“Who’s following Romano’s daughter right now?”
“That would be Oleg, boss.”
“Call him. I want to know where she is at this very second.”
Lev doesn’t argue. He pulls out his phone and makes the call, getting an answer within seconds.
“She’s at the college, sir.”
Right. Stella’s finishing her degree at UChicago. Well then. Since she clearly has no problem showing up at my workplace uninvited, let’s see how well she handles it when I return the favor.
Snow crunches under my boots as I cut across campus, following Oleg’s directions to the letter.
The place is too clean. Too quiet. Nothing but glass, polished stone, and spoiled kids in designer coats pretending they’ve got real problems. I weave through them in the hall, ignoring the stares, eager to find who I came for. Stella’s in her last class of the day, tucked somewhere inside this maze of civility.
When I finally find the auditorium in question, I don’t bother knocking. Instead, I shove the doors open and let them slam shut behind me, the sound cracking through the hall like a gunshot.
Every head in the room turns my way, faces twisted with the same thought.
Who the hell would dare walk in late like that?
At the front of the hall, the professor squints up at me, all tweed jacket and Harry Potter glasses. “Can I help you?”
“No, you can’t,” I say, my gaze sweeping the rows until I catch a flash of flame-red hair ducking low in her seat—like she’s praying I wouldn’t notice her.
As if I could ever miss her in a crowd. The thought almost makes me laugh.
“But she can,” I finish, moving down the steps, row by row, until I’m standing three seats away from her.
I can tell we’ve garnered everyone’s attention, but I couldn’t give a shit. Not when some pissant is in my seat.
“Move.”
He blinks at me. “The fuck?” he says, laughing, but his laugh wavers under my scrutinizing stare.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
The cold, dead look in my eyes, paired with the ominous smile curling at my lips, is all the warning he needs. He bolts out of his seat as if it caught fire, stumbling out of the row.
I settle into the seat beside Stella, shoulders loose, one arm resting behind her chair, the other thrown lazily over the one next to me. It’s only when I hear her professor clearing his throat, visibly annoyed with the disruption, that I even remember his existence.
“May I proceed?”
“Be my guest,” I smirk back.
He launches back into whatever lecture he was giving, something about postmodern moral collapse or Western ideology or whatever.
I tune him out, since paying attention to his lecture isn’t the reason why I’m here. She is. And by she, I mean Kira. I think.
Unlike me and my cavalier attitude, Stella is radiating pure rage beside me. Rigid spine. Clenched jaw. Even the green in her eyes looks like it’s about to go nuclear.
“You’re an ass, you know that?” she hisses under her breath when she’s sure no one is looking at us anymore.
“I’ve been called worse,milaya,” I let a smug smile tug at my lips.
She grits her teeth, fingers twitching toward the pencil on top of her laptop. She picks it up and holds it like a weapon, squeezing so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in two.
“There, there, Stella. Don’t get any ideas,” I taunt, leaning in a little closer. “Something tells me your classmates might be squeamish when it comes to the sight of blood.”
