Prologue
Igor always had a small bottle on him and would often take a sip when he got frustrated. Whenever he spoke, his stale breath permeated the air.
“I can’t wait to finish her off . But all in good time,” he muttered, staring at her, instinctively touching the scar along the side of his face. He turned to Sergei and snarled in a menacing undertone, “But I have to deal with this idiot first or I’ll never get to sleep tonight.” Igor jerked him up by the rim of his shirt.
“It’s late! We’ve got to get out of here and lock the door! I need to go to bed! The ship will be docked soon and we have to get up in a few hours,” he bellowed, his spittle touching Marina’s hand. She twitched slightly, praying he didn’t see her move.
She lay with her eyes closed and her jaw slackened, fearing he would check to make sure she had her injection.
But he was too busy slapping Sergei around.
“All right! All right! Stop! Calm down! I’ll lock up and we go to bed,” Sergei said, protecting his head from the blows, and opening and closing his eyes in an attempt to get his wits about him.
Igor stormed out. Sergei followed. Marina peeked as the door closed. But when it did close, the key did not swing in the lock. Marina expected to hear Sergei fiddling with the key to lock the door shut, but he took his key out and took off instead.
She heard the engine slowing down, figuring the ship was moving toward shore. Amid the roar of the splashing waves, she noticed the moon shone like a glowing lantern in the air through a small porthole window. She shuddered, recalling the last time Igor had said the ship was docked, he meant they would be unloading the girls. Marina refused to allow her mind to think about the horrors that awaited them.
She had become so thin she was able to slip out of her chains. Marina waited until she was confident her captors were sleeping. Earlier in the day she had overheard them talking about all the work they would have to do soon. Since then she wondered where they were and how the girls would be tortured. She pictured a dark, dirty place far from where anyone could hear their cries.
Marina strained her ears to hear the approaching footsteps or smell the stale whiskey of the night guard. Nothing.
Is this my chance? she asked herself. Images of Igor’s steely-eyed look of pure hatred assailed her. If she didn’t escape now, any day he would wreak a terrible vengeance on her for scarring him with his own knife. She could tell every time she saw him that inside his head he obsessed over finding the right moment to finish her off .
