Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t he come, Lena? He always comes. My friend and I were going to share the money, but when Alek didn’t arrive, he decided he didn’t want to be my friend anymore. And now I’m at square one again. Fucking alone.” She raises the gun again, a tear leaking from her eye. “Because you took him from me.”
I raise my hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to make you feel lonely.” That’s the only thing I manage to say. She’s expecting some kind of response, but I don’t know if I can give her the one she’s looking for. One she won’t shoot me for.
She begins laughing and crying and looking around, as if she’s trying to remember where the fuck she is. My heart hammers in my chest, and I glance in the direction of my kitchen. Fuck, there’s no knife or anything else on the counter I could use as a weapon.
“As if you didn’t already have enough. Family. Rising to stardom. But you had to take him as well?” She bites her bottom lip, bewildered. “Maybe I should cut one of your fingers off and see if he’s willing to pay a ransom for that?”
Another shiver runs down my body as I fight against crippling terror. No, if I panic, I’ll make it worse. But can it get any worse? I’m literally stuck in my own apartment with a psychopath right now.
“Oooh, I know! Luckily I came prepared,” she says, nodding with excitement as she puts her hand in the pocket of her green coat and pulls out a sheathed blade. She puts her gun down on the edge of the TV cabinet and unsheathes the knife. I swallow and take a step back.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she scolds as she steps forward menacingly. “I mean, what’s a finger to a singer? It would be worse if I slit your throat, right? Then how would you sing?”
A lump is caught in my throat as she steps toward me. Fuck. I can run around the counter and pull out a knife, but what if I don’t make it in time? And what will I do? Stab her?
Protect yourself.
It’s a distant voice in the back of my mind but one that takes precedence as it tries to take over my raging fear and shock.
What if I do die here? Who would be sad to see me go?
A pair of green eyes are the first thing to come to mind, and a tear slips down my cheek. Alek would be sad, right?
The front door bursts open, and I’m so shocked, all I can do is take a few steps back as Alek breaks into the room and rams into Cinita. The TV knocks off the cabinet as he slams her hard into the wall, and she screams.
A tall, blond man I don’t recognize stands in front of me. He’s covering me, but I’m angling myself to look over his shoulder, unable to move or speak, frozen in place.
Cinita’s face twists into a soft, bewildered expression. “You came,” she says, sounding relieved even though Alek holds a gun under her chin.
“Look away, Lena.” Alek’s voice is labored. But I can’t. He looks like the light to her world, her eyes locked on him.
“You wouldn’t hurt me, right, Alek?” she breathes.
“Look away, Lena,” he says again.
Cinita smiles as she begins to cry. “Alek—”
Bang.
I jolt under the deafening sound of the gunshot and stare in shock at the blood that splatters against the wall. I can’t breathe.
I immediately bend over and hurl as I hear the sound of Cinita’s body slump to the floor.
“Lena,” Alek rasps. I can’t help but raise my head, shocked, as if in a daze. But when I look at him, my vision is laser focused as he takes a wobbly step forward. My eyes widen at the knife protruding from his stomach.
“Are you okay?” he breathes, struggling to take his next step.
“Alek!” I scream as I push the blond-haired man out of the way to catch Alek as he falls.
“Fuck, I’m calling your sister,” the man says with an English accent. But I can only focus on Alek, my fear and terror gripping me for an entirely different reason now.
“Alek.” My voice screeches as tears spill over my cheeks. It looks bad, there’s a lot of blood, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it.
His hand reaches for my face as he slumps back, and I catch him in my arms. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.
“Stop talking,” I breathe out. What do I do? What do I do? “Aleksandr, don’t you leave me!” I cry, and it’s the weakest I’ve seen him. But also the kindest as he stares at me lovingly.
He becomes blurry as tears continue to spill over. “Don’t leave me!” I say defiantly. “It’s going to be okay.” I try to turn my head to locate the Englishman so he can help, but Alek’s grip is surprisingly firm against my cheekbone.