Page 29 of Sin Wager
"Elvin was unwell…" I lie, and something cold settles in my stomach. Sonya has never called me at home before, never pushed this hard for my participation. "How high-value?"
"High enough that mistakes won't be tolerated."
The implied threat is clear. I grip the phone tighter, glancing back toward Elvin's room where I can hear him and Batya discussing the morning news.
"What exactly do you need me to do?"
"Place bets exactly as instructed like normal, nothing new. I'll meet you at the south entrance at noon with the envelopes."
"Sonya—"
"Noon, Vera. Don't be late."
The line goes dead.
I stand in the kitchen, staring at my phone, while the chill from Sonya's call spreads through my chest. She's pushing me, calling me at home and demanding things I never promised I'd give. I don't like it. Misha is right. This isn't safe. The picture of that poor girl at the other track in Moscow, the one no one helped, is stuck in my head. What if I turn out to be like her? Sonya doesn't like me so she disappears me? Then what?
"Everything alright?" Batya calls from the bedroom.
"Fine," I call back, sliding the phone into my pocket. "Just schedule changes."
I return to Elvin's bedside, but the warm morning atmosphere has been shattered. Even as I smile and nod at their conversation about weekend plans, part of my mind is spinning through worst-case scenarios. What if that new bookie notices the betting patterns? What if someone connects me to the large payouts? What if Sonya's pushiness means the people she works for are getting impatient?
"You look pale," Elvin observes. "Bad news?"
"No, just work stuff. Boring work stuff."
But it's not boring, and we all know it. I can see the worry creeping back into Batya's eyes, the way his hands tighten around his teacup. He knows I'm hiding something, even if he can't identify what.
"Maybe you should call in sick again," he suggests. "Spend the day with us tomorrow instead."
The temptation is overwhelming. To ignore Sonya's call, to pretend I never heard her voice, to spend the day in this warm apartment with the two people who matter most to me in the world. But I think about Elvin's next treatment, about the bills stacking up on Batya's desk, about the promises I made when I agreed to help Sonya in the first place.
"I can't. They're depending on me."
"You matter too, Vera," Elvin says quietly. "Your life matters too."
I lean forward and kiss his forehead, tasting the salt of fever and medicine. "I know. But right now, keeping you healthy is what matters most."
He catches my hand as I pull away. "Promise me you'll be careful. Whatever you're involved in, promise me you'll put yourself first if things get dangerous."
His grip is weak but insistent, and I see fear in his eyes that has nothing to do with his illness. Even my brother understands that the money isn’t coming from extra hours at work.
"I promise."
It's another lie, but a necessary one. If things get dangerous, I'll put my family first, same as always. That's what love means—sacrificing your own safety for the people who need you.
But as I sit in that sunlit bedroom, listening to my father and brother discuss Sunday plans I won't be around to share, I can't shake the feeling that Sonya's call has changed something fundamental. The pushiness in her voice, the lack of tolerance for mistakes, the high-value bets—it all points toward an escalation I'm not prepared for.
12
MISHA
Moscow spreads before us in all its contradictions—ancient cathedrals next to glass towers, history bleeding into ambition at every street corner. Vera walks beside me through Red Square, her neck craned back to take in the impossible geometry of Saint Basil's Cathedral. The afternoon light catches the gold in her hair, and I find myself watching her instead of the tourists snapping photos around us.
"I've never been here," she says, wonder clear in her voice. "I mean, I've lived in Moscow for years, but I've never actually come to see it."
"Work doesn't leave much time for sightseeing."
