And why is he protecting me?
My memory blurs when I try to recall what happened after the first beer that night, a black void stitched together with flashes of his eyes, his hand, his mouth.
But that’s nothing compared to the certainty that I’m in over my head, treading water in the middle of an ocean made of secrets and violence. And I think it all traces back to the island.
I slowly—soundlessly—twist the bathroom doorknob and exit.
I just need to put on my happy face and suffer through this until I can get him to tell me why he’s really here and what he knows about this situation and my past.
I go into my bedroom and ruffle blindly for clothes that are more fugitives-on-the-run appropriate before moseying into the living room, my attention on nothing in particular.
Kolya gazes out the broken window.
He’s unnaturally still, like a statue built to outlast the same kind of storm that trashed my living room.
The couch is overturned, my books are scattered casualties, and the rug is bunched up in the center of the floor like someone tried to strangle it.
So much for cleaning up, though I can see he tried.
I glide into the kitchen, every nerve on high alert. Compared to the chaos of the living room, the kitchen appears untouched. The empties I cleaned up the other night are still lined up by the sink. Next to them, I spy the glass vial I’d meant to throw away.
The vial…
My fingers tremble as they graze the cold glass. It’s so small, so fragile, but the sight drains all the warmth from my body.
I should remember that night.
And I don’t.
Footsteps fall behind me. I pivot.
Kolya stands in the kitchen doorway with the dead-eyed focus of a hunter who’s already decided how this will end.
I lift the vial between two quivering fingers. “When did you search my place?”
One second, he’s at the edge of the kitchen. The next, his hand clamps over my mouth, crushing my lips back against my teeth. His other arm snakes around my waist, hoisting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.
The glass vial slips from my hand and bounces on the floor.
He drags me through the wrecked entryway, out onto the walkway, and past the scattered pieces of my life. The entire neighborhood is still, houses pressed tight to their secrets, the distant pop of a leftover firework the only sign of life.
He whirls me around to face him, his eyes boring into mine.
“Listen to me. You’re safer with me than you are here. Do you understand that?”
I nod without fully believing the claim. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
His grip loosens, and he smooths my hair away from my face, his rough gentleness reminiscent of an apology.
Then he marches me down the street, away from the home I built.
Chapter 23
Kolya
Hours later, I drag Chloe through the reinforced door of the safe house, my hand firm on her elbow.
Beneath my fingers, her body radiates heat and fury. Gone is the sweet kindergarten teacher that’s all sunshine and rainbows. Except for the part where she paused to take her shoes off by the door.
