Prologue
Mila’s POV
Of all the ways to spend a snowy Saturday night in February, getting stranded on the side of the road had to be one of the worst. Scratch that, it was the worst. But that was the exact situation my best friend and I found ourselves in.
It was 7:10 pm, and we were standing beside the road on the outskirts of Brooklyn because Anya’s beloved car decided to die, forcing us out onto an isolated stretch of road and exposing us to the freezing evening air.
We had been cruising peacefully on the road, arguing about where to get takeout food from before the vehicle started acting up. The sounds came first, and then the car refused to accelerate—and then it stopped just beside the road. As we got out of the car, we were grateful it didn’t break down before she managed to move it to the side of the road. But after a minute of wrapping our arms around ourselves while Anya’s mechanic’s line kept going to voicemail, annoyance—and maybe a bit of fear—settled in.
“How the hell do we leave this place?” I questioned, sighing.
“All for a crappy conference,” Anya complained, sweeping the stray tendrils of her hair off her face.
She wasn’t lying. We weren’t unserious or anti-social students who balked at the idea of attending academic or even co-curricular activities and gatherings. But the psychology seminar we were coming from wasn’t necessary as far as coursework was concerned. The only reason we had decided to go was our love for Professor Martina, who we learned was a co-host of the seminar.
“I would have been okay with every other thing if Dr. Marinelli hadn’t stepped in to cut her short,” I expressed.
“And for a tea break? Why didn’t they think of that when Professor Logan was boring the hell out of us for hours?” she chimed in.
“His non-behavioral take on a behavioral theory,” I went on. “Even a B.Sc. student would be ashamed of spending days preparing such a sorry excuse of a lecture.”
“Rubbish.”
The wind howled through the empty street, making it feel even more dangerous. I blew out a gust of air through my mouth, trying to contain my unease.
“Okay. The mechanic is a no-show. I’ll call my brother.”
“If some maniac doesn’t haul us into his vehicle before then,” I remarked.
“Come on, we’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” she answered, chuckling.
“Hm, you’d say the same thing if we were stuck in a burning house.”
Anya giggled.
“Well, it’s true!” she defended. “We’ll be on the road in a few minutes. I’ll call him now.”
“How do we even know he’s going to come. It’s a Saturday night,” I pointed out, shrugging.
Although I had never met him, I knew Anya had an older brother. According to her, he mostly ran the family business since she was still studying and wasn’t interested. Knowing the Lobanovs, I didn’t need to ask much about the business.
Anya spoke briefly with her brother while I went back to the car to grab our purses.
“He’ll come. He always does,” she told me, collecting her purse from me.
“Okay.”
“Raincheck on takeout?”
“Definitely,” I answered. “I don’t think I can stomach anything, anyway.”
“Oh, I could eat a horse right now.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “You’re unfazed enough for the both of us.”
“Hm-mm. There’s nothing to be worried about,” she shrugged, and we both burst out laughing.
A sports car went past and then slowly rolled backwards, towards where we stood.
