“Bogdan!”
He turns to me, his eyes wide. “Run! Run now!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“Yes, you are! Go!” His voice cracks with desperation. “They want you alive! Run while you still ca?—”
But it’s too late. Arms wrap around me from behind. I try to scream, but a huge hand clamps over my mouth. I try to see what’s happening to Bogdan, but I can’t. The man behind me pulls me away from the column and out of sight.
I try to bite, my teeth finding the meat of the palm and sinking into it, followed by the copper taste of blood. The man groans with pain, and then a blow lands at my temple. White light explodes behind my eyes.
The last thing I see before being thrown into the back of a van is Bogdan slumped bedside the pillar, his hand reaching out for me.
Then the doors slam. Tires shriek. Finally, there’s only the sound of my own heartbeat—wild, terrified.
I’m alone.
CHAPTER 39
SASHA
“Don’t worry, this is neutral ground,” Johan had said earlier.
I still don’t trust the meeting site he picked, and I always trust my gut.
We’re meeting with Peter in a boardroom in a high-rise near the river. Not Orlov property, not Morozov. Some place we paid a few thousand to rent for a couple of hours, like college students organizing a frat party.
“Too exposed,” I say. “Too many windows, too many chances for this to go sideways.”
Maybe that’s Johan’s plan—he wants us all on edge enough to behave.
We’re just outside of it. Through the glass doors of the boardroom, I can see a small group of men already seated. Beyond, through the tall windows, is a late-winter’s day of white sky and softly falling snow. We’re up high enough that I can see the frozen steel expanse of the lake.
“It’s my father,” he says with a confident smile. “He’s not going to pull any stunts like that.”
Some choice words come to mind, words that might undermine his confidence in his statement. But I push those aside.
The door opens and one of my men steps out.
“What’s the word in there?” I ask.
“Room’s clear, no one’s armed. Everything’s on the up-and-up.”
I lean to the side, spotting Peter at the head of the long table.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Johan says.
“Nervous isn’t the right word.”
Johan purses his lips. He knows the truth. Telling him was the whole reason I was able to get him here for this meeting, how I managed to have him arrange it with his father. The pretext is business, but there’s more to it than that.
Peter’s going to learn the truth about Gabriella.
“More that I know we’re right on the edge of this world changing forever. Nothing will be the same,” I explain.
“But that’s a good thing,” Johan says. “I learned I have a sister. Half-sister, anyway. More family means more joy, right?”
I grunt in response. Very good odds that Peter’s not going to be thinking about more joy. He’s going to be thinking about the lies, the betrayal.
