Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
I must have a death wish because only someone who wants to die spits into the face of the man commanding every single move they make.
My breath comes out in short bursts when Ghost tugs a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit to soak up the mess. I’ve seen it before—most notably when it was cleaning up the mess between my legs this morning.
It reminds me that our playing field is more even than originally thought.
That he has as much to lose as me.
“What will he do when he finds out you touched me?”
Ghost scoffs at me. “I haven’t touched you. Not once.”
“Your thumb was on my lips, and your precum was in my mouth… twice!”
He looks like he wants to slap me, but instead, he puts his fists through the wall next to my head. It dusts my shoulder with wood fibers and makes his eyes the most dilated they’ve ever been. “Then they’re dead. You ordered their deaths. You killed them. Not me.”
“Them?”
Guilt flashes through his eyes for barely a second before he unpins me by taking a step back. “I will tell him you’re not feeling well. That you want to stay in tonight to double the chances of the insemination working.”
It isn’t guilt on his face anymore when I ask, “What did you put inside me?” It is remorse.
“Goodnight, маленький ягненок.”
“Ghost…”
I follow him to the door, but he is too fast. He’s out of the sterile room and walking down the hallway before my hand circles the deadbolt lock.
20
GHOST
“дядя.”
Lera races across the marbled floor to fling herself in my arms. She squeals when I spin her around before I bob down to her level. She is only four and short for her age, so it is a long drop.
“How is my favorite niece?” I ask her in Russian, aware her English isn’t as good as mine since she’s never left this compound. “Have you been a good girl for Momma?”
Tiny lines sprout out of the scar that runs down her forehead and across her right eye before stopping at the base of her ear when she screws up her face. “Momma is sick.”
I peer up at her nanny behind us while asking, “What kind of sick?” I return my eyes to a pair identical to my sister’s in every way. “Was it like she was when you went to build a snowman while you weren’t wearing a coat?”
The muscles in my arms spasm when she shakes her little head. “No. She is sick like Alyna was—” I clamp my hand over her mouth to stop her words before signaling for Rusha to move closer.
“You can’t tell anyone Momma is sick, Lera. Do you understand?” She doesn’t appreciate my barked words any more than Katie, but she understands I’m only cruel to keep her safe. She is the reason I fall in line.
“I understand, дядя.”
I ruffle her hair, doubling the drop of her lip before instructing for Rusha to give her as much ice cream as her stomach can handle.
“With Зефир?”
“You can have as many marshmallows as you want as long as you don’t tell anyone Momma is sick.”
“Okay,” she mutters in English, willing to do anything for a sugar hit.
After tugging her in for a hug so my thigh blocks her good ear, I say to Rusha, “Keep her away from festivities for the next couple of weeks. She’s too young to understand the consequences of her words.”
She dips her chin in understanding before taking Lera’s hand and guiding her to the industrial kitchen preparing tonight’s feast. Kirill won’t be happy when I announce his new bride isn’t well enough to celebrate their nuptials, but I’m confident once I tell him we’ve begun artificial insemination, he will forget his anger.
To him, a virginal bride is nowhere near as vital to his plans as a virginal mother.
The bible says that we can learn from Mary how to be bolder in obeying the world of God.
Except in this world, Kirill is God, and we are his parishioners still seeking his ultimate Virgin Mary.
21
KATIE
My head pops up from my knees when a whoosh sounds through my ears. On the ship, I wouldn’t have noticed such a minute noise, but in the quietness of my room, I could hear a pin drop.
For the first time in hours, my heart beats with something other than heartbreak. There is a white envelope at the base of my locked door. It is addressed to Kate.
The scars on my knees when I was forced to kneel on tacks for hours creak along with my weary bones when I rise from my crouched position and make my way to the door. It is late. My body clock is alerting me to this more than anything, but I can’t sleep.
Hailey’s near kidnap keeps repeating like a movie in my head, then my thoughts shift to my parents.