Page 5 of Ghost

Smack

Irinia’s hand slammed against the table, making the wood rattle.

Mila jumped.

“I will not tolerate any more crying.I do not allow it in class, nor will I allow it here.Understood?”

Mila nodded.She inhaled a shaky breath.Irinia didn’t like insolence or immaturity.Mila had learned years ago that the way to earn her teacher’s approval was to not show emotion.“I understand,” she managed to say.“Madame, why am I here?”

Irinia’s shoulders dropped and her anger subsided.“That’s better.You’re here, child, because you have a gift.Not just as a talented dancer.You have more.”She brought a long, crooked finger to her own temple.“Here.”

It didn’t make sense.Nothing did.The overwhelming urge to sob and scream tickled her tongue.She pressed her lips tightly together.If she tried to speak, she’d cry.

Irinia was intense about dance.Many times, she’d described how she’d lived and breathed it her entire life.Maybe that was what this was about.

“You want me to dance more?”Mila asked, her voice wobbly.She already trained six days a week.Her mother had refused a seventh.

“No,” Irinia said.The word dropped with an echo.She leaned forward.“You’re strong, Mila.You’re very much like me.Right now, none of this makes sense, but you will see.You will understand that we’re giving you a life of power that you wouldn’t be capable of reaching inside your family’s farm.”

Mila lowered her gaze and swallowed.Had Irinia lost her mind?Once, her mother had told her that her teacher was so hard on her because she couldn’t have children of her own.She put a lot of pressure on her dancers because they were her legacy.Her name.

“You will live with us,Malyshka.”Little one.Alexei used the word softly.“We will be your family—”

“No.No family.You no longer have one.”

Alexei blinked and glanced at Irinia.“Dorogaya.” Dear.“She is nine years old.A child needs a family.”

Irinia fixed her sharp, glittering green eyes on her husband.“She isn’t a child anymore.”She brought her gaze back to Mila.“She is a weapon.”

Her teacher’s words resounded in Mila’s head, their meaning striking her hard.Her muscles quaked with fear, and her bladder let loose.

CHAPTER 3

Mila stared atthe ox of a man in black boxer briefs.His dark, close-cropped hair matched the thick stubble covering his jaw.Onyx-gray eyes bore into her with so much loathing she’d have burned to a crisp if she gave a shit.

The muscles in his abdomen rippled as he fixed the gun on her.His shoulders were wide and bulging, his arms thick and his legs stacked.No wonder she hadn’t overpowered him.

But she would.She had to.

The musty basement air was cool on her skin.She’d already assessed every inch of the space, as she’d been trained to do.In the rapid seconds that had passed while he flicked on the light, made her undress, and shoved her in a chair, she’d learned the layout of the level.

In the square room there was a tool bench next to her, a water heater in the far corner to her left, and a furnace beside it.The floor gently sloped toward the center of the room, where a drain was fitted into the concrete.Pushed up against the far wall directly across from her was a washer-dryer combo with a narrow window above it.

Her way out.

The window was old, which meant the glass would shatter into shards.The unmoving laundry in the dryer would serve as a cover to protect her from getting cut.The window was maybe eighteen inches high by three feet wide.But she’d fit.

In the other corner, there was a door beneath the highest point of the stairs, and she could see a thin towel rack inside.A bathroom.

Unfortunately, this man’s death would have to be messy since there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d get a second attempt with the syringe.

His finger moved on the trigger.“Whoever you’re protecting would kill you in a heartbeat if they knew you’d failed at taking me out.”

“I won’t fail.”

“Name.”He spat the command as though he issued them for a living.

She glowered at him.“What, did your large body get all the brain cells?I.Don’t.Know.”