Page 77 of Lethal Abduction

That we were too different. That I’d never fit into her Australian life.

That her parents would fucking hate me on sight.

Not to mention that I somehow have to explain to them why it took me so damned long to come looking for her.

Ifthey are even willing to talk to me—which, given my lack of action until now, is a big fuckingif—I have no idea what I’m going to say.

When it comes to guns blazing and putting bad fuckers down, there’s nothing I can’t plan out, no shit show too daunting to face, no matter how ill-equipped I might be going in.

But having an uncomfortably in-depth conversation with Abby’s parents is a whole other story. One in which I have zero experience and no equipment to deal with whatsoever. The kind of girls I dated before Abby weren’t exactly the type who demanded parental meetings—or in-depth conversations.

Let’s face it: before Abby, I avoided commitment like the plague.

Abby was the first time in my life I didn’t want to run the moment the fun was over. She also never stopped being a mystery to me.

Is that why you let her go so fucking easily, you idiot?

I realize I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard my hands hurt. I’ve been avoiding asking myself that question since that morning in London when Luke called to say she was missing.

Why didn’t I fight harder?

It’s a very different question from the ones I’ve been asking myself over the past months, which have all been torturouswhat-ifs.

What ifI’d just left Roman when Abby asked me to?

What ifI’d agreed to start a new life with her somewhere else?

What ifI was someone fucking else, who’d never picked up a gun?

But for some reason, I never once asked myself the only question that really matters:why did I find it so easy to believe she could just leave me?

Because, mystery or not, I know who Abby is. She might be tough on the outside, full of passion, laughter, and enough sass to tear paint from the walls. But she also has a heart bigger than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s kind, even to people she doesn’t know or when nobody is looking.

Above all, she’s fiercely loyal to those she loves.

Abby’s a lot of things, Dimitry.Darya’s voice echoes in my mind, uncomfortably clearly.But she’s not cruel.

Darya was right, and I know it. Abby might have left me, but she never would have left me hanging in limbo. If she’d known she wasn’t coming back, she would have told me, even if it was just a letter.

Now that I know she was abducted, this seems painfully obvious.

So why was I so ready to believe the worst of her?

But I don’t need a fucking therapist to tell me the answer to that question.

My mother’s face passes behind my eyes, somewhere just out of sight.

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and I shift restlessly. The endless highway stretches into the distance, and I feel the past rushing toward me.

For the first time in many years, I let it come.

Miami, USA

Twenty six years ago

“Come, Dimitry.”My mother tugs me through the Miami streets. “Bystro, synok.” Quickly, little son.

I’m running as fast as I can, but it’s the middle of the night, and I’m exhausted. We’ve been running for what seems like hours, but I can still hear the sickening sound of Yakov’s hand striking my mother’s face from behind the thin door of our apartment, still feel the stinging burns he left on my skin. It’s the pain that has kept me moving.

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