Page 16 of Marked By His Touch

My eyes drift to the antique clock in the corner, a relic from one of Alexander’s ships, I imagine. It’s 1 a.m., and the house feels like a pressure cooker, the tension simmering beneath the surface. Alexander, Isaac, and Katerina are still up. It’s like there is a storm brewing in the stillness. Even though I’m supposed to be tired, my mind is wired. I need to sleep, but the events of the day, the encounter with the serpent-tattooed man, and the fear for Sarah keep me on edge.

Alexander sits hunched on the corner couch, a weariness etched onto his handsome face. I settle beside him, the soft cushions of the couch feeling like a misplaced luxury.

I gesture for Katerina and Isaac to join us. They take their places in two armchairs across from us.

Katerina sends the other girls off, her voice sharp: “Go sleep. Leave us alone.” The women comply without an argument. As they leave, my gaze catches on some of the new faces.

I suddenly feel a desire to protect them, to help them find a way out of this life.Maybe we can somehow get them out of this place.

“Sarah,” I say, my voice raw. “They have got Sarah. I need to help her.”

Katerina and Isaac exchange glances.

“Sarah, your programmer friend? Red hair?” Isaac asks.

“We got a message,” Alexander says, his voice rough. “From the Raven.”

Isaac’s hands clench together. “I don’t know what message you got, but Sarah is fine. We’ve been watching her. Knowing he might target her.”

My breath hitches. It’s like a dam breaking, releasing the tension I’ve held for days. “Are you sure?” I ask, my voice shaky.

Isaac nods, his eyes confirming Katerina’s statement.

“So it was just bait to get us home,” Alexander grunts.

“Why?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Revenge?”

“Perhaps,” Alexander says, his gaze flickering to the window as if searching for answers in the darkness beyond. He runs a hand over his stubble. His fingers press against his temples.

I feel the newspaper in my jacket pocket. The rain starts to fall harder, a patter against the windowpanes of the ranch house.Welcome home to the rainiest place ever,a bitter irony twisting on my tongue. I caress the paper, pulling it out.

I have a question.

I show it to Katerina. Her eyes flicker. “Where did you get that,devushka?”

“In my apartment. They ransacked it. I think someone left it there. Maybe it’s a warning or a sign.”

Katerina’s forehead creases in a furrow, her hands twisting in her lap. She scratches her graying hair, her gaze fixed on the newspaper. “This paper—many years old. Over twenty-five years older,da?”

I nod, not having noticed the date in my hurry.

“What does it mean?” I ask, “Alexander translated the headline, but I want to know what it says, every word.”

“Not interesting. Some boat off Russia coast. Shooting. Many years ago.” Katerina says, her voice firm, her gaze cold. She barely even looked at the paper. I get the feeling she knows more than she’s letting on.

“But if you just read—”

“Told you,slatka. Nothing important,” she interrupts and looks away.

I put the newspaper back in my pocket, my heart pounding.

Alexander changes the subject, “So how about Monroe? Is he still with the police force?”

Isaac shakes his head. “No, Harvey ousted him. But he’s gone. He fled the city after the arrest warrant was issued.”

“Shit,” Alexander says, running a worried hand through his tousled dark hair. He shakes his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “The Veles—it’s grown.”

This is our life now. We’re surrounded by enemies.

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