Chapter Eighty-seven

Liliana

I woke up slowly, my head pounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer. Everything felt fuzzy and wrong, like I was swimming up from the bottom of a deep, dark pool.

Where was I?

The first thing I noticed was the smell, like damp concrete, and rust. I tried to move and realized my hands were tied behind my back. Rough rope cut into my wrists, and when I pulled against it, the pain shot up my arms like fire.

"She's awake," came a voice from somewhere in the darkness.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. I was in some kind of warehouse, with high concrete walls and broken windows near the ceiling. Weak sunlight filtered through the dirty glass, creating long shadows across the floor.

A man stepped into view. He was tall and thin, with graying hair and cold blue eyes that reminded me of winter ice. He wore an expensive suit, but it was wrinkled like he'd been wearing it for days. Even in old age, he still looked dashing.

"Mrs. Volkov," he said with a slight accent.