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“Don’t listen to him, Arsen,” Mila says. She’s coated in blood from her chin to her ankles. Behind her is a parade of corpses. No one is alive but us three. Crouching beside Sergei, she lines the edge of her knife up with his chin. “He’ll say anything to save his own skin.”
“No!” he argues, eyes bulging like boiled eggs. He attempts to sit up, but Mila pushes the blade into his jaw, drawing a bead of ruby-red blood. He flinches, returning his eyes to me. I’m the one he has to convince if he wants to live.
“Please, Arsen Kirilovich. Believe me. I know where she is.”
I lift my gun away from his skin. He visibly relaxes while Mila scowls at me. “How?”
“We have a spy.” He licks his lips once, twice. “He works in the office of Josh Sanders. That’s the lawyer who’s married to Galina Yevgeniyevna’s best friend. We know the exact spot they’ve hidden her away.”
At first my mood soars—with this info, I can see Galina again. But my joy turns to ash a second later. This means Yevgeniy knows where she is as well. I can’t ignore this information. If I do, he’ll get her before I can. “You’ll take us there,” I tell him firmly.
“Arsen, this is clearly a trap,” Mila hisses.
Placing my knee on Sergei’s chest, I transfer all my weight there. He groans under the pressure that threatens to crack his ribs. “If you’re lying, I won’t simply put a bullet in your skull.” Tracing the barrel of my gun down his cheek, I shove it under his chin, pushing Mila’s knife away to do so. Sergei swallows nervously, and I feel it through my weapon. “I will take my time over several weeks. You’ll suffer in pure agony until I’m finally satisfied, and trust me … I am not easily satisfied.”
“I understand,” he wheezes.
Tucking my gun into its sheath, I stand up. Mila watches me with disapproval. “You’re an idiot,” she whispers, so Sergei can’t hear. At least she has the grace to keep her insults between us. “You actually plan to go to this place?”
I survey the carnage in the building. “Yevgeniy will be furious when he finds out what we’ve done. I have to do whatever I can to try and get Galina away from him before it’s too late.”
“You’re risking your life.”
“I know.” The smile I offer Mila is a solemn one. “You don’t have to come with me.”
Shaking her head angrily, she waves her arm over the pile of bodies we’ve created.
“Idiot. All these men hurt me in some way. Getting to return the favor was the best gift you could ever have given me. As a thank you, I’m not going to let you waltz into a death trap. You’d never survive without me.”
Her words stoke a fire in my heart. All this time, she’s been indebted to me. But she has no reason to die in the name of my revenge. If anything, having gotten what she wanted, she could leave me tonight without looking back. Her loyalty is unwavering.
Mine must be the same.
Bending down, I yank Sergei up by his shirt. He stands on shaky legs.
“Take me to Galina.”
48
GALINA
“These are delicious!” I shovel the third pancake into my mouth. They’re silver-dollar size, perfect for two bites, though I’m making one work.
My mother chuckles with delight at how I devour the breakfast she’s made. “Good; you need to eat as much as possible for that baby to be healthy.”
“If that’s enough of a reason to eat a stack of these every morning, I’m game.”
That draws a full-bodied laugh from her. “Here.” She arranges five more little pancakes onto my plate. “I can make more.”
“Oh, no?—”
“Nonsense, malyshka. It won’t take long.” To prove her point, she sways over to the large blue bowl on the small counter. There’s barely enough space for the eggs and a bag of flour, but she makes it work. She’s used to having less than this.
Watching her whisk up more batter, I’m reminded of living with Arsen. I wish I could stop thinking about that time, but it’s futile. That man and his world left an impact on me. As great of a cook as Danil was, nothing beats my mother’s home cooking.
The scent of hot butter and crispy batter fills the kitchen. She sings the old Russian song that bears her namesake—Katyusha—under her breath as she works. Here and there I can hear the familiar lyrics, but the line and to the soldier on the frontier, send him Katyusha’s love, it makes my heart ache for Arsen again.
Drizzling syrup over the food, I get too rambunctious with the bottle. “Oh, come on,” I groan.
