Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Mikhail walks toward her slowly, his hands outstretched, whispering, “Ania, it’s okay. I’m here, too. I’m right here.”
He’s almost got his hand on her when she suddenly turns and swipes at him, moving like a feral cat. Mikhail ducks smoothly to the side, waits a moment, then reaches out. Again, Ania swings at him.
Mikhail groans and rejoins me, shaking his head. “I don’t want to make this worse.”
“How often can you get her inside?” I ask.
“Half of the time, maybe less. She used to lock her door at night, but one night, she trashed her room and accidentally cut herself on glass from the mirror.”
“That’s awful,” I murmur. “Poor girl.”
“Don’t let awake Ania catch you calling her a girl,” Mikhail says, with another Dimitri-like dry laugh.
“Can I try?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I don’t want you getting hurt. Awake Ania wouldn’t hurt a fly. Sleepwalking Ania is always ready for a fight.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Just try not to wake her. If she gets aggressive, get away from her quickly.”
I nod, then slowly walk toward her. “Ania,” I whisper.
She turns at the sound of my voice. Her wide, saucer-like eyes reflect the moonlight. There’s an eerie, lifeless look to them. “Mom?”
“I’m here.” Cautiously, remembering how quickly she lashed out, I move my hand toward her arm. Finally, I place my hand on her, feeling her cool skin and the texture of the goosebumps against my palm. She stiffens up, and I get ready to run, but she settles down, her shoulders slumping.
“Stay like that,” Mikhail whispers. “I think she might… ah, good.”
Ania doesn’t lie down, exactly. It’s more like she slowly crumples to the ground. Soon, she’s snoring in the grass.
“What now?” I ask.
“I should be able to carry her inside.”
Mikhail kneels beside his sister and slowly moves her into his arms. Ania looks so tiny and vulnerable when he stands while holding her against his chest. It triggers something in me I don’t want to think about—thoughts of motherhood, broody swirling emotions, of being there for someone, never leaving them, never forcing them to be alone until they’re ready.
“You should get some sleep,” Mikhail murmurs to me.
“Yeah,” I mutter dryly. “I’ll try. Is Dimitri okay?”
“I haven’t heard from him,” Mikhail says, “but you don’t need to worry about him.” I know. It’s the others who should worry. Dimitri has killed before, and he’ll do it again. Shouldn’t that scare me? “Thank you, Lia. I couldn’t have calmed her down without you.”
With that, he turns toward the house. I go back to the other house, returning to my spot in the library before I realize I’m still wearing Mila’s shoes. I take them off, studying them in the light. They look like plain black shoes, but the sole shows the name of an expensive brand.
Being here, around all this luxury, is like being in a different universe. It all feels so alien. Yet, I have to admit, as I start idly sketching again, it’s so refreshingly quiet and peaceful out here. Now that Ania has stopped sleepwalking, at least.
Eventually, my eyes start to grow heavy. The clock tells me it’s almost four a.m. I hope that Dimitri, wherever he is, is okay. I hope he comes back to me soon.
CHAPTER 13
DIMITRI
Artyom Dragomirov is the Sokolov Bratva soldier connected to the Serbians. As I drive toward his address, I talk with Angelo, my police contact, on speaker. I’d much rather be at home, though, and that’s not because of the sleep tugging at me. It’s not because of the stress pumping at the base of my neck like a bomb waiting to go off. It’s my need to be with Lia.
“It looks like he served with two Serbians who are currently wanted—one for assault and one for intent to supply.”
“Hmm,” I mutter. “I happen to know he had a phone call with the dead man, too.” I just got a call from Mikhail confirming the connection.
“How do you know that?” Angelo snaps. “We haven’t even gotten the cell phone records yet.”
“I guess you should start hiring us,” I tell him.
“Ha, ha,” he grunts. “What’re you doing now?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Dammit,” he says, but he doesn’t ask again. It’s become our shorthand over the years. We’ve helped the cops tame this city far more than most government agencies, so we get something in return: to take vengeance where we see fit. “We’ve had a lot, Dimitri, between your father and now this…”
“I didn’t ask my father to kill himself, did I?” I snarl. “I didn’t ask these bastards to try to hurt—” My woman, I almost say, which still doesn’t make sense, but I can’t fight how true it feels. “For what it’s worth, Angelo, I’ll do my best to be quiet.”
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with relief.”
I hang up the phone, my GPS telling me I’m almost there. The phone call with Mikhail was short, but I was sure I could hear a subtle shift in his tone as if he wanted to say something. Be careful, maybe, but he knows that would just be distracting.