Page 104 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

“That’s exactly what I am.”

“No.” His hand moves up my side and stops under my ribs. “You’re the one deciding what they lose.”

My hand comes up and catches his wrist. I hold it there. He goes still, fighting himself for one rough second. He leans in, then stops close enough that I feel his breath.

“After tomorrow,” he says, straightening, “this ends.”

“After tomorrow,” I say.

His mouth comes close to mine, then stops. He pulls back, turns, walks to the window and back again, not settling anywhere. I watch him, his shoulders tight. His hands flex once and go still.

“No one else decides what you are.” His voice turns firm, and he grips my chin, making me look at him. “They don’t get a say. We do.”

I don’t answer. I believe him. I move to the bed and sit at the edge, hands on my thighs, pulse still off.

“You need to sleep,” he says.

“So do you.”

“I will.”

We both know he won’t. I lie down on my side, facing him. He stays where he is, watching me.

“Tomorrow,” I say.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats.

I close my eyes, then open them. He hasn’t moved.

“Come here.”

He pauses, then crosses the room and sits beside me. I reach for his hand and lace my fingers through his. He tightens his grip once. We stay like that. I close my eyes again.

Tomorrow decides it.

Either I walk out of that meeting on my feet, or I don’t walk out at all.

31

ELENA

The old rail exchange sits off a service road with its front lights off and its windows dark. Brick walls. Steel doors. Cameras tucked high under the ledges. From the street, it looks closed.

Our car stops at the guarded entry. A man checks the hood, the undercarriage, and the trunk, then steps back when Dima rolls down his window and says something too soft for me to catch.

Maksim sits beside me in the back, his hand over mine. He hasn’t let go since we turned off the main road.

“Last chance,” he says.

I look at the building. “To run?”

“To stay behind.”

I turn then. He wears a black suit, his face is set, and his hand stays warm over mine.

“You know I can’t.”

His thumb presses once against my knuckles. “I know.”