MudakMaksim clears his throat, breaking the tension. “So, boss,” he says, his eyes still glinting with amusement but more subdued now, “what are we gonna do with them?”
I glance at Dmitry, his eyes now back on me, waiting for my answer.
They both want to know the plan.
The fucking plan.
The one I thought I had, the one where Clara was just another piece on the board, another problem to solve.
But now?
Now I’m looking at a kid who wasn’t supposed to exist, and I’m not sure how to play this hand.
2
Clara
Iwake up to the smell of… lavender?
What the hell?
My head throbs. It’s like my brain is too big for my skull, pounding against it with every slow beat.Fuck,what did they drug me with this time? I blink, trying to focus, but everything’s fuzzy. The light pouring into the room is too damn bright, making my eyes sting.
I scan from the ceiling down to the bed, then land on Elijah, sleeping next to me, curled up in the blankets. His little hand is clutching onto my shirt.
Thank God. Oh, my baby.
I gently pull him closer to my body, pressing my lips to the top of his head. The familiar smell of him, the warmth—it calms the panic clawing at my chest. He stirs a little, letting out a soft murmur, but doesn’t wake up. His tiny fingers twitch against my shirt.
I need to move. I need to think.I need a plan.Slowly, I slide myself apart from Elijah, careful not to wake him.
My head spins, a wave of dizziness hitting me the second I sit up. I wince, pressing my palm to my forehead, trying to will the pounding to stop.
Focus, Clara.
There’s a weird taste in my mouth—chemical, bitter. I try to swallow it down, but it sticks in the back of my throat like poison.Shit.I run my tongue over my teeth, but it doesn’t help.
I glance at the door.
Closed.
Locked, no doubt.
I don’t even need to try it to know. The room is bigger than the one they had me in before. Lighter, too. The pale walls are a soft cream color, like something out of a hotel.
My eyes flick to the wide window across the room.Daylight.I close my eyes for a second, trying to ground myself.
Breathe, Clara.
I slide out of the bed, feet hitting the wooden floor. The warmth from the sunlight contrasts sharply with the cold fear twisting in my gut. How long do I have? My eyes dart to the door, listening for footsteps. Silence. For now.
I pace to the window. My fingers twitch, wanting to yank it open to see if there’s a way out. But, of course, it’s locked tight. Figures. I lean my head against the cool glass and close my eyes. Trapped. Again.
Just as I turn back to the room, the door clicks. My whole body tenses, ready for whatever’s coming. But it’s not Leonid or one of his goons.
It’s her.
Kayla.She’d helped me escape once.
