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Her room smelled like strawberry shampoo and the lavender spray Miss Helen used on the pillows. One book remained open on the rug where Nora had abandoned it. The stuffed animal she’d carried from home was gone, which meant Alina had allowed her to take something comforting.

Miss Helen waited beside the window with both hands wrapped around the strap of her carpet bag. She’d changed out of her nightclothes, and the sight of us brought her upright. “I should’ve known.” Her chin quivered as she met my eyes. “She hugged me differently.”

I wrapped both arms around her. “You thought she was me.”

“I thought you were shaken from the casino and trying not to let Nora notice. She kept her face against my shoulder and told me to take an hour.” Miss Helen’s arms finally closed around me, the bag dropping to her feet. “I’m so sorry, Anika.”

I covered her hands with mine. “You tell Roman every detail, but you don’t get to punish yourself. There’s enough of that going around.”

I squeezed her again, then walked around the room, taking in the thrown-back covers. Something glittered beside the pillow, and I bent to pull it free. “Maksim.”

He was at my side in an instant, taking the black-and-red masquerade mask from my hand and lifting it by one ribbon. The edge was worn, and one crystal near the left eye had loosened.

“That’s mine.” I recognized the tiny smudge of gold paint from the night Alina had put it over my face. “You showed it to me yesterday.”

“It was in my desk.” Maksim’s quiet voice carried more threat than shouting. “She entered my office before coming here.”

I tossed the pillows aside, then the blanket. The mask was a clue, but of what? Once I’d ripped everything off the bed, I turned to the bookcase. “She wants us thinking about the masquerade. Why?” A white origami crane perched on top of a stack of books, and I lunged for it. “This wasn’t here before.” I snapped the crane off the shelf and examined it. A tiny arrow beneath one wing made my hands tremble, and I unfolded it piece by piece. Inside, where no one would see unless they did as I had, were three words. Trust me. Please.

21

MAKSIM

One command would put four hundred armed men on Sokolov’s streets before he finished his breakfast.

The words were right there, locked and loaded. I could lock down the harbor, tear through the casino, and drag every man connected to Sokolov out of his bed until someone told us where he’d taken the children. Weeks ago, I would’ve given the order before anyone had time to object.

Now a paper crane rested in the center of the table, its narrow wings spread over Roman’s map, and all I could see was Nora caught in the first exchange of gunfire. Alina’s son faced the same danger, and I’d get fucked by one of Anika’s fuckity fuck dump trucks before I let that happen. Overwhelming force would satisfy every violent instinct inside me, but it wouldn’t solve our problem.

“No assault.” I forced my hands to relax against the back of the chair. “Surveillance stays in place, but no one crosses into Sokolov’s territory until we know where both children are.”

Kirill stared at the crane, impatience rolling through every shift of his shoulders. “I could take a small team into the casino without disturbing the neighborhood.”

“You consider thirty men small.” Roman rotated his laptop so the screen faced the rest of us. “Sokolov will notice when they start killing his guards.”

Kirill spread his hands. “Eventually.”

Anika stood at the end of the table with both arms wrapped around herself. Her attention moved between the three of us as if she expected the disagreement to become a fight. I understood why. Men like us didn’t build empires by accepting obstacles or allowing anyone else to dictate our response.

I pinched the bridge of my nose to calm the anger surging through my blood, turning my vision red around the edges. When I had it under control, I nodded at Roman. “What do you need?”

Kirill stopped pacing, then pulled out a chair and sat. Roman enlarged three photographs of the crane, showing us the wings, the base, and the fold that opened along its underside.

“Time.” Roman indicated the left wing. “This isn’t a common origami pattern. The tip folds inward twice before locking beneath the body. It makes the crane sturdy enough to hang from a string without opening.”

Anika moved closer. “Alina and I used to make those.”

Roman tapped the photograph of the left wing, zooming in on minute details. “Where?”

“Saint Agnes Children’s Hospital. Mom signed us up for the summer volunteer program when we were sixteen.” She rubbed the silver ring on her finger while she studied the paper. “We folded cranes with the patients and hung them from the ceiling. The hospital called them wishes.”

Roman’s fingers flew over the keys. Seconds later, a picture of hundreds of paper birds hanging from fishing line filled the screen. Two teenage girls stood beneath the sky of cranes wearing blue volunteer smocks. Anika smiled directly at the camera while Alina held a crane over one eye.

Leaning forward, Roman read the caption out loud.“The ‘wishing’ crane program is meant to encourage young adults to spend time with hospitalized children, bringing them all together to create origami cranes.” He ran another search, then sat back. “Only Saint Agnes used this sequence of folds. The hospital replaced the program twelve years ago.”

Kirill leaned over the screen. “Anika, your paper bird wants to go home.”

Roman closed the irrelevant windows, then clicked his way through yet another program. A humming noise sounded from the laptop, followed by Roman’s grunt. He swiveled to face Anika. “There’s a storage locker in the old volunteer annex that’s rented under her legal name.”