Without a backward, glance, he turns and crosses the room. The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with the ghost of his touch on my face and the weight of everything unsaid.
15 - Sofia
When I finally remember who I am, an infiltrating spy from an enemy family, not some lovesick teenage girl. I kick myself out of bed and take advantage of Alexei’s absence.
He didn't even bother locking the door to his study. He obviously knows I can get in there, so why bother stopping me? His study still smells of him, and, taking a deep breath, I smile for a moment before forcing it away.
Then I get to work.
The Kuzmins meeting schedule sits on top of scattered pages, his usual precision destroyed by whatever demons he wrestled with while I was passed out in his bed.
Finally. Real intel my family needs. Shipping manifests with Cyrillic annotations. Security details in his neat handwriting. I photograph it all quickly with the burner phone Nico gave me.
The phone weighs heavier with each captured secret. Three locations for next week's meetings. Guard rotations. Weapons shipments that could shift the balance of power in Chicago. My thumb hovers over the send button. One tap and this information saves my family. One tap and I'm still the weapon they forged me to be.
But I keep seeing Alexei's face. Destroyed, red-rimmed eyes that couldn't meet mine. The man who's held knives to my throat couldn't even look at me after learning I loved his brother.
Before I can overthink it any more, I dial the number. Nico.
"Sof? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just needed to check in."
"That's twice in two days." His voice sharpens the way it does before violence. "After our meeting, now this. What's happened?"
The words pile up in my throat. My chest constricts like someone's fist is squeezing my heart. I found out I was in love with Mikhail. Or he was in love with me. Maybe both. He was trying to warn me about something. I collapsed speaking Russian last night. I'm falling for my captor and I can't remember why I'm supposed to hate him.
"I have more intel," I say instead, my palm sweating against the phone, making it slippery. "Beyond what I gave you before. The meeting with the Kuzmins and Volkov captains. New locations, times, updated security details."
"Send it."
My thumb moves toward the photos on the screen. Such a simple motion. So why does it feel like a monumental betrayal?
"Sof. Send it."
"I'm still verifying. I don't want to make a mistake."
"You said the same thing about the Barone intel." His voice has gone hard now, the tone he uses with enemies. Never with me. "What's going on? Is he doing something to you?"
Yes. He's unraveling me. He's making me question everything I thought I knew about that night, about myself, about what loyalty means. My pulse races, hammering against my ribs.
"No.I just need more time," I say.
"Time for what?"
The question hangs between us, and I realize I don't have an answer that makes sense. Time to understand why my body craves my enemy's touch? Time to remember what I promised a dead boy? Time to figure out how I can want Alexei even knowing what his family did to mine?
"Sofia." Nico's voice drops into that register that used to comfort me after nightmares. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, tell me."
"There's something else about the Russians. About their connection to me."
The words escape before I can stop them. The silence that follows feels infinite.
"What connection?"
"Mikhail Volkov. Before the massacre. I knew him, Nico. Really knew him. He wrote about me in his diary. Pages and pages about someone he called 'S.' It was me."
"Jesus. Are you saying…"
