created to protect myself has been fatally wounded by the stranger with the blue eyes. I hate him. I hate him so much a tear actually squeezes from my eye.
I need the numbness to survive. And he took that from me.
Now all I have is this room. My silent thoughts. And these girls who stare at me like I belong here. Like we’re the same.
“What did he do with you?”
The skinny brunette with an accent breaks the silence. It takes me a moment to understand her question is directed at me. I’ve seen her before, but she’s never spoken to me. So why now? I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone.
She mistakes my silence for apparent confusion.
“The fourth man,” she presses. “Mr. Nikolaev. Did he fuck you?”
They all lean closer, waiting for my response. I still don’t answer.
The brunette turns to her friend. “See, I told you, a sadist.”
“No.” The blonde shakes her head. “I don’t believe it. She doesn’t have a mark on her.”
“What does it matter?” the third girl asks. “Why do you want to know what he did to her?”
“Because,” the brunette explains, “Alexei Nikolaev is a recluse. He never leaves his house. Never comes to functions. He doesn’t own slaves, and he has never even been to an auction. Yet, he came here tonight. It is a huge thing. There are always rumors, but to see him in person… even Arman was surprised. He didn’t want him in here with her due to his reputation, but nobody says no to him.”
“What sort of reputation?” one of the other robots asks the same question that’s in my own head.
“He is a Vor,” the brunette whispers. “Red Mafia.”