Right on cue, over the exact spot where his claim sits, a gentle tingling sensation spreads over my hand and down my fingers. I’m not sure if it’s an actual physical thing I feel when I think of him, or if it's psychosomatic. The sensation is as confusing as his acting like I didn’t first exist, then cleaning up my room like I matter.
My tummy rumbles, and instead of worrying about things I can’t solve, I focus on what I can do, which is feed the dogs and make something for myself to eat.
I find a second note, this one stuck on the dog food shelf. He must have used Google Translate because some of the wording is back to front, but it’s still easy to follow. Pulling out their food, I leave it on the counter, since they're outside doing whatever they’re doing, and then I look for ideas as to what I could cook for myself.
Considering I can’t remember the last time I ate a proper meal and I’m starving, I opt for a whole roasted chicken with all the trimmings.
As soon as I put everything in the oven, the dogs reappear. It’s a bit of a guessing game as to how much I feed them. It’s another guessing game when I set their bowls in front of them and they look at me expectantly until I remember how well trained they are. After a few tries of “release” words, they either get impatient or I strike it gold with, “Okay to eat.”
I make coffee in a French press, grab a mug and some milk, and after they’ve done another quick visit outside, the three of us return to my side of the house to wait for the chicken to cook.
Turning on the television, I select a Russian sitcom for background noise and wait impatiently for something to eat, trying hard not to overthink. I talk to the dogs constantly.
“Nalla, do you think it’s weird Sergey left me alone?”
She’s been ignoring me but sits up at my question and drops her head into her shoulders, growling aggressively. It’s not just Nalla that reacts to his name; the black dog’s eyes lose their warmth. The dogs prove that animals are amazing judges of character.
The timer on my phone sounds, but I was watching the countdown and make it to the door before it goes off. It’s a very odd feeling being in someone’s house when they’re not, but at the same time, it’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever done. Talking to dogs might be.
Since I am here by myself, I left the door open to the secret kitchen ajar but rearm the door to outside. Now the hallway is full of the aroma of the roast, and my mouth waters. I kind of thought the dogs would have been right behind me, but when I enter the kitchen, I’m alone. Even when I pull the oven tray out and put it on the stovetop to rest, the dogs aren’t around.
Glancing outside, the day is as gloomy as ever, but it’s not as shitty as it was. The clouds are dark and moving over the sky, chased by high winds.
A blur of something along the edge of the roof catches my eye. I move backward from where I’m standing, shuffling to get a better look at the roof but standing out of view of the window. It’s probably nothing. I mean, the dogs would be going crazy if there was anything going on.
I stare at the same spot where I thought I saw something move for ages. I’m about to give myself a bit of a talking to about being paranoid when the black dog prowls past me. Tension radiates off him, and his gaze is leveled at the exact spot where I saw something.
I don’t want to twist around to see where Nalla is, in case my movement draws outside attention.
Something shifts up on the roof again. It’s not in the same spot; it’s further along. This time, the shape of a person is easy to define.
Nalla makes a deliberate noise behind me before I feel the tug on my clothing. “Jesus, you two are fucking scary,” I whisper to them, but the black dog keeps moving towards the back door.
For a second, I think Nalla will make me run. She still might, but instead of pulling me out of the kitchen, she joins her mate near the door to outside. I don’t know if I’m spurred on by insight or stupidity, but I duck low and punch in the code to unlock the door for them.
As soon as it’s done, Nalla bares her teeth at me as she moves to stand in front of me before they both start backing out of the room, forcing me to do the same.
We’re in the hallway as the noise of glass shattering from somewhere upstairs reaches us.
Barely another minute passes, and the sound of more glass shattering coincides with the thud of feet echoing from above.
The thought of leaving the dogs to fend for themselves makes me sick, but I turn and haul ass to my suite. I know this is what they’re trained for.
I make it to the top of the stairs when the whole house plunges into darkness. The hum of the heater winds down to nothing.
I freeze on the spot, worried I’ll miss hearing something or crash face-first into something or someone. I plaster my back to the wall before stepping, stopping, listening. I do the same thing over and over until I reach where the guard was stationed, at the top of the hallway down to my room.
I want to go to my room, but that’s the first place a person would look. I find a small room and race to a corner, tucking myself behind a chair and shrinking as small as possible. It’s hard not to think about the fact that I’m trapped in a house with the only two “weapons” I had, gone.
Chapter Sixteen
SANTIAGO
Kade finishes off the countdown, his last finger dropping before he disappears over the edge. The near-polar conditions make visibility hard, not that it matters. I could be blindfolded and with a bag over my head, and I’d still be able to track the men breaking into Petrov's house.
I’m not responsive to them, but every cell in my body, every thought in my head is homed in on her like an arrow.
Of course, whoever these pricks are, they’re about to be dead pricks.
