Kayla steps closer, her smile faint but genuine. “This?” She raises an eyebrow and waves at the tight blue fabric. “This is… memorable. But I’ve seenSeñorMaksim attempt to cook. That was worse.”
I snort, the sound unexpected even to me. “I’ll bet. Let me guess—he thinks vodka’s a seasoning?”
Her shoulders shake with quiet laughter as she moves behind me. “Among other things. Now, hold still, please.”
“Wait—” I start, but Kayla’s already reaching for the zipper, and before I can protest further, the uniform loosens around me. The sudden relief makes me sigh.
“This is too tight,” she mutters, shaking her head like the fabric personally offended her.
“I know,” I say through clenched teeth.
Kayla’s eyes crinkle at the edges, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she steps back and gestures toward the mirror. “There. Better, no?”
I glance at my reflection and groan. My hair’s a mess—half falling loose, half plastered to my face. My makeup’s a smudged disaster, and I look like I’ve gone three rounds with a wind tunnel.
“Fantastic,” I mutter.
Kayla doesn’t react, just pats my arm lightly. “Shower,Señorita. You’ll feel better.”
“Is Leonid back yet?” I ask, more out of habit than hope.
Kayla shakes her head, turning toward the wardrobe to pull out something far less constricting. “No,Señorita. But he left instructions. Shower. Eat.” She glances at me with a sly look. “He said you’d argue.”
“Did he now?” I mutter, crossing my arms.
Kayla steps closer, gently but firmly guiding me toward the bathroom. “AndSeñorDmitry is waiting in the car.”
I pause mid-step, narrowing my eyes. “In the car? At this hour?”
Kayla doesn’t look at me, instead smoothing invisible wrinkles in the plush robe she’s hung on the door. “SeñorLeonid said you’re to join them.”
“To join them for what?”
Her movements still for the briefest moment before she turns back to me, her face calm but unreadable. “For the farewell.”
“Farewell?” The word sticks in my throat, my mind racing.
66
Leonid
Blood drips steadily against concrete, each drop echoing in the basement’s silence. Stephan hangs upside down, zip ties cutting into his ankles. His designer suit jacket lies shredded on the floor, soaking up the growing puddle beneath him.
Dim light flickers from a single bare bulb overhead, casting their twisted shadows against the cold, damp walls. The bricks here are old, stained with stories I don’t need to hear to know they ended badly. Ludis keeps his torture room meticulously efficient. He’s a madman, but his methods are disturbingly effective—and today, they’re mine to use.
Aleksei whimpers from the metal chair to my left. Most of his nails are gone, leaving raw, mangled stubs. His left ear dangles by a thread of cartilage, the rest somewhere on the floor behind me.
Ludis stands by the workbench, wiping his blade with slow, practiced strokes. The steel gleams under the harsh light as he inspects the edge.
“Leonid…” Aleksei croaks, his voice cracking like brittle glass. “Please…”
I crouch, eye-level with him now. The desperation in his eyes flickers when I get close.
Aleksei’s remaining fingers scrabble against the chair’s arms. “We can fix this. I can—”
“Can what?” I lean close enough to smell his fear. “Bring our mother back?”
Aleksei’s eyes widen, tears streaming down his face as his nose runs uncontrollably. His mangled hands tremble, blood dripping onto the floor. I lift his chin with two fingers, forcing him to meet my eyes. “My father trusted you like a brother.”
