Chapter 29
AMALIE
After several minutes of arguing, Roman’s guards reluctantly let me out of the car at the nearest train stop.
The doors sigh open and the platform air hits me like a slap, the familiar cold, metallic scent I always associate with the El. I step out with my overnight bag digging into my shoulder, my brain replaying the events of last night over and over.
Sasha’s face was the worst part. Not the sirens, not the CPS investigators with their clipboards marching through Roman’s home. Not even Roman’s eyes when he looked at me with an expression that made it clear he didn’t trust me.
Only Sasha.
The way he’d clung to Roman’s coat. The way his little voice was thin with confusion. The way he’d looked at me like he was hoping I had all the answers, that I could keep him safe.
Instead, I left.
I picture him at breakfast, eager to see me, eager to get started on our projects for the day. Then I imagine him realizing I’m not there and I’m not coming. I imagine him cutting his pancakes into neat squares, glancing at the empty chair where I usually sit.
The thought tears me up inside.
Maybe I should go back. Not to stay but to say goodbye properly. To kneel in front of Sasha and tell him I’m not disappearing because of him. It’ll hurt either way, but at least it would be a proper goodbye.
I think about texting Roman, but the reasons I left return. It’s not safe. Roman’s not safe. And what’s more, it’s clear the CPS visit was a tactic to get to Roman. Whoever it was, they’re comfortable using Sasha, which means they might use me to get to Sasha.
I need to leave before I sink even deeper into Roman’s world, before I let him too far into mine.
When I walk out of the station, the city feels different somehow. It’s louder, messier. It reminds me that Roman’s world is a lifetime away from all of this, where regular people live.
I pull my coat tighter and head down, scanning out of habit. It’s one more thing Kyle drilled into me when I was younger, when he was still in academy training and was all about situational awareness.
Face up. Hands free. Know your exits.
My building is only a few blocks away. It’s a plain, brick square with a lobby that always smells like onions.
It’s cramped, small, and a little depressing.
But it’s home. I’ll go there, check my bank balance, see what my options are.
I need to call Mom. I’ve only texted with her since working for Roman.
I need to fill her in, see what we can do about her bills.
I’m rounding the corner toward the side entrance of my place when a shadow detaches from the wall ahead. Then another. The men are tall, muscular, and heading right for me.
My body knows what to do before my brain catches up. My stomach drops, and every nerve in me goes sharp.
I slow just a bit, my mind scrambling for options. There’s a street. Light traffic. A few pedestrians on the block I just turned from, but they’re not close enough. My keys are in my pocket—I could put those between my fingers. Phone’s there too. But not my pepper spray.
The first man steps into my path, blocking the sidewalk. The second moves behind me, cutting off my escape.
My blood runs cold.
“Amalie Denning?” the first one asks. His voice is casual but menacing, his words tinged with a Russian accent.
My heart pounds. I try to remain calm, as if I’m not on the verge of a total freak out. “Nope.”
He smiles like he knows what I’m doing and thinks it’s cute. “Yeah. It’s you.”
The second man reaches for my arm.
Once more, my body reacts before my brain. I twist hard, jerking away. Then I bring my knee up fast into the space between us. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough to make the second guy step back out of instinct so he doesn’t get hit.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap. My voice shakes, more out of anger than fear.
The first one’s smile disappears. “We’re not here to hurt you, sweetheart.”
He steps closer and I see the zip tie he’s holding.
I move backward, looking for an opening. The second man has recovered from his dodge and lunges toward me. He grabs for my bag strap. I yank it back, using the momentum to swing the bag hard into his face. It connects with a satisfying thwack, and he stumbles back, his hand going to his nose.
“Bitch!”
“You got that right,” I spit at him. Then I bolt.
But the first guy is too quick. He catches my wrist, holding it with a vice-like grip. He yanks me toward him, twisting my arm behind me. Pain flashes white hot at my shoulder.
Panic’s starting to flare. “Let go of me!” I shout.
His mouth is close to my ear. “Stop fighting. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“Go to hell.”
I lift my foot and slam my heel down onto his instep as hard as I can. He snarls and loosens just enough for me to break free. I spin, throwing my elbow back, catching him somewhere in the ribs. He grunts but doesn’t go down. He’s strong. Trained. And a hell of a lot bigger than me.
The second man grabs me from behind, arms around my torso in a bear hug from hell. He’s trying to drag me. Over my shoulder I see his destination—a black van parked at the corner.
“No!” I kick and thrash, using my weight and turning myself into pure chaos.
I manage to fling my heel back and connect with his shin. He hisses, grip tightening. The first man steps in again, zip tie at the ready.
Suddenly, a third presence enters the space like a blade.
Andrei.
It happens so fast I almost don’t register him as real. One second the first man is stepping toward me, and the next Andrei is between us, moving like a force of nature.
He grabs the first attacker’s wrist and twists. I wince as a sickening crack fills the air, followed by a howl of pain. The zip tie falls to the ground. Andrei drives a brutal, efficient strike right into the man’s throat and he collapses, reduced to a gasping, choking mess on the sidewalk.
The second attacker still has me and is still trying to drag me toward the van.
Andrei turns his attention to him, his eyes cold, almost black. “Let her go.”
The man hesitates, giving me the out I need to save myself. I throw my head back and connect with his chin, hard. I wrench free, spinning away.
Andrei takes advantage of the clear shot.
He steps forward and throws a punch. Blood sprays from the man’s mouth, and I’m pretty sure I saw a tooth go flying.
The man staggers again. Andrei reaches forward, putting his hand on the back of the man’s head and slamming his face into the side of a nearby car with such force the metal shudders.
The man wobbles a bit, then falls backward.
Andrei turns his attention to the van, then to me. “Go to the police station. Two blocks that way. Run. Now.”
I know that police station—it’s Kyle’s precinct.
My chest his heaving. “Andrei—”
“Now.”
The second man is down, but the first is getting up, having somehow recovered from the hit to his throat. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blade.
I gasp and shout, “Andrei!”
The man lunges. Andrei pivots at the last second, catching the man’s forearm. The blade slices too close and my lungs seize with terror.
I don’t think. I just move.
I rush in, low and fast, driving my foot into the side of the attacker’s knee right where Kyle taught me, where he said the joint is the weakest.
The man yelps, his leg buckling sideways.
Andrei’s gaze snaps to me for the briefest of moments, surprise flickering across his face.
Then he uses the opening. He disarms the man with a twist of his wrist, then a sharp strike to the gut that ends the fight in an instant.
The man’s body crumples to the ground. He’s wheezing like he just got the wind knocked clear out of him.
The other guy’s still down, groaning and moaning.
The doors to the van open, and another man steps out. Andrei turns to me. “Run. Now. Police station.”
I finally obey. I scoop up my bag, my hands trembling so badly I almost drop it. I back up two steps, my eyes locked on Andrei.
I don’t want to leave him.
“Go!”
I swallow the panic, and nod. Then I sprint.
My boots slam onto the pavement, every breath burning. My heart feels like it’s on the verge of punching a hole out of my chest.
As I run, I realize the horrible truth.
I left Roman with the mindset of ending it.
But this, whatever it is, has only just begun.