Page 134 of Devotion

And I leap from the flying car, soaring over the glittering waters of the Atlantic, leaving a sparkling trail of our lust. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss right before we hit the water and tumble apart.

Sputtering and splashing, I find my bearings, trying to hold up my pants. Vanya surfaces, grinning ear to ear.

Even more so when we look up to find several faces looking down on us over the side of the boat, eyes wide, jaws dropped. One man, presumably the captain, rushes to the railing, shouting in another language.

Raining her gun out of the water, Vanya waves at him. “Do you speak English?”

“A bit…”

“If you will take us to the nearest foreign port, I will wire you ten thousand American dollars. Or I can kill you and take boat,da?” Holy shit this woman is amazing.

The man nods, throwing us a life preserver.

“Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

25

VANYA

The flight back to St. Petersburg feels like an eternity.

All of the adrenaline of the chase is long gone. The reality of our folly in going to Morocco eating at me every step of the way. The reality that my lover’s brother killed mine.

I am a dog with her tail between her legs.

My soul shattered in pieces.

Going home to a city I left in shambles. Occupied by an enemy force. I failed my people.

And I am so angry. At Pyotr, at Adil Abas, at Ero Diamante. At Matvey.

Most of all, myself.

The boat dropped us at a random port in Spain where we purchased passage through Europe by train, bus. Any way we could to avoid being traced by Fiero.

I know Ciro feels the same as I do.

But he keeps it hidden behind jokes, smiles. He is strong for me. He knows the demons I battle with and that there is no way to help. Not anytime soon.

Defeat grows inside me. I must not let it poison me, because we have work to do when we get home.

Yet I feel so hopeless.

We have not had contact since we left. And we dare not risk it until we know the situation back home. Which makes my fears and anxieties worse.

What will we find in St. Petersburg?

Where did Pyotr go?

But the closer we get to home, the more determined I become.

We must rebuild. We must find the survivors. We must figure out how to drive the Mocro out.

Most of all, we must find my uncle. I pray he will know what must be done.

Yet I cannot fathom how he did not prepare for or prevent the attack.

“Van. Look.” Ciro shakes me gently.

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