For a long time afterward, we just lie there, tangled together, her head on my chest and my hand stroking through her hair. I can feel her breathing gradually slow, and the tension drain from her body.
"I'm scared," she says quietly. "I'm so scared, Kazimir."
"I know." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "But I've got you. I promise I've got you."
My phone rings, shattering the moment. I want to ignore it, to throw the damn thing across the room and stay here with Svetlana in my arms. But the ringtone tells me it's Ilya, and I can't ignore Ilya.
"I have to take this," I say reluctantly.
She nods, pulling away from me. I immediately miss her warmth.
I grab my phone from where I dropped it with my pants, answering as I walk into the living room. "Yeah?"
"I need you." Ilya's voice is clipped, urgent. "Now."
"What's going on?"
"I'll explain when you get here. How fast can you be at the warehouse?"
I glance back toward the bedroom, where I can see Svetlana pulling her shirt back on. "Twenty minutes."
"Make it fifteen."
He hangs up before I can respond. I stand there for a moment, staring at the phone, dread pooling in my gut. Ilya doesn't sound panicked—he never does—but there's an edge to his voice that I recognize. This isn’t going to be a fun evening, and I’m not going to get home anytime soon, probably.
I go back into the bedroom, already reaching for the rest of my clothes. Svetlana watches me dress, her expression unreadable. "You have to go."
"Yeah." I buckle my belt, then sit on the edge of the bed to pull on my boots. "Ilya needs me."
"Of course he does." There's no bitterness in her voice, just resignation. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know. A few hours, maybe." I stand, then hesitate. "I'm going to call Artem. Have him come stay with you while I'm gone."
"I don't need a babysitter. I won’t run. I’ve accepted that it’s too dangerous out there for me to be on my own." There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but I can also tell that she’s telling the truth.
"Humor me." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "Please. Just until I get back."
She searches my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay."
I kiss her, hard and fast, then pull away before I can change my mind about leaving. "Stay put. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Kazimir?" She catches my hand as I turn to go. "Be careful."
"Always am."
I call Artem on my way down to my car, giving him quick instructions to get to my apartment and stay with Svetlana until I return. He doesn't ask questions, just agrees.
The drive to the warehouse takes exactly fifteen minutes. I spend the entire time trying to figure out what could have Ilya so on edge, running through possibilities in my mind. A rival making a move? A shipment gone wrong? One of our own turning traitor? The dealer from earlier must have been more important than I picked up on, which isn’t going to please Ilya.
I’m getting out of the car and walking to the warehouse when my phone buzzes. I pause, reaching for it, hoping that something hasn’t happened to hold Artem up. Then I see his name on the screen.
Three missed calls. And below those, a text message from a number I don't recognize.
I open the message, and the world tilts sideways.
It's a photo of Svetlana, bound and gagged, terror in her eyes. And beneath it, a message:
Your friend is dead.You'll never see her or your bastard child again.
