Page 73 of His Contract Queen

The moment my footsteps echo across the marble floor, his head snaps up. His eyes widen as they lock onto me. His instinct immediately sends him retreating half a step behind Sasha’s shoulder like a frightened animal trying to hide behind the nearest solid object.

I snort quietly under my breath.

“I’m not in the mood to be receiving gifts,” I say dryly as I approach.

Sasha’s brows shoot upward instantly, confusion flickering across his expression. For a brief second, he genuinely looks like he has no idea what the hell I’m talking about. Then my poor attempt at humor registers.

“Human trafficking isn’t an interest of mine,” he replies flatly.

Behind him, the boy visibly shudders.

He pulls his oversized jacket tighter around himself, the movement almost instinctive as though he’s trying to disappear inside the fabric. His eyes dart nervously between the two of us, clearly unsure which of us is more dangerous. Then, he slowly inches a half-step away from Sasha.

Smart kid.

When I finally reach them, I slow to a stop a few feet away, my gaze flicking between the two of them.

“Neither am I,” I say. “Is this your attempt at pawning off one of your staff on me?” I tilt my head slightly. “Bit young to be put to work as one of my guards.”

Sasha exhales slowly through his nose, already looking mildly irritated. “He’s not one of mine. I don’t know him. He came to my place accidentally. Apparently, he was trying to come here.”

My gaze narrows slightly, jumping back to the boy. He hesitates for a second, then finally gathers enough courage to step forward from behind Sasha. His hand trembles as he extends the folded paper toward me.

“I—I was told to give this to you,” he stammers.

I look down at the letter. The moment I see the handwriting, everything inside me goes still.

For a moment, I can’t breathe.

Katerina.

The name slams through my chest like a shockwave, stealing every coherent thought from my mind. My entire body locks in place, the world narrowing down to the folded piece of paper trembling slightly in the boy’s outstretched hand and her familiar handwriting inking the front of it.

It takes a full second before my brain starts working again, and another before instinct takes over. I snatch the paper from his fingers and unfold it quickly. I don’t even attempt to hide the way my hands are shaking. The adrenaline flooding my veins is too powerful to suppress, my pulse hammering so violently, I can hear it roaring in my ears.

My eyes immediately latch onto the words.

Aleks, I’m locked in the east wing. There is an old service tunnel that leads under the house. Comes out at the bottom of the hill. Old storm cellar door. It’s red. -K

I stare at the message for a long moment, then a slow breath escapes my lungs.

She’s alive.

Alive and clear-headed enough to write this. Clever enough to find a way to smuggle a message outside a property crawling with armed guards and surveillance. Not only that, but she’s also already thinking three moves ahead, giving me a way in to extract her.

My fingers tighten slightly around the paper as a slow, dangerous smirk curls its way across my mouth before I can stop it.

Of course she has.

My wife is so incredibly clever at times.

I lift my eyes from the paper to the boy, inclining my head to him. “Thank you for delivering this to me.”

The kid visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. Up close, he looks even younger than I first thought, pale with nerves and standing stiff like he’s waiting for someone to shout at him.

He flicks his gaze back to Sasha. “I–I have to go now. They don’t know I left.”

He nods once. “The car outside will take you where you need to go. You’ll be dropped off half a mile away from the Borchin estate.”