Page 23 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

Clipboard in hand, strutting across the floor like she owned it.I saw her glance our way.Petyr didn’t notice.He was mid-joke, eyes shining with mischief.

She leaned into his ear and murmured something.

His entire face lit up.

“Oh!That’s perfect,” he said, grinning at her.

I straightened instinctively, unsure why I suddenly felt like I was intruding.

Vera turned her attention to me, smirking.“My friend Mira’s feeling lonely, so I’m staying the night with her.Like a sleepover.For grownups.”

Petyr laughed.

She added, “You two had better have fun tonight.That’s an order.”

Then she kissed Petyr on the cheek, winked, and marched away like a general satisfied with her orders.

Petyr turned to me, his grin going lopsided.“We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

I managed a nod, but my throat had gone tight.There was no map for this.No script.Just the quickening pulse in my chest and the electric hum of Petyr’s smile.

The whistle blew.

Everyone around us groaned and stretched and grumbled like tired work horses.The factory rumbled down to stillness.Men gathered their coats, filing out like ghosts.

Petyr spun to me with sudden energy.“Come on.”

Before I could react, he grabbed my arm—not roughly, just...with purpose and excitement.

“We’re going to have the best time tonight,” he said, tugging me toward the exit.

I didn’t resist.I couldn’t.

I let him pull me through the heavy factory doors and out into the raw evening air.The cold was sharp and bracing.The sky above was already dark, a blanket of ink stretching out over Leningrad.

Petyr was still holding my arm.

He didn’t seem to realize it.

Or maybe he did.

The cold air bit at my face as we hurried toward the train station, boots crunching over packed snow.Petyr was humming beside me—something upbeat and ridiculous.His hand still brushed mine now and then, casually, like it meant nothing.

Maybe it did.

I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

At the station, we caught a tram headed downtown.I’d expected it to be half-empty this late in the day.Instead, we were herded into a car packed so tightly with bodies it felt like the war had just ended and everyone in Leningrad had somewhere to be.

We barely made it through the doors before they closed behind us with a hiss.

There were no seats left, only standing room.We were wedged shoulder to shoulder, coat to coat, chest to back and side to side with dozens of strangers.But all I felt was him.Petyr, right beside me, crushed so close I could feel his body through both of our thick coats.

God.

His hip brushed mine every time the train rocked.His arm pressed into my side.Petyr’s thigh—long and firm—slid up against mine in the lurch and sway of the ride, and each time it did, I thought I might combust.A trickle of sweat slid down the back of my neck, completely out of place in the freezing winter.

I stared down at the floor.Concrete.Scuffed boots.Mud.

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