11. Cora
CHAPTER ELEVEN
cora
Unknown Number: Thinking about me?
Me: No
Unknown Number: Lie to yourself all you want when you touch yourself at night, zayka.
A few days later, I’d settled into living at Conall’s and learned how to sneak around the building without too much interaction with others. I’d found that most of the staff in the building used the elevators, which left the stairwells free. Even the men stuck to the elevators, which surprised me. I thought they’d be looking for extra exercise. It made it easier for me, so I wouldn’t complain. Conveniently, my prints were coded for the doors so I could pop out into the alleyway and back in. It seemed awfully sloppy of my brothers.
They were hard to pin down. Paddy and Brody seemed busy all the time, and I hadn’t even seen where they lived. I knew it was in the building, but that was it. I wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt my feelings that they seemed to have so little time for me. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to being alone, but in this big building, it seemed I was even more alone than ever. Everyone but me had a place to be or a job to do.
Heading down to the cafeteria this morning, I had to admit that even this was a gorgeous space. The smell of baked goods, coffee, and bacon lingered in the air, and I was suddenly starving. I scanned the room, balancing a tray with toast, Lucky Charms, and a steaming mug of tea. It was mostly empty, except for a few of Conall’s men seated in the corner, heads bowed over their plates as they shoveled food into their mouths.
They didn’t seem to like me much or were afraid of Conall.
Or Maxim.
I spotted Finn at a table near the back, flipping through a dog-eared paperback, a half-eaten scone, and a mug of tea in front of him. I headed his way, my boots echoing on the floor.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked, setting my tray down without waiting for an answer.If I touched base with him for a few hours a day, I’d found that he would stay out of my way the rest of the time. He seemed to think I was a good girl if I let him follow me around for a while.
Finn glanced up, giving me a faint smile. “Be my guest.”
I sat, tearing a piece of toast in half. “Do you always eat alone, or am I just lucky?”
He chuckled, closing his book. “Not everyone’s up for conversation this early. Especially not in this place.”
I glanced toward the corner where the men were sitting. One of them looked over, his gaze sliding past me to Finn before he leaned in to whisper something to his companion. Finn didn’t react, but I caught the subtle stiffening of his shoulders.
“Looks like they’ve got something to say,” I muttered, taking a bite of my cereal — fishing for a blue horseshoe.
Finn shrugged, his expression neutral. “They’ve always got something to say.”
Another man approached a lean figure with sharp features and an unshaven face. He gave Finn a respectful nod, murmured something in his ear, and then walked off without glancing at me.
“Friendly,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
Finn smirked. “They’re not ignoring you on purpose.”
“Oh, really?” I leaned back in my chair, looking at him with disbelief. “Care to explain, then? Or is it because I’m marrying Volkov?”
Finn hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the men. “It’s not like that, Cora.”
“Of course it’s not,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Like I had a choice. I was grumpy and wouldn’t begin to admit that it was because Maxim hadn’t come to see me in days. I was itchy, not understanding what I should expect from this relationship. If only we had defined how we were going to move forward … what marriage would be like.
We lapsed into silence, the clatter of dishes and low hum of conversation filling the space. I finished my breakfast quickly, the tension pressing against my chest.
“I’m going out,” I announced, standing and grabbing my camera bag.
Finn arched a brow. “Out where?”
“Outside,” I said, slinging the strap over my shoulder. “Into the neighborhood. I want to take some pictures.”
He sighed and stood, brushing crumbs from his lap. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”
Finn disapproved of my picture-taking. I suppose I didn’t blame him since this was essentially a criminal organization. They probably were allergic to the thought of people photographing them.
I already regretted my decision. “You don’t have to babysit me, Finn.”
“Not up for debate,” he replied, his tone firm.“Bring a jacket and a hat. It’s cold out there.”
His orders grated on me. Everyone was always trying to get me to bundle up for winter. I wasn’t a moron or three years old. I knew it was cold.
We left the building, stepping into the winter air. Vinegar Hill’s streets starkly contrasted with Conall’s world’s cold sterility. Brick townhouses lined the cobblestone streets, their facades worn but charming. Some were polished up like Conall’s, but the neighborhood was still full of character. I loved the architecture of the older buildings. I hadn’t been able to get a firm handle on the layout of the streets yet. I was still learning them block by block.
I pulled out my camera, adjusting the settings as I wandered down the sidewalk. Finn trailed a few steps behind, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He obviously wasn’t a fan of me walking around, but that wasn’t my problem.
It was nice to have Finn with me because I could take pictures of whatever I wanted, but I made sure to keep it tame with him here.
Click. The camera captured a window. Click. A man working. I saw the looming Brooklyn Bridge in the distance, so I headed in that direction.
Finn’s shadow fell over me as I crouched to snap a shot of a stray cat perched on a stoop. “You always take pictures of cats, or is this a new hobby?”
I glanced up, giving him a wry smile. “I take pictures of anything that catches my eye. Cats included.”
He chuckled, stepping back to give me space.
Like always, I could let myself go when I was taking pictures.
Point.
Shoot.
Point.
Shoot.
Each frame told a story.
I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to Maxim. His gaze felt like a touch, the low timbre of his voice when he called me zayka. My reaction to him frustrated me. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around men who were confident—or arrogant, for that matter—but Maxim was different.
He was in my head, under my skin, and it was infuriating.
I stopped in front of a crumbling townhouse, its windows boarded up and ivy vines withered by winter creeping up the bricks. Late morning light filtered through the dead leaves, casting a golden glow over the scene. I lifted my camera and framed the shot.
“Do you hear that?” Finn asked.
I did. It sounded like an animal. Faint. Finn was already moving toward the edges of the building as he bent over.
It was cold today. Winter was creeping up in New York; even my puffer coat wasn’t enough to keep out the chill. Huddled back in a pile of scraps was what had to be the scruffiest kitten I’d ever seen. I couldn’t even tell what color it was. I’m not sure how Finn even heard its cries. They were so faint.
It was alive, but barely. It looked like it’d already had a rough start to things — half frozen, and its ear looked like it had been chewed on.
I removed my beanie, picked the kitten up, cradled it inside, carefully wrapped it, and put it close to my puffer coat to protect it from the elements.
“What are you doing?” Finn sputtered.
“Keeping it. It’s cold.”
“Cora,” Finn had begun to protest. “Conall won’t like it …”
I couldn’t give two fucks what Conall would like, and I turned to tell him when —
Bang.
The sharp crack of gunfire.
I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. Another shot followed, and shouts echoed down the street.
Bang .
The sound reverberated off the buildings, loud and close enough to make my ears ring. My first instinct was to drop to the ground, but the tiny bundle in my hands stopped me. Instead, I spun around, clutching the kitten against my chest like it was my lifeline.
Finn’s body collided with mine, pushing me down behind a parked car. His hand was firm on my shoulder, his other already reaching for the gun tucked under his jacket.
“Stay down,” he hissed, his voice low and sharp.
I didn’t argue. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. The kitten squirmed weakly, a faint, pitiful mewl escaping its tiny mouth.
“Who the hell is shooting at us?” I whispered, glancing around the car to catch a glimpse of the street.
Finn pressed me back, his weight pinning me to the cold metal of the car. “I said stay down.”
Shouting erupted in the distance. The words were indistinct and filled with panic. Another gunshot rang out, then another, the sound bouncing off the brick walls of Vinegar Hill’s narrow streets.
Finn peeked over the edge of the car, his eyes scanning the street ahead. His movements were quick and deliberate, as if this were second nature to him.
“Finn,” I started, but he cut me off.
“Not now, Cora. Just keep quiet and don’t move.”
The sharp edge in his voice silenced me, though it didn’t stop my pulse from racing or my mind from spinning in a dozen directions. Who was shooting? Was it random, or did this have something to do with Conall? With Maxim?
God, I was terrible in a crisis. If some virus broke out and there were zombies, I was totally fucked.
I clutched the kitten closer, its frail body trembling against me. My camera dug into my side, but I didn’t dare shift.
Finn ducked back behind the car, his jaw tight. “We need to move. Now.”
I didn’t hesitate as he grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. My legs wobbled, but I followed his lead, clutching the kitten and my bag as we darted toward an alley, running even as I expected the sharp sting of a bullet to hit.
The world around us blurred—brick walls, iron fences, shattered glass glittering on the sidewalk. Finn’s grip on my arm was unrelenting as he guided me through the labyrinth of streets, every corner feeling like it could be our last.
Finally, we ducked into a narrow passage, the noise of the gunfire fading behind us. Finn pressed me against the wall, his breathing harsh but controlled.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.
I nodded, unable to form words.
His gaze dropped to the bundle in my arms. “You still have that mangy kitten?”
“Don’t be a dick. Yeah, I still have it. I wasn’t going to leave it behind,” I whispered.
Finn shook his head, muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t catch.
“Finn, what the hell just happened?” I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound steady.
He looked at me, his expression grim. “Trouble. Conall is going to be pissed.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the distant sound of sirens stopped me.
“Come on,” Finn said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “We need to get you back. Now.”
I followed him, the kitten in my arms grounding me even as my mind raced. Trouble. That word felt too small for whatever this was, but I knew one thing for sure.
If Conall was going to be pissed, I was positive that it would pale in comparison to what Maxim would be.