An anxiety I can’t contain mounts in my chest. A raw, primal sob rips from my throat. Then another. And another. Soon, I’m on my knees in the middle of my destroyed home, clutching the image of my threatened sister to my chest, body convulsing with the force of my fear.
No. Please, no.
Not Samantha. Not my baby sister. The only good thing I’ve managed not to ruin. She believes in me, depends on me. She doesn’t know I’m the reason our mother died and our father left. She’s the one person I’ve dedicated my life to protecting, to giving a future to.
The one person I cannot—will not—let them hurt.
But how do I stop them? Gio with his millions and his connections. Alexei with his gun and his threats. I doubt the police would believe me. They might even be on one of their payrolls.
My breath comes in ragged gasps as I stumble out of my apartment while still clutching the photo of Samantha. The hallway spins around me. Grimy walls close in. The ancient carpet beneath my bare feet is sticky with decades of spilled beer and God knows what else.
I need to run, to hide, to get as far away from this place as possible.
Heavy footsteps approach.
“Bailey.” The all-too-familiar voice sends a fresh wave of dread through my already overloaded system.
I whirl around, pressing my back against the wall. My landlord stands five feet away, arms crossed over his stained white wifebeater, eyes roving over me with undisguised interest. Maurice Kaplanski, a fiftysomething man with thinning hair combed over a shiny scalp, has the perpetual stink of cheap cigars clinging to his clothes.
On the first of every month, he’s the bane of my existence. Given a choice between dealing with Maurice and my period, I’d choose stomach cramps and bloating every time.
“Late on rent, Bailey. Again.” He clicks his tongue against his yellowed teeth, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I know, I know. I get paid next Friday. I swear I’ll have it then.” At least, I hope Nick honors his word.
“Hmm.” His lust-filled gaze skims over me, catching on where my bare legs meet the short hem of the filthy maid costume.
My skin crawls more than usual.
“I promise I’ll pay you then. I’ve got half of it in the bank already. And I’m working special gigs. They pay extra! Tips are great for?—”
“Heard that before.” A calculating expression narrows his eyes. “And rent’s going up.”
The words knock the breath from my lungs. “What? How much?”
“A lot.” Maurice comes closer and places a hand on the wall beside my head, invading my space. The scent of cheap cigars and body odor engulfs me. “But you and me, we could work something out.”
His gaze crawls over the costume again, lingering on places I want to scrub. Understanding dawns. This isn’t the first time he’s suggested alternate payment methods. But there’s something more predatory in his current approach, as if he senses my desperation, my vulnerability.
He’s like a jackal, circling in when the prey is already wounded.
“I don’t think so.” Though I try to sound firm, my voice wavers. I’m exhausted, terrified, and at the end of my rope. I have no leverage or power in this situation.
A shadow detaches from the end of the hallway, elongating across the grimy carpet. I sense the shift in the air before I even fully register what I’m seeing. A presence, massive and silent, moving with deliberate purpose toward us.
My heart stutters, then quickens once recognition zips through me.
Alexei.
Maurice’s body goes rigid. Animal instinct. A predator sensing a larger, deadlier predator. His arm drops from the wall, and he retreats a little.
A silent, surprisingly intense cheer blossoms in me. This is the first time I’ve ever seen my landlord scared. The satisfaction is brief but potent.
Alexei prowls forward with controlled, measured steps, his cold blue eyes flicking between us as he assesses the situation. Anger is banked but visible in the tight line of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders.
Maurice puffs up his chest, trying to reclaim the authority that just evaporated. “Who the fuck are you?”
Alexei doesn’t answer. Not right away.
