AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Natalya would be dead. And it would be my fault.
I can’t let that happen.
“Fine,” I grind out. “Where should I meet you?”
My father gives me the address for an abandoned warehouse about a fifty-minute drive from here if I push the speed limit all the way. That means I have ten minutes to throw on some clothes and find a way to sneak out. Luckily, I have been paying attention to the shift changes, and if I can be ready in five minutes, I should be able to slip by them. I grab the handgun I used the night Theo got shot, thankful I had not given it back yet. If I am going to be walking into the lion's den, I am going in packing.
Four and a half minutes later, I am dressed and hidden around the corner of the kitchen. I watch as the guard coming to relieve the on-duty one bypasses the surveillance room door down the hall and heads to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. When he busies himself with the coffee machine, I tiptoe down the hall past the door and round the corner that puts me next to where the car keys are kept. I grab the keys for one of the electric cars off the wall because I know those do not make much noise and unlock the door. Then I wait for the guard to come back to the surveillance room.
He stops in front of the door with the two cups of coffee in his hands and kicks the door a few times. The second the door opens, I slip outside and head for the cars.
I know the safehouse does not have any cameras inside; all the surveillance is on the outside of the building. I also know the two guards changing shifts will stand and chat for around five minutes before they switch and start monitoring the cameras again. Which means I have five minutes to get the car started and leave without them seeing me. Hopefully, by the time they discover I am gone and check the footage, all of this will be over.
I get to the warehouse a few minutes ahead of time. My father’s men are waiting for me outside.
They do not pat me down, and for once I am thankful that my father underestimates me. They escort me inside, their sleazy eyes moving over my form the whole time. When we get into the main area, my father is in the middle of the room, talking to one of his men who is standing over a woman tied to a chair.
The very first thing I notice is that the woman is blonde. Natalya has always worn her hair a dark brown. The woman’s frame is also much frailer, and she seems shorter.
That is not Natalya.
It’s a fact I am very happy about for a split second because this woman has been tortured to the brink of death. A pool of blood surrounds the chair, and her arms hang limply at her side. I am not even sure she is still alive.
“Katherine.” My father grins like the cat that caught the canary. “Good to see you again.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “The feeling is not mutual.”
My father laughs. “My daughter, ever the jokester,” he says to the man next to him.
He turns to me and his smile drops. “You have caused quite the ruckus lately.”
“Says the one who tried to have me killed.”
“Do not think that because I am amused at one thing you said you can address me so disrespectfully.”
He walks over to me, and it takes everything in me to stand my ground. The years of living under my father’s roof have ingrained a certain fear of him in me. I am sure it will take a while to work through that trauma and break the habit.
My father grips my chin, turning my face to each side. “You look well.”
I pull out of his grasp. “Where is Natalya?”
“So naïve.” My father chuckles. “In case you haven’t noticed, she is not here. She never was.”
Dread hits me.
Through the stress of thinking she was in danger, the thought did not even occur to me that my father could have been lying. It should have.
Which means I came here, alone, for no reason.
My father watches as the realization hits, a sneer on his face and his eyes alight with joy. “She gets it now.”
Schooling my expression, I nod towards the woman. “Who is that?”
“One of the women from the club.” My father shrugs nonchalantly. “She outlived her purpose.”
I had almost forgotten how twisted my father is. Almost.
My father tips his head to the side. “You know what that means, right?” He pauses for a brief moment. “We have a spot to fill.”
