I was locked away on an Arctic drilling platform by Victor Raven for three years.
He gave me a wedding dress, he gave me chains, and he gave me a wedding at thirty
degrees below zero.
"Nora Hamilton, sign it," he said. "Your mother will see you looking dignified."
I stared at the urn in his hand, a metallic taste rising in my throat.
Through the screen, Ivan Petrov said, "Run. He’s the one who killed your whole
family."
And I believed him.
I stole access cards, hid pills, memorized the platform’s layout.
I thought I was escaping from a tyrant.
Until the barrel of a gun pressed against my forehead and Ivan Petrov called me his
“key,” a smile on his face.
A silver ring flashed for a moment on Victor Raven’s bloodstained hand.
