Every head in the room swivels towards me. Yes, even our professor’s, who glares at me like I just flushed his pet goldfish down the toilet and cackled maniacally while doing it.
My face burns hot, the heat climbing right up to my ears.
I duck my head into my textbook, mortified. “Yes,” I whisper as low as I can. “Over the weekend.”
She grins like she’s just been handed the juiciest gossip in the city. “Tell. Me. Everything. I wantaaallthe deets!”
I sigh. Brittany is one of those effortlessly social butterflies, the kind of girl who always has an extra tampon in her bag and somehow remembers everyone’s birthday. It’s how we became friends in the first place.
Most of all, though, she’s an incurable gossip.
The lecture starts. But Brittany is still staring at me withstars in her eyes, and I really don’t want her to pierce the sound barrier again.
“It was… new,” I whisper. “And kind of spontaneous.”
Technically, it’s the truth. I’m just leaving out a few key facts. Like how Petyr forced me into it, how I agreed to sort of rent out my uterus, and how I’m lying about who I actually am. Or how, if he ever knew the truth, there’s a good chance I’d stop breathing within seconds.
That thought lands heavy, cutting straight through the leftover warmth from last night. My fingers curl around my pen, knuckles whitening, as I fix my gaze in the front of the classroom.
The professor’s voice blurts into background noise. I nod when I’m supposed to, jot down half-formed notes, but my mind is miles away. From this lecture, from Brittany’s grin, from the relative safety of this campus.
Last night feels like it happened to someone else. This morning’s blush finally fades, replaced by the sharp reminder of everything I’ve got to lose.
My life. My future. Myself.
And I can’t let that happen. Not for anyone… and certainly not for Petyr.
31
PETYR
By the time I get home, I’m in a foul fucking mood.
This goddamn day.A list of problems a mile long and not a single damn solution. The missing shipment hasn’t been located yet and we have no solid leads. Just a handful of excuses from men who should know better. Every time someone swears they’ve got a trail, it turns out to be nothing.
By mid-afternoon, I’m pacing my office, wondering if I should start breaking fingers until someone remembers how to be useful.
Then Lev rolls up like the bird of ill fucking omen he is, and I know my day is about to get worse.
“You’re not gonna like this.”
“Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”
He hands me a thick folder. “We’re under attack, Petyr. It’s slow, but it’s starting.”
I crack it open. Inside are photos, names, dates. “Tell me what I’m looking at.”
“Hits,” Lev says simply. “Danilo hits.”
“What’s the damage?”
“Three separate businesses in Sidorov territory.”
I stare at the charred husks of buildings in the pictures. “That’s Sidorov’s problem,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Not mine.”
“For now,” Lev warns. “But they’re edging closer. One more block and they’ll be knocking on our door.”
I narrow my eyes and follow the red circles on the maps. Lev’s right—they’re all creeping right up to our border.
