133. Dawn.

>>>>>You're Dima's father.>>>>

Whispering voices fill the air around me as I wake from my deep slumber. I wheeze a breath but I figure my throat is dry. Totally dry. I try to wet my throat with my saliva but hell, I can barely muster enough to wet my dry throat.

Where am I?

How long have I been unconscious?

All these questions fill my head but I can’t find any answer to it.

I try to peer around but darkness falls into my vision. Hell, where is this?

It’s more like I have a hood over my head.

I try to jerk my hands but I can’t budge. I’m tied.

At that, full-blown panic sets in and I begin to whimper, budging the restraints on my hands.

“Hmmm…” I hum, seeking answers while I wrack my head for answers on what literally went down.

How in hell did I end up here, manacled?

With the fierce intensity which I wrack my mind, things start falling into place.

The golden mask festival.

My flight from Dima’s house to Moscow international airport.

My landing in the U.S.