{DASHA}
I hadn't seen Nikolai in a while.
The older Russian lady, Cecilia, returned every few hours to take me to the restroom and bring me food. She was an enigma. While she looked like someone's nice grandmother, she carried a gun and threatened me like a hardened criminal. She wasn't cruel—but she wasn't kind, either. She made me handcuff myself before she unlocked the cage, and never turned her back on me or lowered the gun for a single second while she directed me to the bathroom.
I watched her carefully, biding my time. Could I take her in a fight? I had to be sure. I wouldn't get a second chance.
"How long have you worked for the Kuznetsovs?" I asked her as she placed my food at the bottom of the cage. If I could build a rapport with her, get her to trust me, then I would have a better chance of catching her with her guard down. I didn't want to end up with a gunshot wound from a trigger-happy nonna.
She didn't answer.
