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I thought it was all swagger.
It wasn’t.
17
Nastasia
My stomach knotted sometime around nine and hadn’t untangled since.
Viktor hadn’t shown for work. Sasha was pissed. Anika was quiet.
Me?
I was concerned.
And while Sasha had a few unique descriptors to utter about the situation, he turned his anger on Anika.
“Where is he?” he bit out, and Anika shrank in on herself.
“I don’t know.”
It didn’t sound like a lie, but there was an underlying deception in there somewhere. Anika knew more than what she was telling. I knew this for a certainty when she refused to look at him.
My brother’s eyes blazed. “Why isn’t he answering his phone, Anika?”
Lev frowned at Sasha, his brow lowering. “Easy.” At the very same time, Mina’s expression soured as she bit out, “How about you watch your tone?”
But, rare as it was, Sasha let his irritation take over. He stepped close, forcing a wide-eyed Anika to take a step back, and when she bumped into the bar, he spoke low. “If something happens to him and you held your tongue….” He let the threat fade out, but his meaning was clear.
Hearing that, my brows bunched. “What is that supposed to mean?” I twisted to face Anika and repeated myself, my pitch higher than before. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Anika stood by in silence, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, and Sasha’s lip curled as his gaze washed over her. “So be it.”
My brother turned and stalked away, but the moment he was out of sight, Anika let out a shaking breath, and her face crumbled. I went to my friend immediately. I placed a consoling hand to her upper arm and bent to look her in the eye. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” She looked around, panicked, and her breathing hitched. “It’s not okay, Nastasia.”
Oh no.
My gut sank.
What was going on? Was Vik in some kind of trouble?
“Ani.” I reached down and took her hands in mine, squeezing gently. “I need to you talk to me, babe. Is Vik all right?”
“I don’t know,” she breathed out, and I felt her hands tremble. Eyes wide, she lowered her face and spoke seemingly to herself, “He should have called by now. He was supposed to call.”
“Where did he go?” I asked as calmly as possible, even though my insides were a mess.
Her eyes faraway, she muttered, “He wouldn’t tell me the details, just that he had to go.” She blinked up at me as if seeing me for the first time, her fear apparent. “Why didn’t I ask more questions? Why did I let him go?”
And because those questions were valid and equally frightening, I chose to ignore them completely and instead spare a small smile for my friend while lying through my teeth. “You know, he probably just lost track of time or something.” Anika’s grip on my hand tightened as though holding onto the lifeline I offered. So, I went on. “I’m not worried. He’s been looking after us since we were kids. He can take care of himself.”
But as I pasted on a smile, my gut sank deeply.
“Yeah,” she uttered with creased brows, her voice quaking. “He can.”
I forced that wide smile and released one of her hands to cup her cheek. “He just lost track of time.”
She nodded quickly, anxiously. “Right.”
“He’ll turn up,” I assured her.
“He will,” she uttered quietly through a frown.
And a little past 3:00 a.m., he did.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my knee bouncing wildly, holding my cell in one hand while biting the thumbnail of my free hand.
Eyes wide, I tried once more, dialing the number only to have the prerecorded woman say, “The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.”
Once more.
Over and over.
Again and again, I tried, but there was no getting through.
I don’t know how long I sat there in the lamplight, but the sound of a car approaching had my head lifting. A flash of lights flooded my windows, and I stood. Rushing over on bare feet, I peered down from the window to frown at the unknown silver sedan. That frown deepened when I watched him climb out, shut the door quietly, and approach my front door, holding his ribs.
My heart picked up in pace.
Holding onto the railing with sweaty palms, I flew down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and before he even had a chance to use the keys dangling from his fingers, I swung the door open, blinked up at his moonlit form, and cried, “Jesus Christ. Do you even know how worried everyone has been?” How worried I’ve been? “What are you doing here?”
Darkness hid him well, but that didn’t stop me from observing the shadows on his face deepening, and as he let out a strained sigh, his shoulders slumped. His rough response lit up my every nerve ending. “I don’t know. I just started driving, and the next thing I knew, here I was.”
