Before he can say another word, a shadow falls over the corridor. I recognize the shape immediately without needing to turn around.
Roman appears like he’s been summoned, like he sensed I was in danger. The air changes instantly. Max’s eyes flash with fear. In that moment, he’s more of a scared little boy than a cop.
I turn and watch as Roman approaches. He’s assessing the scene, sizing it up. Max is too close, I’m standing behind a trashcan, and we’re in a corridor with no witnesses and one exit. Roman’s gaze flicks from my face to Max’s.
Something flashes in Roman’s eyes. Not jealousy, not anger, more like calculation. He steps between Max and me.
“Step away, Detective.” Roman speaks the words quietly and calmly.
Max obeys instantly. It’s almost comical, like some innate part of him realizes he’s in the presence of a more dangerous kind of predator.
“Listen, Barinov,” Max says. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Seems like you’ve found it anyway. Or perhaps, you still have a decision to make.”
Max’s jaw tightens. He throws one last look at me, like he’s trying to decide if he wants to say anything else before he runs away with his tail between his legs. He’s always been a fan of the final, cruel barb over the shoulder on the way out.
However, when Roman’s gaze sharpens, he seems to reconsider.
“Fine,” Max says. “Fine.”
He starts down the hall. I turn to watch him leave, spotting Andrei at the opening. Andrei says nothing as Max approaches and passes, simply standing there like a statue, making sure Max doesn’t try anything on the way out.
When Max disappears around the corner, relief washes over me.
Roman turns to me. “Why was he here? He was waiting for you?”
“Yeah. Must’ve been following me, saw me heading to the bathroom and hurried in here to meet me.”
“But for what reason? What did he say?”
“Just that I needed to be careful with my new job. That I wasn’t cut out for it.”
Roman’s jaw works as he processes the information. “But nothing else?”
“Nope. Probably would’ve insulted my weight if you hadn’t shown up.”
I’m making it sound almost innocent, but part of me wonders what Max really would’ve done. Texting me at night is one thing. Tracking me down, following me, catching me alone, that’s another.
Roman’s gaze darkens. “Did he threaten you?”
“No. He wanted to talk, that’s it.”
Roman watches me closely as I speak. Too closely, like he thinks I might be lying.
I lift my chin. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”
A beat.
Roman nods once. “Good.”
That’s it. No interrogation, no demand for more details. It’s almost nice, like he’s trusting me. But something not-so-nice comes with it. There’s an ownership to how he’s approaching the situation, like I’m a possession he needs to protect.
I push the thought aside.
Roman places his hand on the small of my back. I hate that it feels so good, so reassuring.“Come.”
He leads me down the hallway. When we step out into the mall, part of me worries that Max is somewhere, waiting, watching. But upon a quick glance around, I don’t see him.
