I splash cool water on my face, gripping the sink as if I can anchor myself to something steady, something real.
But it doesn’t help. My reflection looks pale, wide-eyed, worn into transparency by the weight of her own lies.
I am not in love with Petyr.I chant the words silently to myself, hoping the repetition will make them true.I am not in love with Petyr. I am not in love with Petyr.
I am not?—
The smell of my own lies follows me back to the table.
Jemma and I talk some more. This time, I steer the conversation towards business. Our plans for the future—the only real thing I can count on.
When we hug goodbye, it feels like we’re two soldiers heading back behind opposite battle lines. Dramatic, sure, but when are we not?
“Promise me we’ll do this again,” Jemma sniffles. “But not like people who say, ‘We should do this again’ and then never pick up the phone. We’re actually gonna do it. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, teary-eyed. “I’d like that, too.”
When I finally step back out into the hallway, Jemma’s perfume is still soft against my nostrils.
And then my breath snags in my throat.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. A scar on his right cheek, thin but visible.
That’s Maksim.
My youngest brother.
44
SIMA
Time slows to a stop.
Maksim is at the door, looking lost. His boyish face is sharper now, much older than I remember, but the glint in his eyes is the same. The scar on his cheek, too—unmistakable.
Countless questions crowd my mind as I stare at the man who was once my baby brother.
What’s Maksim doing here? How did he even find this remote little café, far away from our family’s territory? Why are we crossing paths, today of all days, after twelve years of not seeing each other?
Why here? Why now?
He’s here for you,a tiny voice whispers in my head. I want to shut it off, but after years of living off of fear and paranoia, it’s hard to think of something like this as a coincidence.
Seeing him sends a jolt through me, equal parts recognitionand dread. For a heartbeat, I’m twelve again, sneaking candy bars and laughing until our sides hurt.
Then reality slams in: my little brother is here, in Petyr’s territory, an adult in a pressed suit with an obvious gun bulge in his side, and nothing about this is innocent anymore.
We lock eyes.
I see him.
He sees me.
I can’t look away. Like a train wreck, I’m powerless to stop what’s about to happen.
“… Sima?”
Panic rolls through me like an icy wave. It steals my breath and locks my body into place. I can’t move, can’t think. The café hallway shrinks around me, trapping me between the past I thought I buried and the present I can’t escape.
