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I take my time in the shower, letting the warm water wash away the dirt and the soot.

It stings when it hits the cuts around my ankle, but I bend down and clean the wound as thoroughly as I can.

With the blood gone, I can finally get a good look at it.

There are a few good gouges but nothing that needs stitches, and I’ll definitely want some antibacterial ointment for the area for the next few days.

Who knows what kind of germs were in that sketchy flooring?

The hot water feels amazing on my skin, and I scrub my body three times, staying in until my fingers are prunes.

I’m still processing everything that happened today.

The moment in the bar with Matvei where it seemed like we really connected for the first time, where he showed me something real about himself, feels so distant now, as if it happened months ago.

He protected me without hesitation in the fire and the gunfight, even when it meant putting himself at risk.

And then the car ride home… even the memory of it makes my face flush hot.

It was everything I had dreamed it would be and more.

He knew just where to touch. I’ve never felt like that before, and I can already feel it sinking into my bones like a craving I’ll never get rid of.

The only problem is that I don’t think it’s going to happen again.

Like, ever. He became so weird immediately afterward, like he regretted it, which was completely humiliating.

Was I just something to get out of his system?

I brace my hands on the tile and let the water stream down my back.

So I ran and hid in my room the second I could because I couldn’t face him after that.

I’m so sick of his hot and cold games; one minute it seems like he almost likes me, and the next he’s pushing me away, even after something so intimate.

Finally, I twist the knob to turn off the water and wrap myself in one of the huge terrycloth towels.

The first-aid kit is sitting on the bed when I step out of the bathroom.

Matvei. It’s shit like this that makes me question how he really feels because sometimes he’s almost sweet.

I sit down and open the kit, squirting some antibiotic onto the cuts before wrapping a gauze around my ankle.

Hopefully, that’s enough to keep any infection at bay, and with luck, it’ll heal without too much of a scar.

My body is delightfully sore. Even cramped into a car, the sex was so good and I can’t help thinking how it would feel if we had a whole bed to work with.

Get it together . It’s not going to happen again, even if my body wants it to.

There’s no way I’m dealing with the humiliating aftermath one more time.

After I pull on another set of silk pajamas, this one’s bubblegum pink, I slide beneath the covers.

Tomorrow, I’ll need to call Anton. I can’t put it off any longer.

Maybe I can probe around a little and see if he knows anything about today’s attack.

I’m sure we wouldn’t do something like that, but it would be nice to tell Matvei definitively one way or the other.

For a while, I toss and turn, playing back the day until I fall into a fitful sleep.

***

It is not a good morning. I feel like I got maybe four hours of sleep and look like I got none.

Matvei must still be feeling guilty over how he practically threw me off his lap yesterday because he sends Timofey up with a tray of coffee and donuts.

Too cowardly to bring them up himself, though. Or too busy, if I’m feeling generous.

“Timofey,” I call before he can shut the door. He sighs and gives me a pained expression.

“What is it, Anya? I’m not helping you sneak out, so don’t even ask.”

I flash him a smile. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m a married woman. I wouldn’t sneak out of my marital home. Can you find me a cellphone?”

He furrows his brow, suspicious. “Don’t you have one?”

“It’s broken,” I lie. I know Matvei would give me a cellphone if I asked because he needs me to broker this deal, but I don’t want to face him yet. “And I’m not feeling up to going to get one myself.”

I waggle my bandaged ankle at him from my perch on the bed.

Timofey sighs again. “I’ll check with Matvei. If he says it’s okay, I’ll bring you one. If he doesn’t, I’m never trusting you again, got it? Fool me once, and all that.”

“Thank you!” I say as he shuts the door.

A few minutes later, he returns and tosses a black cellphone onto the bed beside me. “Here you go. Boss said it’s alright.” He hesitates in the doorway. “He wanted me to ask how you’re doing.”

I look up from the cellphone. “He can ask me himself. Thanks, Timofey. That’s all.”

Once he leaves, I punch in Anton’s number and cross my legs beneath me as it rings.

My heart kicks into a nervous rhythm. I should’ve rehearsed what I would say to him, but each time I kept coming up blank.

I miss home, miss my own room and my own things and my family.

But as the phone rings again, I realize I’m not ready to go back, no matter how awkward things are here with Matvei right now.

There’s something more between us, and all of his avoidance won’t make it go away.

“Hello?” Anton’s voice is clipped and cold. He doesn’t recognize the number.

“Hey, Anton,” I say, tugging on the bandage around my ankle. “It’s Anya.”

There’s a pause, and his voice shifts into that brotherly tone. “Anya. Finally. What the hell happened to your phone? Whose number is this?”

“Oh, I dropped it in the ocean.” I laugh nervously. I’ve lied to Anton a hundred times, but those were little white lies, never anything like this. “I’m using my friend’s until I can get to the store for a new one.”

He snorts a laugh. “Typical. I was starting to get worried about you, but Ella insisted I give you some space to quote, ‘be a grownup,’ so I’ve been doing just that. Would’ve helped if you’d checked in once in a while so I at least knew you weren’t dead, though.”

I exhale in relief. He doesn’t even know I was kidnapped. He actually did as I asked and gave me some space. A rush of guilt for deceiving him when he’s trusting me threatens to drown me, but I push it back and focus just on this moment.

“She’s the best. Thanks for this, by the way,” I say, peeling the bandage off just to have something to do with my hands. “It means a lot that you trust me. How are things going?”

I can’t ask him outright if they’ve done any hits lately without it being suspicious, but if something major happened, I’m pretty sure he’d tell me. Hopefully.

“Fine. It’s been pretty quiet, actually. Shit, I should knock on wood. Construction is going smoothly, and we should be on schedule for opening. When do you think you’ll be back? Ella misses you.”

Because he can’t just admit that he misses me, too.

I stifle another uprising of guilt, but his question solidifies it for me: I’m not ready to go home.

When I hang up with Anton, after promising to check in more often, I decide I’ve had enough of avoiding Matvei.

I’m not going to make it easy for him. If he wants to act like there’s nothing between us, like I’m really just some girl he kidnapped, he’s going to have to do it to my face.

I search the house, Zephir at my side, looking for him. Sunlight streams in the huge windows in the living room where the other two dogs are lying, flat on their sides in an afternoon nap.

“Where is he, hmm?” I ask the dogs, continuing my search on the first floor.

Voices emanate from Matvei’s office, making me pause when I realize there are more than just Timofey and Matvei speaking in there.

“We’ll hit it tonight.” Diomid, I think.

I creep closer and press my ear to the door, straining to hear more.

“Isn’t that a Milov operation?” This time it’s Oleg, and the sound of my name puts me on edge. “That could blow back on us in a big way if you’re hoping to ally with them.”

“It’ll hit the Shevchenkos hardest,” Timofey interjects. “I say we do it. We need to show them they can’t push us around, no matter who they’re allied with.”

I hold my breath, hoping I’ll hear Matvei say no to whatever plan this is. My stomach sinks when he answers.

“Timofey’s right. It’s a crucial operation for them. We take it out.”

***

Is he serious? I spin away from the door and head for the front of the house.

If he’s going to put my family at risk, I have to let Anton.

If I can just see him in person and lay everything out, I know he’ll come around.

I can’t risk it on a phone call, where he could hang up halfway through and do something rash.

“You have to stay here, love.” Zephir sticks his snout into my face when I stoop to slide my shoes on. His ears perk up like he thinks we’re going on a walk, and I hate to disappoint him. “If it goes well, I’ll see you again soon. Promise.”

I give him a quick hug and try not to cry when I pull away.

He’s been the only thing close to a friend I’ve had since getting here, and there’s a chance I won’t be back if things don’t go well with Anton.

Disabling the alarm is a snap, given that I just watched Matvei do it the other night, and I quietly close the door behind me.

The longer I have before they notice I’m gone, the better my chances of making it to Anton.

I start running. I’m good at it; my long legs are made for big strides, and my lungs are trained from years of working out.

I’ve been in Miami long enough to have a sense of the layout, and I know if I keep the ocean on my right, I’ll eventually hit the hotel strip where I was staying with Anton and Ella.

The road splits and I have two choices: a main road with multiple lanes of cars whizzing by, or a quieter road with no sidewalk that dips along the coastline.

I take the latter. Sweat starts to bead on my forehead and drip down my back, but there’s no way I’m slowing down.

When a car rolls up alongside me, I move over onto the shoulder to let it pass.

It slows down, keeping pace just behind my shoulder.

I glance up the road, but there’s no reason they can’t go by—no one else is coming.

Shit. Did Matvei already catch up to me?

I hit the brakes and spin, ready to cuss him out for what I overheard, for going behind my back when he was supposed to be trusting me to make the deal.

The car stops, and the passenger and backseat doors swing open. Two men get out, neither of them Matvei. I back away, but my foot catches on the lip of the road, and I stumble, going down hard.

“Don’t scream,” one of them warns, gesturing at me with the barrel of a gun. “Just get in the car.”

What the fuck? Where did they come from?

They must’ve been staking out the Abashin house the entire time, and I didn’t notice them following me until it was too late.

Stupid and careless as usual. There’s nothing nearby for me to grab and use as a weapon.

The only rocks are no bigger than pebbles, and even if they were baseball-sized they’d be useless against a gun.

I have no choice. One man keeps the gun trained on me as the other approaches and yanks me to my feet. He starts dragging me toward the backseat of his car, and I know if I go in there, I’m as good as dead.