Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Like she’s admitting something to herself when she gives it.
I claim a soft kiss from her lips. The kind without tongue that moves across the surface and squeezes at the end.
She lets out another tiny, pained cry.
My tenderness wounds her again.
I intend to keep wounding her this way. Showing her kindness. Offering my presence. Maybe eventually, she’ll learn to take it without it hurting.
Chapter Thirteen
Kira
After we shower, Maykl lets me put on some clothes. He has me uncuffed but keeps me within grabbing distance.
“I picked up your sister’s ashes,” he tells me.
The sensation of a swallowed stone in my stomach that I always have when I think of Anya returns. “Oh.” I can’t think of anything to say. “Where are they?”
He points to the cardboard cylinder on his desk.
I walk over and open the lid then quickly replace it. I’m not squeamish, but something about knowing what’s inside creeps me out.
“Do you…want to keep them? Or scatter them as a farewell?”
I look out Maykl’s giant windows toward the lake.
“Maybe…scatter them. Out there. Leave her to Chicago.”
He nods. “I’ll arrange it.” He pulls out his phone to text something.
I can’t help it. I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his sturdy trunk and squeezing hard.
It’s hard to fathom why he’s being so kind. What he could possibly hope to gain by carrying me through this.
He kisses the top of my head. A message comes through on his phone, which he checks and then pockets. “Get your boots and coat. We’re going now.”
“To the lake?” I blink in surprise.
“Yes.”
“I can go out? I mean, we’re going out to the lake?” I’m having a hard time assimilating this fact. That I could go from prisoner to pampered in just the blink of an eye.
“Even in war, there’s time given to bury the dead.”
“Are we at war?” I ask. Because I no longer want to be.
I want to find some way out of this situation that leaves us both on the same side. But is that even possible?
He tilts his head. “We are until we aren’t anymore. Go and put on your boots.”
I mull over his words as I pull on my boots and coat. When I return, he hands me the ashes then shows me the screen of his phone.
I gasp. Mika.
All grown up. I don’t know how I even recognize him, except the family resemblance is there. He looks like my sister.
“In case you need an incentive not to give me trouble.” I think I catch a tinge of regret in Maykl’s face as he makes the threat.
My eyes water and I press my lips together and nod. “He’s safe?”
“He’s fine. I’m not threatening his safety. I’m telling you to be good, so you can see him.”
I bob my head, still overcome with emotion. The relief that he’s actually been found–that he’s still alive and Maykl knows where–makes me want to drop to my knees and praise a god I don’t even believe in.
Maykl sees my emotion and loops an arm around me to lead me to the door. Outside stand two battle-faced bratva soldiers. I absorb that information. I’ve had additional guards at the door this whole time.
For some reason, it doesn’t daunt me. I don’t feel as concerned about making an escape.
We are until we aren’t anymore.
There’s a riddle in there. Something to work out. Some clue about what he’s planning for me.
“Follow us,” Maykl commands, and the guards tag along into the elevator. Someone else sits behind Maykl’s desk. An older man but clearly still bratva based on the tattoos that extend beyond his sleeves and across the backs of his hands.
Maykl keeps his arm around me. I’m sure it’s to keep me close, to make sure I don’t run, but it also feels protective. Comforting, even.
He leads me out to the sidewalk toward the lake. As we pass by the window of the building, I hear a knock and Kat gives me a friendly wave from her studio.
I smile back because it’s impossible not to return the friendliness.
It’s cold out, and I tighten the jacket around me as we walk into the wind. Maykl leads me to the end of a dock. I stand and stare out at the water for a long time. It’s a dark blue. The sky is grey to match the occasion.
Maykl doesn’t hurry me. Or lead. He just stands beside me, his hulk and strength giving me a pillar to lean into.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” I open the lid of the ashes container and unceremoniously dump the whole thing. No scattering. Just a straight pour.
“May the earth be soft for her.” Maykl speaks the traditional Russian saying.
“Except she’s in water,” I say. I start to laugh. It’s a hysterical kind of laugh. The sort that could just as easily turn to tears. In fact, some tears do stream down my cheeks as I knock into Maykl’s solid form, rocking on my feet with hysteria.