I’ve known for a few years I’m not normal. People touching me, even Ana, makes me long to shower in boiling water. Carefully, I peel myself from her hold, keeping her at an arm’s length.
“What was it this time?” She frowns, glancing out the window and down the road to where Papa’s car is still visible.
“Same as always.”
She tsks. “Lev, maybe stop that hobby.”
It’s not a hobby. Computers are becoming my life. Myfix. They make everything better. Some people have family, I have electronics. Computers and networks don’t ask dumb questions.
“Papa won’t stop,” she whispers, which is pointless; he’s no longer in the house. “Maybe you need to deny what you want in order to survive. It might be the only way this gets better.”
Ididn’t stay away from technology. Not that day, nor any of the others following, no matter how much Papa hated it.
That stretch of time in prison, as well as my conversation with Anastasia afterwards, did provide one valuable lesson that stuck with me right up to becoming an Elite member.
Sometimes, it’s safer to deny myself what I want.
There hasn’t been an instance of needing to yet. Vanessa has appreciated the networks I’ve built and anything else I bring to the organization. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have promoted me.
Until this job.
Until Serafina Mancini.
I’m denying what I think I want for her safety and my survival.
It fucking sucks.
I fixated on computers until my obsession grew into something more.
My fixation with figuring out Serafina can’t become an obsession. It can’t grow into anything more.
No matter how much I want to stop denying what I know—feel—deep down.
34
SERAFINA
For three days,“Let’s head to your next one”is the longest sentence Lev says to me.
His morning greeting is a head nod. He avoids the mansion most evenings. Vanessa mentioned him returning to work for good and helping her to track her cousin, Dimitri, who I’ve only ever seen the brief time he and the others came for Vanessa when she was being trapped by Zeno. Apparently, he isn’t responding to texts or calls from any of them.
It hurts.
Lev’s completely switched from agreeing we’re friends to this. It’s worse than when we were two strangers thrown together, because at least then, hetriedto be polite. This isn’t nice. It’s flat-out ignoring me.
Friday comes with a big sigh of relief. With Lev acting strange, the week sucked. Classes have been steady, and thankfully, Daniil hasn’t brought up the prospect of us going out again. I had a lengthy call with Madre on Wednesday, catching her up on all the positives, and my ever-growing pile of studying has been keeping me busy while Lev’s away.
I haven’t dared go downstairs once. Facing the empty basement, watching shows alone that now feel likeours, holds no appeal.
It’s with all these thoughts circulating that sleep evades me. Social media, staring at the ceiling, pacing the room—none of it is helping me pass out. With a sigh, I flip onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow. At this point, I’ll take suffocation in order to sleep. A silly notion, and once my lungs use up their reserve, I take a trip to the bathroom.
Maybe I’m too sleep-deprived to make sense of my next actions, but I turn for my door instead of the bed. Wrapping my arms around myself for warmth, I tip-toe through the hallways, heading to the place I’ve been avoiding.
He might be out. He might be there. I’m bracing for either option.
The basement door cracks loudly, so if he is here, my arrival’s been announced. The light is on, and with one foot on the top step, this is my chance to bolt or to face him.
I walk down the stairs.
