Chapter 9 Adrian
ADRIAN
As soon as Quinn told me Sonya hasn’t picked up her phone in a few days, I left the club.
I didn’t know where to go.
Even though Sonya and I came across each other often enough, she almost always left me hanging—after a few words or even a short staredown. So it should be no surprise that I don’t know a lot about Sonya’s personal life and where she likes to hang out.
She’s not at her apartment.
Quinn confirmed that.
But not knowing what else to do, I went there. I camp out in the lobby all night, waiting for Sonya to come home. I’m buddies with Sonya’s doorman, Farim, now.
She doesn’t show up.
Now it’s morning, and Quinn has more information.
“Sorry, it took a while to find it since they moved, but this is her dance studio’s new address.”
In the background of Quinn’s video call, Lokhov pops up. “This is a shit idea. You two are going to get into trouble.”
Quinn winces. “Fuck. I know I’m overreacting,” he says. “But—”
“You’re her brother,” I say firmly. “And you need to double-check to make sure she’s okay.”
So do I. It kills me thinking she might be in trouble.
“But if she’s at the studio and knows I sent you, it’s over,” says Quinn. “She hates it when anyone—”
“—shows her any kind of concern, worry, or care,” I quip. “Yup, I’m aware.”
He groans. “This is going to blow up in our faces.”
Lokhov crosses his arms. A ripple of something crosses his face. “Keep me updated. Kavi is worried, too. Sonya hasn’t answered her calls either.”
“She has to be at the studio.” Quinn’s mouth thins. “Right?”
“She’ll be there.” I don’t know who I’m reassuring harder. Him or me. “And don’t worry, I won’t let her see me.”
“Because if she catches you, she’ll eat you alive,” Lokhov warns.
“I’m not scared,” I brag, trying to lighten the tension, even as I’m sprinting to my car to head to the studio.
“I’m scared,” Quinn admits, going along with it. “And I’m not even in the country!”
“Which is why you’re sending me.” The sigh out of my mouth is dramatic. “If I don’t make it, love my cat like she’s your own kid. And Lokhov? You have to put a shrine up of me in your house. No, make that two shrines.” My finger taps my chin. “Also Quinn, this is really important.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Make sure the team wears lockets with a picture of my face around their neck for the rest of their lives. If they don’t, I’ll have to haunt them forever. Me in a sexy robe—”
“Why do you always have to wear a sexy robe?!”
The three of us go back and forth like this, camouflaging our stress with banter.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve hung up the phone and pulled up to her studio.
My heart races as I go inside. What if she’s not here?
What if there’s a reason to worry about why she’s not answering Quinn’s calls?
Is Sonya actually in trouble? Suddenly, I’m pumping my legs harder. Going faster. Almost running.
According to the signs inside there’s a large auditorium and a small auditorium.
The small one is empty.
The large one isn’t. I hear voices echoing.
Up a staircase and around the corner, there’s a hallway that leads to a stage.
I walk down that way, and I’m about to step around the curtain to go to the stage when I see a tall woman with brown skin and dark hair standing there. In the middle as if ready to perform.
The pulse in my throat leaps violently.
There she is.
Sonya.
My legs go weak. Relief floods me.
She’s standing there with her pinched eyebrows and that full, kissable mouth downturned into a frown. Her black hair is pulled up into a tight bun. Pair that with her usual aura of grumpiness and a dark purple tutu, and she looks breathtaking.
I thought the fact that we haven’t seen each other in six months would’ve tempered my reaction to her, but it hasn’t. Nothing does. Every time I see her, my heartbeat scrambles, and I lose my train of thought.
I need to get over this. Over her.
Fuck. Wasn’t that the idea?
Slipping my hands into my pockets, I tell myself that’s why I should go. Quinn will be relieved to know his sister seems okay. Having confirmed that, I should get out of here.
Abruptly lights dim. That’s when I notice there’s an audience. About twenty people are seated in front of the stage. Music begins playing.
Suddenly, I can’t move, because Sonya starts dancing.
In the beginning, she starts like any athlete warming up. Stretching, loosening muscles, and bending into poses that wake the body up.
Okay, that’s a goddamn lie and you know it, Adrian.
I’m delusional if I think she’s like any other athlete. It’s not even close. How she bends her foot back makes my expression go slack. It’s like watching a very skilled warrior get ready for battle. There’s regal seriousness in how she snaps to attention, lifting her arms into her first pose.
It’s the way she’s breathing, and how elegantly her muscles contract and extend. Her glowing skin and the darkness of her eyes brimming with passion under the lights. Raw power as she moves to the music. Then she smiles.
The curtain I’m standing behind rustles. Fuck. It’s me, because I almost tripped over my feet.
Sonya smiling is an eclipse-type event for how rare it is. Even if I recognize this one isn’t real. It’s made for the stage. Fabricated completely.
I rub my chest, attempting not to gawk—and failing. Time is suspended, and I don’t mind. It feels like it will go on forever, and for a while it does, but then…
Out of nowhere, perfection misaligns. There’s a wobble to her body. Legs stumble and her landings get shakier the higher she jumps. This is wrong. And she knows it’s wrong because her expression drops with every mistake.
When Sonya’s knee hits the ground hard, I fist the curtain.
It’s been said I grin like a maniac whenever I face our opponents. There’s a wild gleam in my ice blue eyes as I battle against the boards, fighting for the puck. I have fun even when I’m dripping with sweat and running on fumes in the last seconds of a triple overtime. It’s what I’m known for.
That Adrian isn’t in the building today.
My hands curl into fists, and my jaw could split in two. That’s how hard I’m biting down, from watching Sonya struggle.
She straightens up to her feet and starts moving again and seems to be priming herself. This next jump is going to be big. Bracing her muscles, she leaps—
And the blood in my veins freezes.
Because Sonya falls hard. All the way down.
She’s not getting up.
Not thinking, I sprint onto the stage.