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“Thank God, you’re okay!” Charlotte exclaims as she practically throws herself at me. My sister hugs me so tight she nearly strangles the breath from my lungs. Her blotchy cheeks and red eyes tell me she’s probably been crying for a while now.
We’re in Frederick’s room. Mom sits at his bedside while Aunt Nat checks him over. His right arm and left thigh have been bandaged, but despite his obvious injuries, Frederick looks like he’s ready to hop out of bed and tear Nicolaevich a new one.
“I’mfine,” he insists. “Please stop coddling me, Mom.”
“You could have been killed!” she sobs softly. “What were you two even doing there?”
“Sandy texted me!”
I suck in a sharp breath. This again. “I told you, I didn’t—” A lightbulb suddenly goes off in my head. “Where’s your phone, Freddy?”
“In my jacket pocket.”
I find his bloody jacket thrown over a chair on the other side of his room. Fishing through his pockets, I find his phone and start scrolling through his contacts until I get to me. I open our conversation history, grey text boxes sandwiched between blue ones, studying the messages I supposedly sent.
Could we have been hacked?
It’s the only conclusion I can draw. These texts were made to look like they were sent from my phone, from my number. But without proof, what am I supposed to do? Who could be behind all this? Might it have been Andrei trying to lure my family into the fray?
My heart tells me no. No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? The man I’ve gotten to know these past few weeks wouldn’t stoop to such lows.
But my brain tells me not to be a fool. Andrei had me kidnapped, for fuck’s sake. Who’s to say what other depraved tactics he’s capable of. Just because I know the tenderness of his touch, the taste of his lips… Just because I adore the sound of his laughs and even rarer smiles… I don’t actually know him, do I?
“What time is it in New York?” I ask the room in general.
“Around five in the morning, I think,” Mom says. “Why?”
“I need to talk to Uncle Luka.”
Charlotte arches a curious brow. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I mumble as I storm out of the room. I’m more than a little relieved that my brother will be fine, but there’s too much on the line now. I have to get to the bottom of this. There’s no time to explain now that we’re at war and every second counts.
“Does Uncle Luka still have access to the city’s CCTV network?” I ask my father and uncles when I come back downstairs.
They’re all on the phone, giving orders to their subordinates. When it comes to warfare, it’s a trickle-down effect. All the commands come from on high and have to make their way down to the lieutenants, then their underlings, and the underlings under them, my words making it all the way down to the boots on the ground. There won’t be an inch of Moscow where the Nicolaeviches will be able to hide, but we must act quickly. The longer this drags on, the more we risk the police getting involved. The more we risk civilian lives.
This is between Andrei and me. It has been from the very start.
“What do you need?” Uncle Dima asks. “I can send him a quick text. I’m sure he’s up by now.”
“I’m not sure if there were any cameras outside the Barovksy, but if there’s footage, I’d like to see it. I want to get a positive ID on the guy who shot Freddy.”
“Will do, kiddo. One sec.”
I pace around the living room, doing my best to keep my breathing steady. Andrei claims this was a mistake, a misunderstanding… Someone wanted us all in the same spot at the same time. But the question remains:who?
“He says he’s looking into it,” Uncle Dima informs me. “It could take him a couple of minutes, though, so you’ll have to hang tight.”
I’m hit with another sudden wave of nausea. The pressure must be getting to me because I haven’t stopped feeling like I need to vomit for hours. Is this what an out of body experience feels like? Everything is disconnected. I’m watching everything happen two inches to the right of where my body should be, and I can’t figure out how to center myself. I wonder why the shock of the attack hasn’t worn off yet, but I sincerely hope it subsides soon.
Along with this God-awful pain in my chest whenever I think about the look of utter heartbreak in Andrei’s eyes.
Crocodile tears, I tell myself.They were nothing more than crocodile tears.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. At first, I think it might be Andrei trying to get in contact with me again—until I recall I blocked his number. I didn’t want to subject myself to his lies anymore.
