Chapter 75

Nadia struggled to open her eyes. Her head was throbbing dully—likely from the car crash not long ago. A mild concussion, perhaps. Her stomach twisted, a wave of nausea rising sharply up her throat. Her hands and feet were tightly bound, and a sharp pain pulsed from her right ankle. She sat on the floor, her mouth sealed shut with duct tape. The room they kept her in was small but tidy. Two cameras were set up nearby—one pointed directly at her, the other positioned to her left. The lenses, dark and hollow, stared like unblinking eyes. A floral-patterned curtain covered a small window, letting in only faint light. The air carried a faint, animal-like stench. Occasionally, Nadia could hear dogs barking in the distance. From what she could make out, the place resembled a farmhouse. Soon, the door creaked open. A man stepped inside—tall, at least six feet, with long hair and a thick beard. His sunken, deep-set eyes gave him the weary look of a down-and-out artist when he wasn't