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Anastasia Lenkov wants to live a normal life as a nurse after escaping her old, brutal life. But her past keeps catching up with her. She is on the run from the Russian mafia, because her father, the boss, will n...
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The painful feeling on my wrists made my eyes slowly open.
My head spun for a moment and I opened my eyes completely. I blinked slowly to see the surroundings more sharply.
I was in a basement with no windows. I moved my head slowly to the side and saw that blood was on the walls.
Looking down at myself, I saw that my feet were not touching the floor.
I still had my sweatpants and sweater on. A few blood splatters were visible on them, probably from the incident with the men in front of the car.
My shoes were removed and I was barefoot. They probably thought I had more weapons in my shoe.
I looked up as another burning pain came from my wrists. Around my wrists were chains, each ending at a point on the ceiling.
All my weight was carried by my wrists where cold chains touched my skin.
I was hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the dark room. Once again, I looked down at myself to my legs, which were hanging in the air.
They were not chained together.
These fools.
I moved my head back up to look around the room. This movement alone caused more pain to my wrists and the chains rattled silently.
The room was surprisingly large with a large steel door at one end. The floor and walls were made of stone and near the door were two chairs and a small table.
Something rattled outside the large door and a key turned in the lock. Someone is coming in here.
I closed my eyes and lowered my head down as if I were still unconscious.
The door opened and loud footsteps entered the room. From the sound of the footsteps, it was only one person. The door closed again a short time later and I heard it being locked from the inside.
I tried to keep my breathing as slow as possible as the footsteps approached me.
The person stopped in front of me and scoffed after some time before the footsteps moved towards the side with the chairs.
A squeak echoed in the room as the person sat down on a chair. I heard a brief rustle and a few clicks.
I kept my head lowered and opened my eyes just a little bit.
My gaze lingered on the figure cleaning his gun on the chair. His head was lowered towards the gun and his attention was fully focused on the weapon.
I looked at the small table next to his chair and there I saw a glass of water.
Again, I looked at the man who was busy cleaning his gun with a white cloth. He was young, probably 22, maybe a new recruit?
