“I know.”
“You’re not staying forever.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Neither am I,” she whispers, so softly that I almost miss it.
Then she’s gone, and I stand in the empty apartment and stare at the drawing in my hands. Three figures. A family. The word bounces around inside my head alongside Daria’s parting words.
She’s planning to run. She has been all along.
She’s not a traitor, she’s a prisoner trying to find a way out. I was too blinded by her maternal side to see it.
10
Daria
Kira has been at Masha’s house for exactly forty-three minutes when my phone rings.
I’m standing at the kitchen counter, slicing carrots for tonight’s soup. The knife is dull, and I’ve been meaning to sharpen it for weeks. One of those small tasks that keeps getting pushed aside for bigger emergencies.
The vibration of my phone against the countertop makes me flinch. I set down the knife and wipe my hands on a dish towel before glancing at the screen.
Blocked number. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.
I consider pretending I didn’t hear it, that I was in the shower or out running errands. But Bogdan always knows, and the punishment for ignoring him is worse than whatever he’s about to say.
So, I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Darling.” His voice slides through the speaker like oil. “I hope you’re sitting down.”
“What do you want, Bogdan?”
“The same thing I always want. What’s mine.” Ice clinks in a glass on his end as he adds, “I’ve been patient with you, Daria. More patient than you deserve. But my patience has limits, and you’ve reached them.”
“I’ve done everything you asked.”
The pleasant tone vanishes. “You haven’t given me a single piece of useful information.”
“I’ve already told you: Pyotr doesn’t tell me anything. He barely speaks to me.”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.” The ice clinks again. “He carries a phone, doesn’t he? Leaves it on the counter when he showers? On the nightstand when he sleeps?”
“What are you asking me to do?”
“I’m not asking, I’m telling. Get into his phone. Copy his messages, his contacts, anything that shows who he’s talking to and what they’re planning. Some apps can do it in seconds. I’ll send you a link.”
“I can’t do that. If he catches me?—”
“Then don’t get caught. When I arrive, you will hand me that information, or I’ll take our daughter. The choice is yours.”
The kitchen tilts sideways, and when I speak again, my voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. “You can’t take her. You don’t have custody. You don’t have any legal?—”
“Legal?” The sound of his chuckle scrapes down my spine. “Since when do men like me worry about what’s legal? You know who my uncle is, Daria. I have resources you can’t imagine. People in places that would make your head spin. If I want Kira, I’ll take her. The only thing standing between me and my daughter is your cooperation.”
“You don’t even want her. You just want to hurt me.” The words tear out before I can stop them, and I slap my hand against my mouth as if that will take them back.
“It’s quite simple. Clone his phone and bring me what’s on it. Do that, and we can keep things civil.” He pauses, and I can almost hear him smiling. “Fail, and the next time you see Kira, it’ll be in a courtroom. If you’re lucky.”
