Page 119 of Filthy Little Fix

Dmitry laughs. He doesn't hide his satisfaction."When the dust settles, you and I will have a real whiskey. I have a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle saved to celebrate the family's newest and most valuable acquisition."

It's the most sincere form of cordiality I could expect from him.Welcome to the Volkovs.

"I don't drink whiskey, Dmitry. But I'll make an exception."

"Consider it part of your new benefits package."

Svetlana interrupts before Dmitry can make another gentle boss joke. "And the secondary asset? Sal? What's the status of his data extraction?"

"We're almost done. He still has a few secrets, but he's being very cooperative."

"Excellent. For now, then," she says,"your next step is to compile the logs from the Croatian holding's systems. We need to know what Ivan has already lost."

She adjusts her glasses. No congratulations or thanks.

"Of course," I say. Working isn't bad. It keeps my head functional.

But Dmitry disagrees. "Sveta, give him the night off," he says, smiling at the corner of his mouth. "He deserves it."

"Rest is a luxury we don't have, Dmitry. The window of opportunity to exploit their weakness is now."

"She's right," I say, leaning into the microphone. "Give me access to the logs. I can finish this in a few hours."

Anything to not be alone with my own head, because a foolish part of me was hoping. Hoping forhim.

Dmitry shakes his head. He still speaks lightly, but it's definitive now, "No. The order came from above."

Svetlana stays quiet. She frowns, thinking, trying to remember. She didn't know. Neither did I.

Dmitry continues, looking at me. "Dante was clear. He said you needed a night. He's taking one himself."

On screen, I see the exact moment Svetlana's patience runs out. It's the slowest, most tired eye-roll I've ever seen.

I'd like to know what she's thinking. Why is Dante taking a day off? Is it because of me? Did the war exhaust him? Is he so psychologically fucked up because of what happened that he needs time alone?

"Enjoy your forced day off, Nyx," Dmitry says. He must have had a little to drink. He's warmer. "Use the time to think about a counter-proposal for your contract. The offer is still on the table."

I had almost forgotten.

"Every day this, Dmitry," I complain.

He, of course, laughs. At some point, I won't be able to escape. He needs everything formalized like humans need oxygen.

"Good night, Nyx."

A hiss. He hangs up. Svetlana's screen darkens a second later, without a goodbye. Efficient even in her rudeness.

I take off my headphones. Unlike Chad's, at the bottom of my backpack, these are good. But it doesn't make a difference now. The silence is the same as always.

A war won. Dmitry, one of the most influential men in the city, invited me for whiskey with him. Expensive, aged whiskey. High society stuff.

Still, I'm alone.

Dante isn't here to see the victory. He isn't here to give me the next order.

The admiration, the kiss in the warehouse, the way he called me "my boy"... it all seems like a fever dream. Maybe I crossed a line. Maybe, now that he has me back, safe and useful, the interest is gone. I said I loved him. A stupid word. A mistake.

I sit on the bed. I don't like this. It's a burning I don't know how to face, it's new. What the fuck. This didn't happen before. When Dante left me, when he tried to get rid of me, when he pushed me away. It was empty, hollow; nothingness, not this shapeless burning that spreads.