“Okay then.” His fingers release my chin. Sergei straightens and heads to the door. “The windows are locked and connected to the alarm. Please don’t try breaking them,” he says. “Mimi is a military-trained dog, and she will be in front of the door the whole time, so don’t tire yourself trying to escape, because you’re staying here until you start telling me the truth. I’ll come to take you downstairs for lunch.”
With those words, he leaves the room and closes the door.
Shit.
* * *
I spend almost an hour sitting in bed, trying to understand where I f****d up. Except for the bruise thing, my story was solid. I tried to keep it as close as possible to the truth to make it more realistic. How the hell did he catch me? The bigger problem is, I have no idea how much he knows.
Everybody has
