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It wasn’t enough, though. It never is.
There’s a worn dresser on the other end of the sparsely furnished bedroom, and I stumble over to it, fumbling in the top drawer for a pair of clean panties. I drag the black cotton boyshorts over my hips, yanking out a clean, loose black tank top with a small pocket above the breast, and throw it over my head. I’m small-breasted enough to not bother with a bra, and most days, I don’t, opting for loose enough clothing that it doesn’t matter.
A pair of straight-cut black jeans, worn combat boots from a charity shop, my hair loosely gathered at the back of my head, and I’m ready to meet Ruby. Looking in the mirror, I feel certain that even someone who knew me once would have a hard time recognizing me now.
It’s not just the hair. It hasn’t been all that long, but I look older.Harder. There was a lightness in my face before that I can see has been extinguished. I can see lingering bitterness there, instead.
I should be in Santorini, laying in a bikini on the beach while a handsome green-eyed Greek man feeds me grapes. Or in Paris,walking down cobblestoned streets. Browsing a museum in London. Sitting on the deck of his yacht.
What the fuck was wrong with you, Adrian?
I grit my teeth, shaking away the memories. They’re no good now. I don’t want to recall how good it was before the fight, either. I don’t want to remember when I thought I had a chance at something beyond the life I resigned myself to. Now I’ve fallen into a pit of despair, and the only way out is to claw my way up and envision something entirely new.
It feels exhausting.
Please don’t let there be anything new under my door today.I don’t know if I can handle another threatening letter.
I let out a sigh of relief when I step into my kitchen and see that there’s nothing by the door. “Thankfuck,” I whisper as I open it, stepping outside, but as I reach behind myself to pull the front door shut, something swings against my hand.
I spin around sharply, reaching for it.
A thin gold chain, the length of a bracelet, hanging from the doorknob. On it dangles a tiny charm, and when I slip it off the doorknob and hold it up for inspection, my heart pounding in my chest, I see a small phoenix.
My heart stops in my chest.
Rebirth. Rising from the ashes. Something that disappears and returns.
It’s a message, but not one I want. It means whoever left it knows too much about me. Too much about where I’ve been–and what I’ve done.
I clutch it in my fist, feeling a tremor ripple through me as I shove it into my pocket. My thoughts immediately go back to my father’s compound, to the men I helped find their way down there, in search of my half-sister.
Sasha Federova. Maximilian Agosti. Levin Volkov.
What if I’m their loose end?
I can’t imagine my sweet sister would have a hand in this. I’ve never been a trusting person by nature, but I also think I’m someone who’s good at reading others. Sasha isn’t cruel or vicious, and she isn’t someone who would worry about loose ends. I also can’t imagine what reason she would have for wanting me gone. She played a very small part in my father’s death, and he was the only person she had left to fear, as far as I know.
As for Max and Levin–
I clench my jaw, trying to puzzle it out as I walk.Would they have a real reason?To keep me silent about what I know? What I helped them do?
I don’t think so. Even if they wanted me dead, which I don’t believe, neither man seemed the type to dothis. Levin would look me in the eyes while putting a bullet through my brain. Max–well, I was honestly surprised that Max had that kind of violence in him, even when my father threatened the woman he loved.
It’s not one of them.But who is it?
It’s all I can think about as I walk. Even in the bright sunlight of the mid-morning, I feel like I’m being followed, watched. I feel shivery and uneasy, the fear of the footsteps behind me last nightand the eerieness of my dream lingering around me. I have the same urge I had last night–to go home and crawl back into my bed.
But I can’t stay there forever, and Ruby will take my mind off things.
She’s at the small, shabby cafe that she asked me to meet her at, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, a china plate of a different pattern than the cup set in front of her with a small stack of breakfast bread. She sees me the second I step through the door, half-rising to wave me over, and the excitement on her face makes me glad that I crawled out of bed.
“You look like you just woke up,” she says in a teasing, accusatory tone. “If Igor could see you now….”
“He’d probably think I’m actually sick.” I look at the menu, suddenly eager for something hot and caffeinated. “I look like this because Ididjust roll out of bed.”
“I did, too,” Ruby confesses as the waitress brings me hazelnut coffee. “I actually thought I was going to be late. I worked–” she yawns, widely enough to pop her jaw, “–until the club closed last night.”
“We could have taken a raincheck on this.” The coffee tastes burnt, but I’m exhausted enough that I don’t really care. The banana bread that I took off of the plate between us is good, sweet and nutty, and I take another bite of that to offset the taste of burnt coffee. “I could have used the extra rest, too.”
