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Kreshnik shakes his head at Sergey, and the two men lead me silently into the hotel.
We walk down cinderblock halls with exposed pipes running along the ceiling, far from anywhere a guest might wander. We turn into a kind of storage room. Metal shelves line the walls. An artificial Christmas tree broken down into three massive sections hulks in the corner, covered in a large drop cloth. Two chairs sit in the middle of the space.
Sergey pushes me towards them. “Sit.”
“Who else is coming?” I ask.
Kreshnik jerks his arm towards the chair, growing impatient. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to. Sit down and do as you’re told.”
“And what? You’ll spare me?” I snort. “Don’t pretend I’ll get a gold star for following orders. You’re going to kill me either way.”
Kreshnik stalks towards me slowly. “You’re right. I am going to kill you.”
I stand as tall as I can. It’s hard to feel powerful in a thin t-shirt and nothing else, but I refuse to die as a coward. “Then fuck you.”
“Ah-ah,” he warns with a wag of his finger. “You’re being selfish, dear. Your behavior won’t just reflect on you. It will be a reflection of the entire class. Everyone will suffer.”
I look around the obviously empty room. “No one else is here.”
“Not yet. But they will be.”
My heart is in my throat. I have to clear it twice before I can voice the question. “Who?”
His smirk is lethal. “As I said, don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“Timofey won’t fall into your trap.” I’m saying it mostly to convince myself. To ease the panic clawing at my insides.
“You don’t think so?”
“No, I don’t. He’s smarter than you. He won’t fall for it.”
Kreshnik pushes me down into the chair and leans in until his cruel face is all I can see. “He already has.”
I shake my head, even as his words drip like cold water down my spine. “If you think Timofey will throw away his entire Bratva for me, you’re wrong. I won’t let him.”
“Don’t underestimate your appeal.” Kreshnik steps back and eyes me from head to toe. “Men have thrown away everything for less. But I’m also not the type to put all of my eggs in one basket. I have a back-up plan.”
I’m about to ask what he means when I hear a sound. A soft whimper coming from the corner near the Christmas tree.
Is Timofey tied up beneath the drop cloth?
I search the tree, looking for signs of movement. All of my senses are heightened, my body in tune to every movement and sound.
Then I see it.
A basket on the floor. It’s wicker, so it blends into the shadows. The blanket inside matches the drop cloth, a pale cream color. But it’s… moving.
“What is—”
“Men will do a lot to avoid seeing their family murdered before their eyes,” Kreshnik says, strolling over to the basket. He reaches down and plucks a bundle out, taking it into his arms.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
He turns to me, and I can see Benjamin. Swaddled and perfect.
He’s alive.
My hope wasn’t misplaced. He’s alive and breathing. Benjamin is alive.
