Because I needed something solid. Something real. Something I could take to someone who would believe me. I thought if I could just find one person to validate what I saw, to say I wasn’t crazy or overreacting, I could run. I could blow the whole thing open and escape with my life still mine.
But now eventhatfeels foolish.
What did I think I was going to find? Evidence that wouldn’t already be swept clean? A crowd of onlookers eager to confirm my story and risk their lives in the process?
“I…” I start, then stop. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“Your curiosity is what’s going to put you in more danger. Keep feeding into it and you’ll continue to run into me. I can promise you that,Milaya,” he says.
The implication hangs heavy in the air like a promise. I know what he’s really saying. I can still make a choice. I can play nice, stay quiet, keep my head down. Or I can keep pulling at the threads and watch everything unravel, including me.
My fingers dig into my coat sleeves. “I want to go back. To Sergei’s.”
“No.”
My stomach drops. The word echoes like a death sentence. “No?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, turning back around to face the steering wheel. He slips the keys out of the ignition. “Not yet. I need to make sure you haven’t passed along any of what you’ve learned to anyone.”
“Ihaven’t.”
“And Ihopethat’s true. Because if you have, Ivy, things are going to get very difficult for you. For everyone you’ve involved.”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. So I suggest you cooperate. The sooner you do, the sooner I can confirm you haven’t compromised us. And once I do, you’ll be returned to Sergei.”
I slump against the backseat, defeated.
The guest roomthey lock me in is stunning.
I absolutely hate it.
High ceilings, a four-poster bed so soft I might drown in it if I ever get the courage to lie down and nap while Maksim and his men go through my phone. Velvet curtains and crystal light fixtures. A view of the backyard beyond the estate that’s snow-dusted.
There’s a soaking tub in the bathroom and white marble floors. A silk robe hangs on the hook behind the door like this is some five-star suite and not a temporary prison.
The door is locked from the outside.
I pace until the carpet is printed permanently with my footsteps. I try the window even though I already know it’s pointless since I’m on the second floor and the sheer drop alone will break my legs if the camera mounted above my window doesn’t catch me first.
No way to escape.
Nowhere to run.
I’m a sitting duck until they finally call me down for my interrogation. Or my execution.
God, I’m so fucked.
12
MAKSIM
By the time Ivy’s locked safely inside the guest suite, I can already feel the headache forming behind my eyes.
The click of the reinforced lock echoes louder than it should. I linger in the hallway for half a second longer than I should. Strangely, it feels wrong trapping her in a room she isn’t familiar with, but then again, where else would I put her?
Lev posts two of our best men at her door, both handpicked and too professional to get distracted by her pretty eyes and English-accented begging. I don’t bother pretending she’s going to sit quietly and wait for this to blow over while Matvey and I go through her digital footprint for the next few hours.
