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But soon he’s more whiny and teary and cranky than before, and I take him in, up to his new room. He’s clearly tired, and even though he holds my hand on the way up, he tugs free and shakes his head and blows out his cheeks as they start to turn red. He’s going to throw a tantrum; the tears are already flowing and his asking for his mother is growing in frequency.

“She’s not here. You need to get changed and have a nap.”

But he shoves me and shakes his head, distressed at the new room. “I want my mama. I want my goat. I want my story. I want my room. I. Want. Mama. Mama!”

I pick him up and he goes stiff as a board kicking, screaming, and I don’t get how someone so light and small can be so impossible to hold. I dump him on the bed out of fear of dropping him and he scrabbles up, screaming and crying now.

The door opens, and Alina appears. “Let me try. I could use the distraction.”

She goes to him. He’s half off the bed now, and she tickles him and his screams turn to watery giggles. “No. I want Mama. Mama.”

But she doesn’t give up, and soon she has him under the covers. She climbs up next to him, holding him, rocking him gently, and he starts to settle.

She looks at me. “If you have things to do, go do them. I’ll stay with him.”

I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss a moment, but Ilya and I have things to do.

In my study, I close my door and look at him.

“What have you got for me?”

“I still saythis is Sergio’s work,” I say.

But Ilya shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s him. He’s the type to announce it, not hide like a snake.”

The man’s a snake, but I don’t say it. “He might have decided to exact a punishment on the lowdown.”

“Maybe,” Ilya says, “but if so, he’s exceptionally good at covering his tracks. And I’m not sure he’s that good. He has an ego, Demyan. It can’t be underestimated. Ego like his demands acknowledgement.”

I tap my fingers on my desk. “I’ll take it under advisement. What’s the latest on the ID from the severed finger?”

Anyone else might point out there hasn’t been enough time, but not Ilya. He can work magic, and he knows how to expedite things. He has contacts high and low.

Ilya sighs. “We’re still waiting for the results. But she’s fast-tracking them for me.”

“We’ll work it out eventually,” I say with a frown. “And when I find out the culprit, I’ll rain hell down on them and everyone dear to them. Every single one.”

Chapter Sixteen

ERIN

“Let me see my baby…”I bang on the door, something that’s become a ritual, just like the silence of the nonresponse. The words are a scratchy whisper of defeat.

I finally sit.

No one else is in my prison suite. No one’s been in here for days. At least, that’s what it feels like.

Olga delivers food twice a day. The guard at the door stands in the room as she sets it down, face averted. Once the older woman, Magda, came. She made the guard wait outside as she gave me a smile that smacked of pity. And towels.

Someone has been through my suitcase and dug out yoga pants and a T-shirt for me to put on.

The food is simple sandwiches, but at most I’ve nibbled at two. Somewhere inside I’m hungry, yet eating is repugnant and I can’t manage more than a bite.

There’s nothing to read. Nothing to do, and I’m teetering on the edge of sanity. Only Sasha and the faint hope of escape keeps me tethered.

It doesn’t help that I occasionally catch the sound of his voice and it just rips me apart.

How the fuck long is Demyan planning on keeping me here? Planning on punishing me? As it stands, it’s beyond cruel. I’d prefer life in prison with no hope of parole if it meant visitations from my boy.