Still horrified by the scene she had just witnessed, Ashleigh found herself back in a white walled cell, clinical, cold, and empty. Her face was damp with tears, her entire body shook with shock, she barely struggled as her jacket was tugged off, and a hypodermic needle produced. She didn't know what they were putting into her body, barely felt the needle slide under the skin of her bare upper arm, or the slight resistance as the liquid was forced into her body. The needle was withdrawn, the arms holding her loosened, and with a sigh of relief, Ashleigh fell forwards into a deep dreamless sleep. Nothing mattered anymore; she was going to die, perhaps now, perhaps in the next twenty four hours. Sleep was a blessed relief.
Like before, she woke up with her face pressed to the cold floor, and a sense of disorientation surrounding her. She lay still, letting herself wake up slowly; trying to work out what had woken her up. She heard it again, and listened. Footsteps. Coming this way. Slowly she raised herself a sitting position, and leant against the wall. Her head was as fuzzy as before, and her muscles ached. She had a smattering of purplish bruises across her knuckles where her fist had connected with the heavy's jaw in the observation room. She flexed them gingerly, still listening as the footsteps came closer. They stopped, right outside her cell, and there was a clang as the hatch was slid abruptly open. She squinted up, but someone had arranged a light above it, and she blinked, momentarily blinded. Then the footsteps moved away.
Anger rose once more in her. She had been ambushed again. Knocked unconscious more than once, and now Dmitrov was dead, James was God knows where, and she was trapped her. She stood, she was shaky on her feet admittedly, but she was at least able to stand.
'Bastard!' she howled after the footsteps. 'Cowardly bastard!' The insults felt good, she spat them out viciously, relishing the way they echoed down the corridor. 'Not hanging around? Scared I might kick your ass? Come on, I'm only a woman, come here and prove what a man you are!'
Nothing. No response. It didn't matter what the words she shouted were, it was good just to vent some spleen. She took another deep breath, 'Your mother was a...'
The door crashed open, knocking her backwards, a hand reached out caught her by the throat and she found herself pinned against the wall, her feet barely touching the floor.
'It's not nice to insult people's mothers.' A voice hissed. 'I would have thought that you would have at least been taught that...'
Ashleigh found herself face to face with someone she recognised. The last time she had seen those pale blue eyes, he had been standing behind Alec, obedient to the last, a dog to his master. 'You?' she laughed, 'I should have known it.'
Kristov glared at her, the English bitch, his fingers ached to crush her windpipe, but he restrained himself, this was a moment to be savoured.
Ashleigh, despite her precarious position, was feeling reckless. What did she have to lose? She laughed again. Kristov responded by slamming her back against the wall a bit harder.
'So who's bankrolling you?' Ashleigh managed to ask as the little flashes of light that had exploded in her head died away. 'Not Alec, surely. Does he know you're working for someone else? I'm guessing its Deronda that's yanking your leash now.'
'Perhaps,' Kristov's tone was icy cold, like his piercing stare. 'Or perhaps I'm working for the real power round here.'
This caught Ashleigh's attention. She stared hard at him, waiting to see if he confirmed her suspicions.
'And the powers that be have insisted on your removal. I asked for that pleasure specifically.'
Ashleigh's wariness was beginning to grow. She might be facing death, but if she had to die, she would be putting up a struggle first. She would not make things easy for this double crossing bastard. 'Did you?' she smiled, forcing the expression onto her face. 'Ah yes, I did catch you quite hard, didn't I?'
