A presence came into focus, a pulsating glow in the corner of the room. Dmitry tried to speak, but the tube down his throat made it impossible. He swatted at the tubes and tape fastening him in place. Now he was sure of it. Someone was sitting in the corner of the room.
He screamed, but it was as if he were under water; he couldn’t make a sound or take a breath. His surroundings were going in and out of focus. Had Bratva drugged him? Was he being tortured?
Had Bratva drugged him? Was he being tortured?A soft voice emerged out of nowhere. “There, there, my son. Mama’s here now. Everything will be okay as long as Vassily and Natalia are safe.” Vassily? Natalia? The paintings.
Vassily? Natalia? “Mother?” he mouthed, lips opening and closing around the hard tube.
In the sterile darkness, t
