“Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. A strand of hair falls across his forehead. “Let me guess, you just went home and hoped for the best?”
I don’t answer. That’s exactly what I did. The silence stretches. His hand is still covering mine, warm and solid. I should pull away.
“But you are okay though, right? I mean, that was a lot of blood for one person to lose. You could’ve gone into shock or had organ damage.”
“I’m fine, Kelly.”
He gives me a sad look, and I don’t know what to do with it. Why does he give a shit if I lived or died? We’re strangers. He should want me dead after what I did, not sitting here relieved I survived.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and the spell shatters. I tear my hand back so fast it nearly slams into the steering wheel.
“I need to take this.” I glance at the screen, and Daniil’s name lights up.
I don’t look at him when I speak. “Keep your mouth shut about tonight.”
Then I glance at him anyway. He nods and leaves the car.
I press the phone against my forehead while it’s still vibrating and tap it there once, twice.
I answer just before it stops ringing. “This better be fucking important, Daniil.”
He struggles to get the words out, stuttering through whatever he’s trying to tell me.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have snapped at him.
If he’s calling instead of texting, something’s really wrong. Or he screwed up tonight, and I’m going to lose what’s left of my patience.
I soften my voice. “Text me what you want to say, and I’ll respond here.”
The line goes quiet except for his breathing. I can hear him moving around, probably typing on his phone. My phone buzzes with a text a few seconds later.
“I got it,” I say into the phone. “Let me read this, and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”
Chapter 6
Alexei
Isit in an old, beat-up gray Toyota across from Kelly’s clinic, in one of the cars we keep for when we need to stay invisible. No tint, no features worth noticing. Smells like old sweat and cardboard, and the seat’s worn down to nothing.
Should have known better than to think I could just drop him off and walk away clean.
Four days since I left him outside his building, and I’m already back here, engine cold, watching him through windows.
So much for self-control.
I’ve shown remarkable restraint by staying out of his apartment since I dropped him off. Haven’t been inside once. That’s progress.
That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped watching—just from a distance now.
Daniil had a breakdown that night, blowing up my phone with frantic texts about Mikhail not coming home. The two of them have serious attachment issues, and no one in this family has ever dealt with any of it properly.
But here I am, proving we’re all the same brand of broken. Sitting in a surveillance car, cataloging the life of someone who doesn’t know I exist outside of two strange nights.
I’ve gone through everything I can access: his apartment, his clinic file, every digital trace he’s made in the last year.
I’ve counted the steps from his bedroom to his kitchen. Ten steps; eleven if he avoids the squeaky floorboard. I know his coffee order, his grocery list, the fact that he owns three books and hasn’t opened any of them.
I know everything.
