I huff a laugh at that. “That’s one way to look at it.” I see the distraction still walking in her face. It is small and precise. It creeps behind her eyes and hides when I try to catch it.
I do not press. I do not need to. She will tell me what she can when she can. Until then I carry what I must and let her carry the rest. She is a worried mother. Tonight would be stressful on its own without that factor adding pressure to the festivities. Dragging it out of her would only rile her up more.
Vitaly will come. There is no cleaner chance for him than this room and this night. He will bring too much heat and not enough sense.
I will use that and any other tools at my disposal to eliminate the threat. If I die tonight, she will live. If he dies tonight, she will live.
Either way, my family survives. That’s all anyone can ask for in this life.
25
MINA
Rope looksthe same from the street. Tall doors. Black glass. Music you feel before you hear it. Last time I stood here, I was a woman who had never seen a room like this. I was brave because I had decided to be.
Tonight, I have to be brave enough to be Vitaly’s assassin.
Roman steps out of the car, and the doors part without being touched. Faces turn. Necks tilt. The darkness opens because the room knows how to make space when a man like him arrives. He holds my hand, and I let his touch steady me. We walk through body heat and staggered breathing, all eyes on us.
The air inside is cool. It smells like clean leather, candle wax, sex, and money. Bass pulses under the floorboards in a steady line. The light is low but not hazy. Everything important can still be seen in blue and purple lights.
A woman in a black lace mask walks by with a leash in her hand and a man at the other end. A bartender flips a bottle and does not spill. A couple takes a slow kiss against a pillar. A rope rig hangs in the far room like a threat. Or maybe a promise.
Different scenarios play out in this space for public play. There are private playrooms too, but voyeurs and exhibitionists have their fun in the main space. A few bound submissives are spanked or fingered in a dark corner. On the right wall, a man has his hands tied over his head, and people take turns tickling him. He is completely naked. And very erect.
Last time all of this looked like a storm I had to walk into without a coat. Now it looks like a set. I know the marks. I know the exits. I am not afraid of the rope or the mask or the crowd or their versions of fun.
I am afraid of one man and what he told me to do.
I scan the room without turning my head. Vitaly loves to be seen. He also loves to make you think you cannot see him until he wants it. He will not miss this. He will not miss the chance to watch his father die.
He’s waited his whole life for this.
We walk toward the throne. It sits on the same small black stage where I met Roman. The steps up are shallow and wide. The seat is high-backed and plain from a distance. Up close, there is filigree you only notice when you are inside the circle. The button that lifts the walls is a pressure plate hidden in the arm. Smooth black walls live under the floor and rise smooth when he requires privacy.
I remember the first time he pressed it and the sound the whole room made when we disappeared. A hush. A lean-in. A feeling like a lid closing on a jar. Luxurious, isolated, and private.
A royal room fit for a king to die in.
He squeezes my fingers once and lets go. He has a face he wears here. Command with a hint of indulgence and more dignity than needed. He sits and becomes the center of attention. I sit on his lap.
His plaything.
His doom.
Lighting warms by a degree. The DJ lowers the bass a little so he can hear the room. Security lines shift. The new head of security—Aldo—moves like a quiet dog that likes only one owner. The old ghosts do not stand in his line.
I feel their absence like a bruise. I know I am alive because men and women died for me. What brought them to that line of work? Money? A sense of honor? I’ll never know.
Whatever their reason, it’s not enough. No one should be in a position to die for someone else.
Yet, that’s exactly what will happen tonight. And I hate myself for it.
He touches my waist with warm hands. He kisses my temple and smiles at the room. I smile back like the smile is for him. It is for the man I told myself I would betray if I had to. It is for the man I am praying I will not need to hurt. If he kills Vitaly first, I will throw the knife into the floor and go to my knees and thank every bad god who came to watch the carnage unfold.
I keep my eyes up without flicking. The mezzanine is a narrow ring with small tables. The stairs to it sit in deep shadow. If Vitaly came with a mask and a membership card, he could sit at the rail and no one would ask his name.
I look for a head that does not move when the music moves. I look for the absence of rhythm. That’s something he’s bad at—dancing, rhythm, blending in with other people. Vitaly Ekimov is many things, but normal is not one of them.
