Me:
Please don’t work too hard at your very normal office job
Alexei:
Funny.
Me:
I’m being serious. Don’t file too many documents.
Alexei:
I’ll try to restrain myself.
Me:
Thank you… And be safe please. I’ll text you when I’m heading home
Alexei:
Have fun zaychik.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, wondering how he didn’t tell me not to go. Didn’t get angry or possessive. Just told me to have fun.
My ex would’ve lost his mind over this. Would’ve guilt-tripped me into canceling, shown up at the restaurant to “check on me,” made having friends feel like a betrayal.
Alexei just let me go. Wants me out with Camilla. Wants me happy.
I don’t know what to do with that. This terrifying man who breaks into my apartment and kills people for a living is giving me more freedom than the cop I dated for two years.
That shouldn’t make sense. But here we are.
I giveCamilla a last hug before walking out of her apartment. I called an Uber so I don’t have to walk home. Camilla’s keeping my bike for me since there’s no way I’m biking home with this wine buzz. I’d probably fall over and then Alexei would take my bike and hide it like I’m a child who can’t be trusted with wheels.
“See you. Go have fun with your hot Russian,” she says, kissing my chin.
“Have a good weekend.”
She smiles and closes the door while I head for the elevator. It’s pitch-black outside with that cold, bone-deep November darkness that makes everything feel hostile. I just want to crawl into bed with my boyfriend.
Wait. We never actually said what we are, but I think we’re together? He basically lives at my apartment when he’s not working, and we don’t really leave much.
I push the door open and the cold air hits like a slap. Glancing around, I groan when I see my Uber’s running late. I pull out my phone to check the app. This city and the constant traffic jams.
A car pulls up in front of me.
That’s not the car I booked.
I take a step back, then another.
The driver door opens, and a man steps out.
“Hello, Kelly. Get in the car.”
The buzz evaporates instantly, replaced by ice-cold terror. My hands shake, and I can feel my breathing getting shallow because this is exactly how it always started with him, the calm voice right before everything exploded.
“How did you find me, David?” My voice is smaller—that automatic response to make myself less threatening, less likely to set him off. “If you come near me, I swear to god, I’ll scream.”
