Still nothing.
White-hot fury floods through my chest, chasing away the shivers and raw despair trying to take root.
That smug asshole.
Damn him. He played me. Convinced me to snatch the bag by telling me there was nothing in it while acting anxious.
He let me think I’d won and was running away with my prize. The whole time, he had the locket somewhere else.
It could be anywhere.
No. Max didn’t play me. I played myself. The fury collapses into dread, settling in my stomach like a stone. I ruined both plans. Mine and Dimitri’s.
He’ll be so disappointed.
The thought burns worse than the cold and weighs heavier than the exhaustion. Dimitri gave me a home when I was weak and broken. He spent years and thousands upon thousands of dollars to raise me, to train me. He shaped me from a terrified child into a weapon capable of going up against Roman Kozlov’s entire criminal organization.
At the end, with the finish line in sight, he simply asked me to stay in the safe house.
And I couldn’t even do that.
I failed.
My emotions got the best of me. I let Max get under my skin in the hotel room, allowed the attraction and hatred to tangle together until I couldn’t think straight. Committed rookie mistakes. Snatched the bait. Fled when I should have verified. Assumed when I should have investigated.
Everything Dimitri taught me not to do.
I suck in a painful breath. There’s nothing to do but wait for him to get here and live with the shame, so I may as well get comfortable.
I head for the luxurious shower in my en suite bathroom that features tile walls, glass doors, mirrors everywhere, and even water-heated floors. The shower’s recessed overhead waterfall converts to rainfall. A handheld head that massages, twin misters mounted on the wall, and six water jets spaced to fit my body perfectly.
It still takes three lathers before I’m convinced I’m clean.
Worse, the chill lingers.
A bath. That’s what I really need.
I fill the tub with steaming water. My skin screams in pain as I climb in. Blood rushes into chilled flesh until warmth creeps up my body, soothing away the aches. The bruises will bloom faster now, but everything else feels so much better.
I close my eyes.
I just need to rest for a minute while I calculate exactly how ruined we are. How much this screwup will cost us…
After minutes—or maybe hours—I wake up, water sloshing as I flail.
Shit. I didn’t intend to fall asleep. How long was I out?
The bathwater’s cooled, and my skin’s begun to prune.
As I push to my feet, water trails down my back and legs. My muscles protest, my hands still burning with the aftermath of frostbite, my head pounding with dehydration and stress.
I wrap myself in a fluffy black towel.
I need some water, or some tea. Food would also be great.
Outside the bathroom, the light coming in through my bedroom windows shines differently, dim and gray with the unmistakable quality of morning slipping into evening. My neck hurts from dozing in the tub for so long.
I wander through the house, the polished concrete floors of the open living room glistening under my feet. The French doors that lead to the greenhouse stand to my right, facing east. The west wall is made of floor-to-ceiling windows that normally showcase a stunning mountain view. Now, nothing but white bleeds through the glass. Endless, oppressive white continues to fall in heavy blankets.
