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Money, or distance. That was what she would be asking herself at this point, as I knew she had little of the first. Her file said as much.

And every day Yakov brought me nothing was another day closer to the morning I would walk into that infirmary and find her gone… and that was not fucking happening.

“You have as long as she gives us,” I said, hating that I had no idea how long that would be, and knowing exactly what a flight risk she was.

“And if she runs?”

“Then our men take her the same day, and they hold her until I come for her.” I let that sink in before issuing my threats, “And Yakov. Not one hand on her. Not to move her, not to quiet her, not for any reason a man might invent as an excuse for himself on a long drive. If she has so much as a mark on her when I arrive, I will want to know which of them put it there, and you will not enjoy watching what happens next… Am I understood?”

“Understood, Boss. Let’s hope she stays put,” Yakov replied, and I knew him well enough to know that my instructions would be carried out to the letter and my threat taken seriously.

“That would be ideal, yes,” I agreed. Though given what I had planned for our next few visits, I very much doubted it.

“Or you could simply take her now.” His suggestion had merit, yet despite this, I already knew how I wanted this to play out.

“No,” I stated firmly.

“Boss…”

“Not from a prison. Not with her frightened and running when I have no idea who she really is.” I heard my own voice change and didn’t much care for it. “When I take her, I will take her the right way. In a place and time of my choosing and when every door in that place is mine.”

There was a silence on the line, and it went on slightly too long.

“You know, I’ve got to say, boss, that in nine years, I have never once heard you speak about a woman like this,” Yakov said carefully, and I gritted my teeth at this, knowing if it had been anyone else questioning me, they would have found it was the last thing they ever did.

“And?” I replied, my tone close to deadly, and Yakov knew this when he changed his approach by asking calmly,

“Should I be concerned?”

“No.” I turned the file over. “But you should hurry.”

I cut the call after that, leaving him with that threat and letting him know that when it came to her, it was not wise to push me on my motives again. Then I sat back with her torn scrubs held under my nose and a wall three years thick between me and everything I intended to own.

Here was the thing I had not let myself look at directly until then. I had put my hands on her yesterday. I enjoyed it, and I would do it again. Yet every single time I did, I knew that I moved her one step closer to that door. One step closer to running.

She had a system. A dozen of them, by the look of her file. A bag packed, a story at the ready, and somewhere on that list of hers, a line she had drawn a long time ago that told her when to use it.

But I didn’t know where that line was.

And that was the only thing in this building I didn’t own.

So, there was a choice in front of me. Go slower, take less, and let her settle. Or take exactly what I wanted at exactly the speed I wanted it, and gamble that she would not bolt before I had somewhere of my own to put her.

I already knew which one I was going to do. I had known since the first day.

Run then, little bird. It changes nothing.

And when you finally sleep tonight, dream of your monster…

…because he will most certainly be dreaming of you.

13

THE SHAPE OF HIS HAND

ANNA

There was a word for what happened to me in that infirmary.