Another stifled laugh answers me. He’s under there. I can hear the small scrape of a shoe.
I circle the room instead, letting my gaze move over the walls, the shelves, the ceiling corners. If there are cameras in here, they’re hidden well.
“Where can he be?” I pretend to check behind the armchair.
That’s when I notice the painting by the far wall of two men playing cards, one with a cigar in his mouth.
“I wonder if he’s even in here,” I say while my fingers brush the frame, and I feel it immediately: a large enough gap between canvas and wall that I hadn’t noticed at first.
Carefully, I slide my hand behind the painting, keeping my tone casual.
“Maybe he’s in the closet?”
Lev giggles again while I continue to examine the painting, unable to focus.
But I have to do this.
Gripping the frame with both hands, I lift it carefully from the hook, praying I don’t fumble it and send something worth more than my life crashing to the floor. The painting is heavier than I expected, but not so heavy I can’t manage it, and after a tense second, I lower it gently against the wall without letting it crash.
That’s when I see it.
A safe.
I take in the reinforced steel, knowing right away that this is a high-end mechanical safe. This will not be easy to break into, but I’ve done it before, and with the right tools, I can do it again.
“Lev?” I call again. “I’m gonna find you.”
I lift the painting back into place and adjust it carefully until it hangs straight, then run my fingertips along the frame to make sure I haven’t left a smudge behind.
Standing there, I listen for footsteps or any sign that I’ve triggered a secret alarm.
But there’s nothing. Maybe I actually pulled it off.
By the time I get Lev home from school the following afternoon, I’m even more on edge than I already was.
Kirill was quiet at breakfast. Not cold exactly, but quieter than usual. His answers were short, his expression unreadable, and the whole time, I had this awful feeling that he knew. Like somehow, he could see it on me: the fact that I’d been in his study, that I’d stood in front of his safe and thought about breaking into it.
But if he knows, why hasn’t he said anything?
I can’t let myself spiral. I need to stay focused.
Last night, I texted Eli and told him exactly what supplies I’d need if he wants his goddamn ledger, but he never answered.
Across the kitchen, Lev sits at the island, lining apple slices into a neat row before dipping one carefully into peanut butter.
I try to act normal, to keep my nerves from spinning out, but my leg won’t stop bouncing beneath the stool.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I jerk at the sound, startling Lev.
“Sorry,” I mutter with a tight smile, slipping my hand into my pocket to check the screen.
My stomach drops the second I see Eli’s name.
Eli
Meet me at the park. The one by your sister’s. I have what you need.
I type back quickly.
