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Konstantin, Niki, and Cyrille converge around the two of us. “How the fuck did you survive that?” my cousin asks in amazement.
“The panic room,” I tell them simply. “I had it installed in Paige’s office months ago. I wanted to make sure she was safe if he ever happened to drop a bomb on us. Turned out to be my salvation, not hers. I hunkered down in there until I heard voices. One of the firefighters nearly had a conniption when I walked out of that room.”
Konstantin claps me hard on the back. He’s beaming from ear to ear and his relief is palpable. “Motherfucker,” he says again and again. “You crazy motherfucker.”
“Looks like you won’t have to take over for me,” I chuckle.
“Thank God for that.”
I turn to the women in my family. “None of you are supposed to be here.”
“We don’t take orders from you, Misha,” Niki says, her eyes narrowed. “Pakhan or not.”
“No wonder Paige fits in so well with you. She doesn’t know about this, does she?”
“No, not yet,” Cyrille says guiltily.
“Let’s get back to the mansion right now. And someone get me a phone. I left mine inside.”
Konstantin hands me his phone. I’m about to dial Paige’s number when her name pops up on the screen first.
“Fuck.” I answer the call. “Paige!”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before her voice rasps through the line. “Misha?”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m fine. Everything here is okay, so don’t worry about—”
“Misha, I think… I think someone’s in the house,” she whispers. “I hit the panic button a few times, but security hasn’t shown up. The power went out a few minutes ago. Misha, I’m scared.”
For as hot as I was a minute ago, my veins are ice now. Dread pools inside of me.
The fire wasn’t meant to kill me; it was just a distraction.
Petyr had his sights set on Paige this whole time.
77
PAIGE
FORTY MINUTES EARLIER
I’m three episodes into some reality television show about couples trapped in submarines together when I hear a thud from somewhere upstairs.
I jolt, my body on high alert at even the most subtle of noises. “It’s probably just Rada,” I whisper to myself.
The theater has no windows. The walls are black and so is the furniture. The black leather sofas seem to absorb all the light in the room. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m alone.
“Don’t be silly.”
I push away my doubts and turn up the volume. It’s hard to feel threatened when you’re watching ridiculous reality TV. And it doesn’t get much more ridiculous than this couple trying to make a lasagna on a single hot plate while they’re twenty thousand leagues under the sea.
Then the power goes out.
The room is plunged into darkness, and I slip out of my seat onto my knees. My heart is hammering. I look over my shoulder and see nothing but endless black.
There’s only one door in and out of here. I would definitely have seen it open.
“Calm down, Paige,” I tell myself. “Your imagination is running wild, that’s all.”
