“Correct.” She stands up, then grabs a fistful of his hair. She yanks his head back, looming over him with a blank, stoic expression. Yet, behind those sea blue eyes is the anger of a thousand men, something that chills me to the bones. “You’re here because your friends have kidnapped Blair. I don’t care about your involvement. I don’t care about their plans. I care about where they’re keeping her. And you can either tell me while I’m asking nicely, or I can truly show you how the Bratva deals with rotten bastards like you.’’
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure,” she repeats his words, her hand tightening around his hair. “Try again.”
“She was at one of Simmons’ summer houses. But that was last month. They keep changing locations with her because they know the De Santis are looking for her,’’ he swallows, his words coming out in splutters. “I’m not sure where she is at the moment.’’
“Alright, here’s how this is going to go.’’ Kaya smiles, and I freeze on the other side of the glass. That smile isn’t genuine nor friendly. No, it’s far worse. It’s the deadliest I’ve ever seen. “You are going to tell me every single location she’s been at and every possible one she could be at now. Then, you’re going to use my phone to call Simmons, or any of the other two — take your pick, and set up a meeting with them. You won’t act suspicious, and you won’t say anything that might give away that you’re being held captive. If you do, I’ll bring you your wife, slit her throat in front of you, and force you to drink her blood. All while your child watches it happen. Do. You. Fucking. Understand. Me?
Fear appears on his face, and he nods vigorously. The motherfucker is one of the most vile people I’ve ever seen, yet in some twisted, fucked-up sense, he seems to care about his family, or his son at least. And Kaya’s exploiting it to the fullest. That’s why she’s who she is — the biggest threat to the criminal world in New York.
She releases his hair and whisks out her phone from the back pocket of her pants. She presses the record button, then nods at Alexander. He starts listing address after address, then pauses for a moment before starting to give her the possible locations where Blair could be.
“Fantastic,” she hums. Once she stops recording, she puts the phone in his hand roughly. “Type in the phone number.”
With a thick swallow, Alexander obeys. His fingers tremble, but he gets it done. Kaya presses the call button, and it starts ringing.
“Paul Simmons speaking.” The call goes through, my shoulders getting rigid at the sound of his voice. Kaya givesAlexander a threatening glare, and the man takes in a deep breath, calming down his trembling body.
“It’s me,” he says.
It’s silent for a few seconds.
“Yes?”
“Something happened,” Alexander says, not moving his eyes from Kaya. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Meet me at Amy’s place.”
“I can’t right now,’’ Paul responds. “In four days’ time, midnight.”
The call ends, and Kaya puts the phone in her pocket.
“Arlo, can I kill him?”
“No, he’s Blair’s to kill.”
FIVE
The scent of Mom’s cooking causes my stomach to twist. I don’t remember the last time I had a proper meal. Since Blair’s gone missing, I’ve been at my apartment twice, just to grab some spare clothes and my weapons, then returned to the base. I slept in one of the rooms — well, as much as it was possible to sleep.
It’s my first time coming to my childhood home in four months, and that unique, soft, almost breezy scent of Mom’s air fresheners is enough to fill me with nostalgia. The sight of Aria’s middle school graduation pictures and my high school graduation dinner party with our closest family tugs on my heartstrings. Even though we were still affected by Jane’s murder and Luna’sdisappearance, times weren’t as difficult. We were managing to do day-to-day without having our souls ripped out of our chests.
“Arlo, baby,’’ Mom peeks her head through the kitchen door, my attention snapping to her. A soft smile appears on her lips when she comes forward, wrapping her arms around me. I surpassed her in height ages ago, yet she’s holding onto me so tightly that I’m scared she’ll actually crush me if she hugs me any harder. “You’re home.’’
“Where’s Aria?”
Mom pulls back, ushering me into the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything, just pushes me to sit on the chair next to the counter. A wooden cutting board is there, with a few thin slices of carrots on it, with a big knife next to it. Mom resumes cutting up the veggies, occasionally turning to the stove and stirring the pot.
“She’s in her room.”
“She’s been acting differently lately.”
Mom sighs. “Yeah, I know.” She pauses briefly, looking at me. “At first, I was ready to brush it off to teenage hormones. But it’s not like that. She hasn’t changed in that aspect. She still does her chores without a question, and because she’s still actively playing volleyball, I know she’s not doing drugs or alcohol. The school coach tests them regularly. But she’s been more…”
“Quiet? Reserved? The polar opposite of the Aria we know?”
Mom puts the rest of the veggies in the pot, tossing the knife and the cutting board into the sink. After stirring everything for a moment, she turns to look at me, a worried expression on her face.
“Aria knows she can talk to us. Hudson and I worked so hard to gain actual trust from both of you. And even if she doesn’t want to talk to us, she can always talk to you. She knows that. Why is she shutting us out?”
