My body goes cold with dread. I’m on the verge of screaming when the silhouette separates itself from the cluster of darkness in the corner and lunges forward, quick as a flash, to clamp a hand down over my mouth.
“Now, now, little kiska—don’t make any noise.”
I stare at Isaak Vorobev with wide eyes. Surely I’m still dreaming. Surely this isn’t real.
But his cologne smells real. His hand feels real. His voice sounds real.
“I’m going to let you go now. Don’t scream. Nod if you understand me.”
I nod slowly. True to his word, he removes his hand from my mouth. I try to form the words that will help me understand what’s happening.
The rain has ceased, but it’s left behind an inky grey sky. The moonlight can’t get past the shadows, so the room stays shrouded in darkness.
Still, my eyes a
