Page 77 of Shadows of the Past
"Zoya," I command, trying to keep my voice steady, authoritative, despite the tremor running through me. "Stay down. Don't move."
But the uncertainty is there, a fatal crack in my composure. And it's all the opening she needs. With a guttural cry, she launches herself at me.
My head connects hard with the floor as we crash down, stars exploding behind my eyes. But even through the disorientation, one thought remains paramount:Don't hurt her badly. Akim would be destroyed if something happened to her even though, right now, I'm the one in immediate danger.
Her fist slams into the top of my head, and for a terrifying moment, everything goes black. But I won't let her win. Not like this.
She wants a fight? Fine. She’ll get one.
Chapter 28
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Maksim
Miss you.
Her words have been echoing in my head for the last thirty minutes, ever since I hung up. Miss. It’s too small a word, too weak to capture the raw ache that settled in my chest the moment I left her twelve hours ago. It feels like a vital part of me is missing when I’m not near her, like I’m only half-alive.
That settles it.Never again.Next mission, no matter how dangerous, she comes with me.
I step into our bedroom, expecting to find her curled up on the bed, maybe reading. The emptiness hits me first. She’s not here. Unease prickles down my spine. I dial Akim, skipping the usual greeting.
"Where's Julia?"
"How should I know?" His voice is rough, stressed. "I'm stuck at the port. A shipment got held up, won't let it into the city."
We spoke less than an hour ago. Where the hell would she go without telling one of us? Especially now, after everything…
"Actually," Akim adds, a thought striking him, "she might be with Zoya. I asked her to check on her tonight."
It's the only logical explanation. Still, the unease lingers as I head toward Akim's cottage. As I get closer, the feelingintensifies.Something's wrong. Then I hear it, faint shouts and a muffled cry. My hand goes to my weapon instinctively as I break into a run, covering the remaining distance quickly.
The cottage door is slightly ajar. It takes me five seconds flat to cross the threshold and move down the short hall, drawn toward the sounds of struggle coming from the main room. Then I hear Julia’s voice, sharp and strained, laced with something I don't recognize.
"If you don't stay put, I'll make sure the next bullet quiets you for good."
I burst into the living room. Julia is kneeling over Zoya, her pistol pressed firmly against Zoya's temple. Zoya is sobbing, her eyes red-rimmed and wild. On the nearby sofa lies a small boy, unconscious, one of the two kids brought in today, the ones supposed to be locked in the basement.
The sound of my entrance makes both women freeze, their heads snapping toward me. Gun raised, my voice comes out harsh, demanding.
"Explain what the hell is happening here. Now!"
Julia’s eyes widen when she sees me, a flicker of something—guilt? relief?—crossing her face before it hardens again. Zoya thrashes beneath her, trying to push her off. When she finally breaks free, clutching her bleeding arm, she scrambles toward me, her voice rising hysterically.
"I found her trying to strangle the boy! When I confronted her, she dragged me here. She tried to kill me, Max!"
I hear the words, but my brain refuses to process them. They're like puzzle pieces from different boxes, refusing to fit.Julia? Hurting a child? Impossible.Which means…Zoya is lying.
"Julia," I say, my voice softer now, my gaze fixed on the woman I love. Relief washes over her face, so profound it makes my chest ache.How could she ever think I’d believe such garbage about her?
Before Julia can speak, Zoya throws herself at me, grabbing my shirt, her voice pleading, desperate. "Max, you have to believe me! Please!"
My pistol finds her temple, the cold metal silencing her instantly. And in that moment, looking down at her, truly seeing her for the first time in…how long?...something inside me tears. Zoya was good. Sweet, innocent Zoya. She was supposed to stay good. But this place, this poison, it seeped into her slowly, insidiously, while we weren't looking. We all saw the little girl with big eyes and braided pigtails, blind to the ice forming in her gaze, the manipulation weaving through her words.
"She was strangling him when I walked in." Julia's quiet confirmation is all I need.
My eyes drop to the girl trembling beneath my gun, the girl who is about to shatter my best friend's world.
