“Why?”
“It is not for you to worry about.”
My stomach drops. “Is he coming back?”
“No.”
I stare at him, heart sinking. “Not at all?”
“He has business. You have training. These months will go quickly.”
“Months,” I echo. The word outrageous. “So he really isn’t coming back for months?”
Micha finally glances at me. His expression is blank. “I would tell my daughter concentrate on things she can control. Gustav is not one of them.”
The ache under my ribs deepens. I want to ask about our fall out, the rival boss, the dead men, the blood. I want to ask if the Council knows. If Gustav is in danger. If the world is about to collapse again.
I manage only one question. “Do they know he killed Vlad?”
“They suspect, but don’t have evidence.” Micha takes a sip of water. “It will be a problem when they do.”
A cold shiver crawls down my arms.
He rises to refill his drink. His phone sits unattended on the table. My pulse jumps. This is reckless. This is stupid. This is exactly what I shouldn’t do.
But I do it anyway.
I snatch the phone, open Gustav’s contact, and memorize the number in seconds. By the time Micha returns, the phone is in its rightful place and I’m chewing calmly like nothing happened.
Before my next class, I step into the hall, hand shaking slightly as I text the number I just memorized.
Me
I miss you.
I’m sorry about the phone.
The reply comes instantly.
Gustav
*Picture of a tombstone.*
Empty. Mocking. Threatening.
My eyes narrow. He could have killed me a dozen times already. He didn’t. He kissed me. Touched me. Covered me in blankets. Held me through the night like he feared the darkness inside him more than I did.
So I text him back.
Me
*Photo of me smiling sweetly.*
No response.
It makes irritation curl in my chest.
I exhale sharply. He is impossible. Dangerous and impossible and completely derailing my sanity and patience. Every time I feel closer to him, he slips from my fingers.
