Page 38

Her hysteria is enough she can’t contain it. Her sounds ofgrief ring out as we race her to the car and I bundle her in, gathering her to me again.

As Ilya takes off, I kiss her forehead.

“He died saving you, protecting you,” I whisper.

But she shakes her head, hands gripping tight as she sobs. “No. I got him killed.”

She’s wrong. I did.

Simply by being who I am, my sister’s love is dead.

And I’ve failed again.

But this is the last time. From now on, nothing will ever get in my way. Nothing, no one.

“I’ll fucking kill whoever did this, Alina. Mark my words. It’s a promise to you. On the graves of our parents, I swear.”

I make that particular promise for her.

I don’t need that kind of incentive.

Because even if they lived, I’d still hunt down and destroy the cunt who did this.

I’ll stop at nothing, and I’ll find the one responsible.

And when I do?

I’ll make them pay.

And pay.

Chapter Ten

ERIN

I pace,trying not to look at the door. There’s an old-fashioned lock as well as the keypad. But he used the pad, not the lock, and that means I’m stuck.

Without my phone, I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. It’s still night, so it only feels like forever, but it must be late. Kara must be worried. Even if it’s not hideously late, she knows I’d have called by now. It’s what I do now that I have Sasha. Not that I go out.

A sob escapes, me and I push my hand to my mouth to stop myself from crying. If I lose it, I won’t stop.

I’ve already kicked off my shoes, as sitting is almost impossible and my feet are aching.

Suddenly, there’s a sound at the door, a scraping sound. The door swings open. A woman is there. She’s just as expressive as Demyan, but older, wider, and she looks like she could take me down with the flick of her wrist.

But when she speaks, her voice is melodious. “You must be thirsty and hungry. Please sit.”

She’s polite, but I do as told because it’s not a request. She nods and walks in, setting the tray on the bedside table.

Then she turns and goes, the key scraping once more. I look at the food. Borscht, by the looks of it, with dill and sour cream and though I’m hungry and it smells good, my stomach turns. But I make myself take a mouthful of the beet soup. It’s all I can deal with. It’s ash to me. I pick up the water and take a sip, a shudder passing through me.

The knots in my belly have knots and though I’m not an anxiety-ridden person, I’m beginning to understand them. My heart is racing and I’m clammy. Everywhere. The room’s small now and getting smaller, and I can’t breathe.

He can’t keep me here forever, can he? Surely, he’ll let me go. And Sasha, he?—

Oh, my baby. All I want to do is hold him and feel his little body against me, kiss his dark head. And I desperately want to fill my lungs with his sweet smell.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” I hiss the words. The sudden grief at being apart from him for the next, however long, is growing and rolling over me. And if I wasn’t locked in here by a damn keypad, I’d?—