AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her wide blue eyes flash in my mind, the shock and horror on her face when she saw me pointing my gun at Sergio. The fear.
I never want her to look at me that way.
And now, I don’t know that she’ll ever look at me the same way she used to.
I suppose that’s not the most pressing matter. My life is in Alina’s hands now, and after our conversation in her bedroom, I’m not entirely sure she’ll want to keep what I did a secret. She very well might feel the need to tell her father, which would sign my death warrant.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention to scrubbing my body clean of the evidence that I killed someone—multiple people—tonight. I can’t worry about what Alina does because regardless of her decision, my plan remains the same.
I will face the consequences of my actions.
And live with whatever Alina decides.
Though the water’s grown warmer and steam fills the small, enclosed space, I don’t linger in the shower. As soon as I’m clean, I shut off the water and grab my towel from where it hangs.
Giving my hair a quick scrub, I towel it dry before wrapping the beige terry cloth around my waist. Then I step back into my one-room flat, releasing the steam that’s built up in my bathroom.
I comb my hair back from my eyes, knowing full well that it’ll do whatever the hell it pleases by the time it’s dry. Then I head toward my dresser for a fresh pair of boxers.
My eyebrows buckle into a frown as a strange sense raises the hair on the back of my neck. I look around, searching for a reason behind my tingling intuition.
Someone’s been in my apartment.
I was so distracted when I came in, I didn’t notice. But now, I’m almost certain of it. Only, as I look around, I can’t exactly say why. Everything looks like it’s exactly where I left it—the bed’s made, the kitchen’s in perfect order. No clothes have been haphazardly tossed about in their drawers.
I can’t think of a single thing that’s missing, and no evidence was left behind to confirm my suspicion. Still, I feel it—like a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head.
My phone rings, making my shoulders bunch, and I’m tense enough that I almost jump.
Huffing impatiently at my skittish response, I snatch my phone up from the bathroom sink and glance at the caller ID.
“Da?” I answer, bracing for another job that’s going to keep me out until all ungodly hours of the night.
“Mishka, get dressed, we’re going out to celebrate,” Viktor states, the noise in the background warning me that the party’s already started on his end.
“Celebrate?” I ask. Tonight feels the furthest thing from a celebration. Though at least Viktor’s tone would indicate she hasn’t said anything to him about what she saw—and he’s not suspicious about the interaction he saw between me and Alina in the cigar room.
“Yeah, brother. We finally caught the bastards who nearly killed us all. We made them pay. And after the message Malik and Kristof will be making with their remains, I’d say we deserve a bit of celebration because no one’s going to be screwing with the Sakharov clan anytime soon.”
An image of five heads decorating one of the statues in the Boston Common fills my mind, and I shove it into the deep, dark pit that has become my soul.
“Be ready in ten. We’re swinging by to pick you up,” Viktor commands.
It’s not an invite. It’s an obligation.
I bite back a sigh. I don’t particularly feel like celebrating. I just participated in the torture and murder of men just like me—men who want to take down the Sakharov family.
But saying no will only raise suspicion.
And right now, I look guilty enough as it is.
“I’ll see you in ten,” I confirm.
Thoughts of an intruder flee my mind as I focus on disposing of my soiled clothes, then I don a new outfit suitable for the club. And though I’m dog tired and ready to sink into oblivion, I brace myself for what is probably going to be a long and wild night. Because knowing Viktor, “celebrate” means plenty of alcohol, girls, and drugs.
Which means putting on another kind of show to avoid raising suspicion about anything going on between me and his sister. It feels like that’s all I’ve been doing lately—pretending to be something other than who I am.
I hate it.
