She slides on her jacket and extends her hand. I give her the keys to the man’s beat-up brown truck. Annika nods once, firmly. Snow catches in her lashes and on her shoulders. She looks slight, impossibly small; I want to wrap her in my arms and never let go.
Let go.
“The tracker?” I ask.
She touches the necklace at her throat, where yesterday she superglued a tiny tracking device. With any luck, she’ll be able to indicate some kind of entrance to Viktor’s compound using it.
“If you can’t convince him before the end of the day,” I say, “or get us inside, we’re coming.” The words taste like ash. Without Annika’s success, I don’t think there’s a chance we will get into the compound or get our hands on Viktor. But I can’t let my fear show. We’re too far along for that. “And I can’t promise your safety if it comes to that.”
A shootout. A war. With Annika caught in the middle.We always knew it would lead to this. Didn’t we?
So why does it hurt so badly to let her go?
“Before the end of the day,” Annika repeats. She nods once, and doesn’t look at me. “Alright. I’m ready.”
I draw my pistol and fire off a few shots, shattering the passenger window of Annika’s getaway truck and puncturing the windshield and hood. “See you on the other side,” I say.
Sacha, who followed us out, shifts at my side. I notice he’s looking away, hands folded in front of him—giving us privacy.
But Annika is already turning away. “Do svidaniya, Maxim.” I can’t see her face, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
Am I making a terrible mistake?
Too late—she’s already climbing up into the truck. Through the snow and spiderwebbed windshield, she looks like she’s grinning, black eyes and blood, but it’s impossible to tell. Then she’s reversing down the drive, and disappearing into the storm.
“And so it begins,” says Sacha softly.
“No,” I say, returning my pistol to its holster. “And so it ends.”
Chapter Eighteen
Annika
Drive.
My face throbs. I clutch my ribs, grateful not to have to feign the buckling pain. Sacha really didn’t hold back.Good. The more real it looks, the better. I grip the steering wheel, wishing I’d had the foresight to practice driving the stick. A bit more theatre, I guess.
Snow whirls into the truck through the shattered window. My experience with cold suddenly doesn’t matter at all. I’m cut to the bone, shaking so hard I consider pulling over before I’ve even reached town.
Keep going, keep going.Beneath the terror there’s a thrill—freedom. At this exact moment, I’m free. No one’s captive. No one’s gambit. No one’s daughter or lover. I’m Annika. Not Destry. Not Desyatova. Just me.Free.
But the hysterical grin on my lips doesn’t last. I hit town quicker than I’d like to, speeding down the cracked, pot-holed main road. Between the dismal, paint-chipped buildings, the frozen sea watches. Massive freighters and oil rigs sit in the ice as though frozen in time, snow gathering on every ridge and deck in drifts. Once the snow melts, they’ll be released into the open ocean.
The metaphor is surprisingly accurate.
But will the snow sealing my life in place ever melt?Canit? Can I possibly be free of my father? And if I am—does that mean I’ll only belong to Maxim just as fast? My heart hammers against my chest. He doesn’t love me, that much was made unflinchingly clear last night. But could he possess me, for the strength of his position and his gang? I don’t know. Everything IthoughtI knew about Maxim has gone out the window. Right now, nothing in this world is certain.
Town passes in an ugly blur. The truck shoots into the tundra, toward a low ridge overlooking the sea. Floodlights, pricking up from the snow like a ring of black needles, are the only indication I’m going the right way. The compound, gray and submerged in the snow, hunkers so low it’s nearly invisible from the road.
I’m going to see my father.I realize I’m barely breathing, my teeth chattering, my ribs screaming in agony. I suppose it’s for the best—I’m supposed to look like I just escaped a fight, after all, and a violent gang that kidnapped me and has been keeping me captive.
The floodlights on the hill give way to a low, stout cement complex. It big, but I know from looking at it that it’s just the tip of the iceberg. The intelligence Alexei gathered gave no details, but it was clear the place is expansive. Under the earth, those cement halls are no doubt sprawling, filled with—what?
People?A chill slithers down my spine as I speed down the salted road toward a guarded metal gate. Are there cells down there? Are there ships frozen in the harbor that carry living, breathing, flesh cargo?Oh, Alexei. You were in so far over your head.
Am I?
A pair of armed guards marches out in front of the truck as I slam on the brakes, skidding to a halt before the black motorized gate. Two AK barrels swing toward me through the windshield.
