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“Why do you look so afraid?” he asks me.
In a fierce, sudden motion, I hug him as hard as possible. Not just because I ache to feel him one more time, though I do, but because I can’t let him see my face. He might read through me. As much as I want to tell him the truth about Ruslan, the fear isn’t enough to shatter the chains around my heart.
“How can I not be scared? You’re heading off alone into a situation where you could die!”
“I won’t,” he promises into my hair, kissing my temple. “I came back before. I will come back again. This time, with your mother at my side.”
I want to believe him. It’s the only reason I let him go, allowing him to slip away. Through the front window, I stare as his Escalade swerves off into the ink-washed grays of the horizon. It’s darker than it should be at this time of twilight. There are no stars breaking through the dark, heavy clouds pregnant with snow. Stale air makes my skin go tight and my hair prickle and tremble. If it weren’t for the yellow lamp lights perched around the house and throughout the large yard, I wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
Chewing my thumbnail, I walk to one side of the foyer. The wall blocks me; I turn on my heel, going the other way. The large room has become too small. I’m suffocating as I move, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage.
Why did I let him leave? Because I need my mother safe. But what if she’s not there? She has to be. What if she isn’t?
No.
But if she is ... then so is Yevgeniy ...
And Ruslan …
What will Arsen do when my secret is exposed without warning?
“You shouldn’t fret so much,” Ulyana says, startling me. “It’s bad for the baby.”
I jerk my eyes toward her. She’s snuck up on me, standing by the bottom of the stairs. She’s always been so good at surprising me. Maybe she should have become an assassin.
“Ulyana,” I say, leaving it at that.
She considers me with her eyes half-lidded. “It doesn’t get easier.”
I do a double take. “What doesn’t?”
“Waiting for him to come back alive.”
Ripples of fetid fear work through my muscles. Clamping my hands over my stomach, I bend in two with a groan. I’m not in pain—not literal pain, at least. This sensation is a deep-rooted terror not unlike the floating sensation before a huge fall. The world below me is vanishing. The idea of Arsen not being in it makes me plummet.
“Galina! What’s wrong?” Ulyana holds my shoulders, keeping me steady. I hadn’t noticed I was collapsing until she kept me from hitting the floor.
Bracing my hand on a nearby table, I push myself up on unsteady ankles. “Ulyana … I … I need to tell you something, but I’m worried I can’t.”
Ulyana holds up her hand against my lips to stop me. Slowly, she gestures at my wrist and my eyes follow her hand until I’m looking at the prayer beads. Ulyana makes a gesture at me to look at them closely. And that’s when I notice it.
There’s a single bead that isn’t polished wood, but lacquered plastic.
I look back at Ulyana, and she nods as she mouths the words, He’s listening.
A bone-chilling cold seeps through my body as I stand there. I feel like I'm seeing myself from a distance. I’m a human being! You aren’t supposed to track humans like this.
Has he always been listening? Or is this something new? And when did he do this?
And that’s when I remember.
He took them from me after they were stained with his blood.
Hurriedly, I tear them off, and toss them across the room. But as soon as the beads leave my wrist, their missing familiar weight on my wrist nearly sends me rushing after them. It takes a remarkable amount of strength for me not to. I can’t risk Arsen listening in on this.
I’ll put them on later.
She stares hard into my eyes. “You’ve had a lot of moments like this with me lately.”
