But it’s not. I know, in my gut, that it’s not.
Because I’d know that scar anywhere. A quick horizontal slash, and then a long, jagged downward cut. The letter T—fortraitor.
The only question is:How can he be here?
“No way.” Nikita snatches Maks’s phone away and stares at the picture even harder. “That can’t be— I mean, for fuck’s sake, he’s dead!”
He should be. By all rights, the motherfucker in this picture should be lying at the bottom of the Hudson, eaten throughby the fish and the water. I remember the weight of the rocks as I tied them to his ankles, the ugly twist of his voice as he demanded mercy of me. Like he had any right to.
“You don’t understand,”I’d growled into his ear just before kicking him off the pier.“Thisismercy.”
“Yulian. Talk to us.” That’s not what Nikita means, and I know it. Her eyes are shiny and pleading, a look I’ve rarely ever seen on her face.Talk tome.Tellmethe truth.“You did kill him, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then—?”
“I didn’t kill him hard enough.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Nikita shoves Maksim’s phone back at him and plants her feet in my way. “How could he have survived? How can he be back?”
“I’m afraid that hardly matters now,” Maksim says. “He’s here. That’s undeniable. The question is, what the hell are we going to do about it?”
My knuckles pop. “If he has Mia?—”
“We have to find her.” Nikita’s face hardens with resolve. “Right now.”
“But he could be anywhere,” Maksim objects.
I think back to the man I killed twenty years ago. The man I thought I’d buried. The man who knew me better than anyone, better than everyone, who used his knowledge to take everything from me.
What would he do next?
Wherewould he go next?
“Bring the car around,” I command. “Now.”
Maksim obeys without question. At his side, Nikita rushes straight to the parking lot with him.
It’s a wild, desperate reach. A hail Mary—nothing more. But it’s all I’ve fucking got.
And I’ll be damned if I ever let thatmudaktake her from me, too.
He’s taken enough already.
6
MIA
My consciousness comes back in bits and pieces. Slowly, I become aware of the pounding headache in my skull, the awkward position of my body, the burning sensation around my abused wrists.
Ropes,I realize.I’ve been tied up.
By the time I’ve opened my eyes again, I can’t place a single thing I see.
Old, faded wallpaper, with burned black holes scattered every which way. Dark mahogany door frames, coated in a thick layer of dust. A long table, flipped on a white tablecloth stained with… wine? Sauce? I can’t really tell.
It tugs at me for some reason I can’t quite decipher. This abandoned room, this quiet house. I’ve never been here, I’m certain of that. And yet, somehow, I feel like I know it.
