Page 78 of Godless Saints

My mouth went dry.

Misha exhaled. “For the record, I hate that I agree with him.”

I said nothing. There was nothing left that wouldn’t prove them right.

What the Lovchys wanted, I obeyed.

Technically.

I didn’t go near Aster. Didn’t text him. Didn’t break into his room in the middle of the night, throw him over my shoulder, and take him somewhere no one would ever find him. Every day without him felt like withdrawal.

Breakfast ended. I rolled the bike past the Thorn gate by hand, engine off. The second the front wheel cleared the stone arch, I swung my leg over and reached for the key.

Footsteps crashed behind me.

“Cillian!”

Misha grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked hard enough to nearly pull me off the bike. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

I shrugged him off. “Ride.”

“Bullshit.” Misha stepped in front of the bike, breathing hard, hands spread. Idiot thought he could stop me. “You’re going to Aster. You’re going to him.”

My hands flexed on the grips. “Let go.”

“No.” His chest heaved. “You can’t. Not right now.”

Misha wasn’t smiling.

My heartbeat lurched. Aleksei’s warning from weeks ago slammed back in.

The stand snapped down. I steadied the bike. I wasn’t fucking going anywhere with that look on his face. I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck happened with your grandfather, Misha?”

Misha’s face shut down too fast. “What?”

I stepped closer, crowding him. “You’ve been off for weeks. I don’t like it. So fucking tell me.”

He laughed, but it came out forced. “Shit… I need to be more careful. Can’t afford to get dragged into your mess right now.” He cut himself off, breathing hard. “Grandfather’s been watching me like a fucking hawk. One more misstep and…” He stopped.

Misha exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… be careful with Moon, yeah? The shit you two are doing isn’t flying under the radar anymore. People are noticing.”

I looked past him toward the old oak by the cloister.

“Come on,” I said.

Misha’s mouth twitched. “Where?”

“Over there.”

I walked to the oak and dropped down against the trunk before I let myself look at Aster again. Rough bark. Cold damp ground. One look and I’d be back on that bike.

Misha dropped down across from me. His fingers went straight for a flower in the grass and started tearing it apart petal by petal.

I leaned back against the trunk. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Misha.”