“He was my patient,” I reply, forcing the words into the empty space around me. “That was my responsibility.”
The train vibration returns, stronger this time, rattling faintly through the beams overhead before fading again. The chain of the light sways a fraction, then stills.
“How many captains trust Kiren Sovarin without question?” the voice asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer flatly.
The static clicks once, then cuts out completely. The sudden absence of sound feels heavier than the voice did. The warehouse returns to its own quiet, defined now by the buzz of the light overhead and the distant rhythm of the train line beneath us.
Lila exhales beside me, the breath slow but tight.
“They just want information,” she murmurs.
Then another mechanical click sounds near the personnel door. And this time, it’s followed by the sound of a lock disengaging. It releases with a low grinding sound that travels across the warehouse floor and sinks into the concrete.
Frigid air slips inside first, colder than what we have been breathing, bringing with it the faint scent of snow and exhaust. It brushes across my face and threads down the collar of my coat. Boots move across the floor, scraping faintly through the thin film of dust that coats the concrete.
I lift my head as far as the rope allows. Ivan Malenko approaches slowly, closing the distance between us one step at a time.
For a moment, I think my eyes are deceiving me. He doesn’t belong here. He looks the way he always does, wearing a pressed, tailored suit beneath his coat, his collar straight, and hair combed neatly back from his forehead as if he stepped out of an office.
My stomach tightens as I pull a slow breath through my nose, trying to slow the spike of adrenaline threatening to blur my focus. My pulse pounds hard enough that I feel it in my throat, while everything I thought I understood fractures around me.
Lila inhales sharply beside me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice catching in surprise.
Ivan looks at her first. “Making sure you’re safe.”
She stares at him as if the space between them has widened instead of narrowed.
“You did this?” The question leaves her breathless with disbelief.
Ivan doesn’t look away. “You weren’t the target.”
Lila’s expression changes in an instant, the shock hardening.
“We could have been killed!” she shouts, the sound breaking across the open warehouse and echoing back from the beams overhead. “They had guns! They were shooting at us!”
Her hands curl into her palms, her nails pressing into her skin.
“You weren’t the target,” Ivan repeats.
“That doesn’t make it acceptable!” she yells.
He studies her face carefully, not apologizing.
“I needed her here,” he says, nodding once toward me.
“You don’t need her tied up on the floor,” Lila snaps.
Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, and I realize with a jolt that her anger isn’t only about me. It’s about him. And whatever I’m not understanding about this situation.
“This is temporary,” Ivan states.
“Then untie us.” The words leave Lila quickly, pushed through clenched teeth.
Ivan looks at her, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not going anywhere.”
