Page 4

MIA

After the argument with Yulian, I’m too frazzled to go back to the party. I need somewhere to gather myself—somewhere with fresh air and open skies, where I won’t feel the walls pressing in on me from every side.

So, when I see Brad tapping his foot impatiently near the west entrance, I make an instant U-turn and head for the upper floors.

They’re cordoned off, of course. No one’s allowed there yet, not the guests, not the staff.

Perfect.

As soon as I slip out into the east terrace, cold wind grazes my cheeks, bringing me back to life.

Yulian. It was the last thing I needed—seeing him today, being reminded of his betrayal. For months, I refused to believe Brad’s words. I told myself he was just manipulating me again, that there was no way Yulian could ever have struck a deal with him behind my back.

But he did. The way Brad called him “partner” can only mean one thing: they’re in business together. And the Yulian I know—the Yulian I thought I knew—would never do business with a monster like that.

So I guess I didn’t know him after all.

Turns out, he was just more of the same.

I still can’t wrap my head around it, though. It doesn’t matter how many times I replay their conversation in my head. Deep down, I just don’t want to believe it.

“I came for you, that night. To get you back.”

“Then why did you leave?” I whisper out loud to nobody.

Slowly, I walk up to the railing. I take a deep breath, then another. The balustrade feels shaky under my arms—no doubt Brad’s been skimping on quality materials again; par for the course, really—but I still rest on it, too exhausted to give it a second thought.

“Fuck,” I curse softly. Then, louder: “Fuck!”

“That bad, huh?”

I whip around. There’s a man next to the patio door, one who wasn’t there five seconds earlier.

He’s tall, late thirties-looking, a shaggy head of dirty brown hair falling in unruly waves around his face. His eyes are the same color—or, rather, eye.

I try not to stare at his eyepatch, or the jagged scar that slices down the right side of his face.

“Sorry,” I say, heat rising to my cheeks. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t stop on my account. We all need to curse at the sky sometimes, don’t we?”

A small laugh escapes me. “Try every day.”

“That bad?” He wolf-whistles. “Sounds like a luxury condo won’t be the solution to your problems, then.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t make them worse.”

“Fair point.” He settles on my left, downwind, and pulls out a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Honestly? I wish I could join you.”

“There’s more where this one came from.”

I shake my head and point at my belly. “Can’t. Gotta keep it together organically for five more months.”

His eyes widen a fraction. “Congratulations. Never would’ve guessed.”

“It’s early.” I shrug. “No need to break out the maternity dresses just yet.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Judging by the appetite, I’m guessing piranha.”

The man’s lips curl faintly. “A baby shark, then.”

“Please don’t say that. I’ll never get the song out of my head.”

There’s something oddly familiar in him, even though I could swear I’ve never seen him before. His sleek dark suit, his scruff, the whiff of woodsy cologne?—

No. Stop thinking about him. He’s not yours anymore.

Chances are, he never was.

“My bad.” He takes a slow drag. The smoke lingers in the air for a second, curly and snake-shaped, before being carried away by the breeze. “Damn. Now, it’s stuck in my head, too.”

“Condolences. It’s never going away.”

“I always thought the lyrics were odd.” He taps his cigarette, letting the ash scatter below. “There’s the baby shark, and then mommy, daddy, the grandparents. But no siblings.”

“I’m sorry, you want it to be longer? ”

“Fuck no.” He tosses the stub away. It lands somewhere on the party grounds, perhaps in some rich guy’s champagne.

I get the feeling that, whoever this guy is, he doesn’t hold much love for the crowd gathered here today.

“But it’s strange, isn’t it? Lots of kids have siblings. A sister shark, a brother shark.”

“I guess the meter does make it pretty easy to add them in.”

“Will you? Add it in?” His dirty brown gaze fixes on mine. “For little Eli?”

My breathing stops.

I stare at the man next to me. His face hasn’t changed, not one bit, but his single eye is glinting with malice.

I inch away from him. “I didn’t tell you about Eli.”

“You didn’t have to, Euphemia. I know all about him.”

Euphemia. My old name grates like nails on a chalkboard on this man’s tongue. He’s a complete stranger—how can he know my name?

My real name?

I step back from the balustrade. My blood is ice cold. I can feel my heart thumping wildly in my throat, pumping my body full of adrenaline.

Run, it says. Run like hell.

But then he’s in front of me, blocking my only way out. “Who are you?” I ask with as much force as I can muster. “What do you want from me?”

“Sooo predictable.” He drags out the “o,” rolls his single eye all the way back in annoyance. “You’re all the same, really. It’s always ‘who are you’ but never ‘ how are you.’ Honestly, it’s kinda rude.”

“It’s kinda rude to stalk people, too.”

“Stalk you?” He huffs another laugh, but this one rings out all wrong. Distorted—crazy. “Oh, printsessa . It was never you I was following. But I’m glad he led me back to you.”

“If you’re here for Brad?—”

“Guess again.”

Cold dread settles in my stomach. “Yulian.”

He bares his teeth, grinning like a fox in a henhouse. “Bingo.”

A wave of protectiveness washes over me. For Eli, for the child in my belly—and for Yulian, too.

“You don’t want to cross him,” I growl. “You have no idea how strong he is. He’ll end you before you can even get close.”

“End me?” His laughter turns manic. “I’d like to see him try. Again . Last I checked, we were four-and-oh in my favor.”

“Four and…?”

“Mommy shark,” he says, counting off on his fingers. “Daddy shark. Sister shark. And girlfriend shark, too, though I’ll admit I might have jumped the gun on that.”

Mom. Dad. Sister.

Kira.

My dread turns to panic.

This man… He killed Yulian’s family. He’s one of them, one of Yulian’s shadow enemies. Prizrak. The ones who shot at us, who kidnapped Nikita, who put Kallie in the hospital.

I’m furious. I’m pure rage.

But I’m also pregnant. And if this man has no qualms about putting bullets in perfect strangers?—

He’ll put one in me, too.

And I can’t have that. Not when I have a kid at home and another growing inside me.

Run, my drumlike heart urges yet again. Run like hell.

So I do. I make a desperate, flailing attempt to rush over him, but it’s short-lived.

He catches me around the waist like I’m nothing.

“Let me go!” I scream, but he slams his palm over my mouth.

“Not so loud,” he whispers. “What will the guests think?”

I thrash in his hold, kicking out with both my legs. One of my heels digs into his left calf, drawing out a grunt of pain.

But then my vision starts to sway. I realize, belatedly, it isn’t his palm on my face.

It’s a cloth.

A wet, ether-smelling cloth.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But I think I’d rather continue this conversation in private. Wouldn’t you?”

I don’t get to answer. I don’t get to keep fighting. All I get to do is hold on to my consciousness for a few precious extra seconds as my vision slowly turns black.

I think about Eli.

I think about my baby.

I think about?—

Yulian.

Then darkness takes me.