Page 40 of Ghost

Her earlier conversation with Ghost came back to her.Calling him Atticus had darkened his eyes.He’d said she could call him either name, but his body language had indicated he didn’t like Atticus.And definitely not Mr.Troy.Did he mean his father?

She’d probably never find out.He wasn’t exactly a heart-to-heart kind of man.Or at least not that he’d displayed, anyway.Besides, she’d be free of him, and her old life, very soon if the conversation with Neo went well.

Uncertainty swirled in her stomach.She didn’t need to talk to Neo to know she was in deep shit.Irinia would be pissed she’d been caught by her target.Although Mila didn’t have the same fear of Irinia that she’d had as a child, that trauma still burned beneath the surface.

Beneath the hate.

She didn’t want to talk to Irinia.Didn’t want to hear her sharp words or demands.Along with the excitement that came with the prospect of leaving Irinia’s sick world, there was also anxiety.She didn’t know how the woman would react.

Mila knew everything about Irinia’s operation.About her deep-rooted connection with the Bratva and the organization’s inner workings with Russia’s intelligence service.

Enough to cause irreparable damage if she spoke out.

Irinia was cruel and spiteful, but she also saw Mila as a daughter—even referred to her that way.Could she break apart from Irinia and keep quiet?

She pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

The details didn’t matter.She had no choice.Even just being out of Irinia’s clutches for the last two days had been freeing.She wouldn’t return.Couldn’t.

She also couldn’t speak a damn thing about the Bratva or the RIS.She’d end up with a bullet between her eyes if she even considered it.

She spun away from the window and went to the bed.After tossing together an outfit, she folded the other clothes into a neat pile, ready to pack.

Once she called Neo, her life as she knew it would be gone forever.

***

Rami picked upon the first ring.“Hey.How’s it going?”

Ghost dropped onto the stool at the island, where he’d sat with Mila just hours ago over breakfast.“Good.”He swiped his hand over his face.Before he went into details about the status of his progress with Mila, he needed to hear what Rami had for him.“What’d you find out?”

“First of all, Zain asked me to tell you they found her car and belongings.It’s at HQ.Taschen’s hacking into her laptop.He’ll call you soon.”

“Anything else?”

Rami let out a long sigh.“You sitting down?”

Anticipation beat against his breastbone.“Yeah, man.Just tell me already, fuck.”

“It’s heavy, dude.”Rami’s tone was somber.

The anticipation turned into fiery apprehension.Absently, his gaze shifted to the stairs.Ghost knew full well that whatever Rami was about to share would alter his impression of the capable woman who’d knocked him on his ass with her pretty looks, smart mouth...and deadly kick.

“She was kidnapped, bro.At nine years old.”

Ghost’s pulse stopped and started.He blinked in confusion, his brain’s processing system not doing its job.“Huh?”

“Kidnapped.Went missing after her dance lesson.She was never found again.”

“How do you know?”he wheezed.It made sense.He’d made a backhanded comment about her obviously having a less-than-normal childhood, but this?

“I just sent you a picture.Have a look.”

His phone beeped.Ghost opened the message, and a side-by-side image filled his screen.On the left, a young girl with dark hair smiled at the camera.Big blue eyes full of life and exuberance sparkled in the school picture.She wore a pink dress with yellow butterflies on it.Happy.She looked fucking happy.

The right image was an estimate of what the young girl would look like now—and the face resembled Mila’s pretty damn closely.

“Facial recognition came through,” Rami explained.“Mila Vasiliev was taken from Moscow in 2005.”