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“He would be using another name.” I pace the bedroom, my mind swimming. “When Rurik paid off Denver’s victims, he changed their names and moved them away so Denver couldn’t find them.”
“We’ll find him.” Wilson hardens his tone. “Now we know he’s male, age forty-two…” He pauses. “Dr. Rhett Howell is forty-two.”
Panic floods my chest. Adrenaline spikes, and the roar of thunder fills my ears.
But it’s not thunder.
It’s Leo.
He explodes out of the room with Kody on his heels. I disconnect the call and race after them, my exhales sharpening as fear bursts past my lips.
“Call her guards!” I shout at them and fly down the stairs, dialing The Ghost.
I catch up with Leo and Kody in the entryway, their phones held to their ears as they bark orders at the guards and sprint out the front door.
The pain in my chest is excruciating, threatening to bring me to my knees as the phone rings.
It rings in my ear at the same time an unfamiliar ringtone sounds behind me.
I freeze, the air leaving my lungs as something sharp flies past my head, grazes my scalp, and impales the doorframe before me.
Several strands of my hair fall from the blade of a fillet knife.
The fillet knife.
My heart stops. A cold sweat breaks out. Leo and Kody pause just beyond the open door, their expressions twisted with shock and confusion.
Slowly, I force myself to turn toward The Ghost.
And I come face to face with Oliver.
Holding his phone, he disconnects the call, his features unreadable as he says in Russian, “Let’s have a little talk.”
60
Frankie
—
Consciousness returns slowly, dragging me from the depths of a dreamless void. Groggy and disoriented, I blink repeatedly, unable to clear the milky cloud that blurs my vision.
I lie on my back, legs extended. Wrapped in a soft cocoon of bedding, my body feels heavy and unresponsive, as if crushed beneath an unseen force.
Struggling to breathe, I sluggishly piece together flashes of memory.
The needle. The duffle bag. Rhett.
Panic flares, sharp and consuming, and I realize I can’t flail. I can’t move my limbs at all. My heart thunders, booming so hard it pressurizes in my ears. I try to scream, but my throat remains silent, my lips unmoving. I can’t even gasp for air.
Complete muscle paralysis.
Don’t freak out, Frankie. Don’t let the fear take over. Stay calm. Find a way out.
I feel every sensation in my body, and that acute awareness dominates my thoughts. I focus on my heart rate, commanding it to slow. Sweat trickles down my forehead, pooling in the hollows of my eyes.
My eyelids respond, opening and closing. I encourage them, trying to regain my eyesight.
Slowly, the haze over my vision recedes, revealing a dimly lit room, the air cool and musty.
