Page 82 of Refrain

I’d forgotten about the connection to Arno, but as I head for the elevator and ride it to the top floor, it shoves its way into my mind again. Could the Petrovs have crossed the Cartel? Jose certainly seems like the type of enemy to warrant an increase in security, but Piotr always worked hard to soothe his allies in the drug trade. No, I suspect that another enemy has him spooked. Any other day, I’d consider finding out who.

Now, it’s all I can do just to focus on breathing. Living. Fighting.

My fingers are slick with sweat.Breathe.I do, keeping the gun tuckedinsidethe pocket of my jacket. His jacket. I smell him even here, clashing with the growing stench of Wolf Blood and real blood in the air. I still taste him, faint at the back of my throat like a memory, one I cling to as my past looms ahead of me.

The door to the suite is locked this time, and a scowling man in a black suit answers it when I knock. He takes one look at me and mutters something into the headset affixed to his bald head. A reply comes a second later, laced with static.

“Let her in.”

The man steps aside and leaves me to wander the maze of corridors alone. I find Piotr in a study. The same one that used to serve as his base of operations back in the old days. Once again,nostalgia has me rooted to the spot. The floors are still dark wood, the walls a familiar shade of black. He even kept it furnished the same. I used to sit on his lap while he sat on that chair and snarled orders into the old-fashioned rotary phone on his desk.Make me more money. Kill that bastard. Bring me their heads.

Today, he seems to be in the middle of bookkeeping. A ledger is open in front of him. When he sees me, he lets a silver pen fall from his hand and rises swiftly to his feet.

“Ksei—”

“I discovered your little spy. You won’t bother her again,” I throw at him, but the words don’t land with the impact I want. My voice is a pathetic rasp andhejust…stares.

“Did you kill her?”

I would sell my soul to never see that look on his face again. Hope. Hunger. He inhales sharply, seeming to grow larger with every breath of air he takes, feeding off mine.

“No.” I clench my fingers together. “I’m not a monster, like you.”

“Ah, but youwantedto.” His tongue seems to caress each and every word, gently driving them into my skull. Did I?He advances a step before I can convince myself of the opposite. He’s wearing black again. Another tailored ebony suit with a blood-red tie to draw the eye. “Another obstacle between us gone.”

I back away until I’m on the other side of the room, leaving a leather chair between us. “Was she the only one?”

Of course not. His eyes take on that cunning, predatory gleam.

“A diligent man uses more than one eye to see with,Ksei.”

My own gaze fights to stay clear. My eyes sting. My vision is a sloppy smear. Who else? Darcy? Francisco? Who else does he have in his pocket towatchme and whisper back in his ear?

I can’t smuggle them all to Ivan.

“Is this why you came to me now,Ksei?” he asks in a dangerously soft tone. “Or is that just what you told yourself?”

It’s like he’s inside my head, pulling the strings to my emotions—broken puppets manipulated across a stage doused in gasoline. The savoring looks he casts at my body serve as the lit match tossed on it all.

When his tongue shoots out along his lower lip, I’m ablaze.

“I thought you were brave enough,”Domi said. My heart pounds, striving with every beat to prove her wrong.

“I wanted to ask you one thing before I kill you,” I tell him, fighting to make my voice stronger. It breaks. My hand shakes. I don’t pull the gun just yet, but I can. I will.

“Of course.” He folds his hands over his front, continuing to smile that wolfish grin. “You may ask me anything. Anything you wish.”

Anything.It’s a dangerous prospect. I need to shoot him in the head and be done with it. Hope is an awful fucking thing. It seeps into your conscience before you can smother it, tipping the scales between fear and hate.

“Tell me…” I swallow hard and fight to suck in air. I won’t go back there. I won’t be sucked into the memory.

As if to taunt me, the images appear anyway—my father dead, my stepmother lying bleeding and broken, my sister.

“Anna…Anastasia.” Just by saying her name, I’m clawing decades-old wounds open in one fell swoop. “My sister. Where is she?”

I wait for Piotr to shrug me off, but a curious thing happens. His smile falls, but his eyes still gleam as an ominous sensation clenches in my stomach. I learned to grit my teeth and pray to God whenever he got that look.

“Your sister.” He shakes his head sadly, though he’s not really concerned. In fact, I’ve never seen him look so happy. “She’s alive, Ksei. She’s safe.”

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