Chapter 41
LYRA
Icome back to consciousness slowly and painfully, my head pounding, the world reassembling itself in fragments.
Everything is blurry. Everything aches. My shoulder, especially.
The concrete floor is cold and rough against my cheek. My wrists are bound behind my back with zip ties tight enough to bite into the skin. I struggle against them but quickly realize it’s no use.
I can taste blood along with a weird chemical tinge that reminds me of the smell of the airbag. And my shoulder… damn. I’m able to roll it, which means it’s not broken, but it aches like hell.
I try to remember the sequence of events, but everything is so goddamn hazy.
The gunshot. The horn blaring.
Misha.
I remember a gloved hand reaching in and grabbing him.
My stomach turns as I realize I have no idea if he’s alive or dead. Tears form in my eyes, and I force myself to breathe.
The baby.
Panic rises in me. I try to place my hand on my stomach, as I’ve done so many times before, but I can’t. I struggle against the ties again, desperate to see if I can somehow feel the baby inside of me, confirm that it’s still alive.
I moan in agony, sobbing.
My baby.
I don’t feel any pain in my stomach, but I don’t know if that means anything.
I force my eyes wide open.
I’m in a massive, abandoned warehouse with high ceilings and exposed steel beams. It reminds me of a gigantic, industrial skeleton. Fluorescent tubes flicker overhead, casting everything in an eerie glow.
There are no windows, just a large rolling door to my left and a smaller door behind me. It’s half open and appears to lead to a corridor that I can’t see down. The air smells like stagnant water and old gas.
I have no idea if I’m even still in New York.
I roll over, seeing that I’m tied to a support column. There’s no furniture. Whoever kidnapped me had no intention of making me comfortable.
And then I see her.
Standing ten feet away, leaning against a folding table with a phone in her hand and mascara streaking down her face, is Sophia.
She’s looking at me. Her expression cycles through guilt, fear, and defiance before settling on a forced blankness, like she’s trying her hardest to look unaffected.
“You’re awake,” she says.
I groan, trying to sit up. The effort makes my shoulder sing in pain.
“Sophia.” There’s a surprising strength in my voice despite how goddamn scared I am.
“Lyra—”
“You set me up.” My throat is raw, my vocal chords painful and tender from all the screaming. “The phone call, the warning… you called me, so you’d know exactly where I was.”
She doesn’t deny it. She glances down at the phone in her hand, then sets it on the table.
“They already knew where you were,” she says. “Alex had people following you and Misha the minute you left the clinic. The call wasn’t to track you—it was to distract you.”
“Well, congratulations; it worked.” I pull against the zip ties. “Where’s Misha?”
“I don’t know. They left him in the car, I think.”
“He was shot, Sophia. He was shot in the chest. Is he even alive?” Part of me doesn’t want to hear the answer, for fear that it might be no.
“I… I don’t know.” She says it with a flat affect that suggests she’s trying to compartmentalize “I wasn’t there. I was here, waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me.”
“Yeah. Waiting for you.”
The lights buzz overhead. Somewhere in the distance, I hear water dripping in a slow, irregular rhythm.
I stare at the woman who used to be my best friend, feeling something colder than anger.
“How the hell did this happen, Sophia? How did you get from the maternity store, telling me how sorry you were to this?”
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, looking down at the floor. Something about the way she seems ashamed about what she’s doing makes me even angrier.
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re holding me hostage in a warehouse. It’s not that complicated.”
Sophia’s jaw tightens. She picks up the phone again, sets it down, then picks it up again. I can see that her hands are shaking.
“Alex came to me after that day in front of the maternity store,” she says. “He knew I’d talked to you. I don’t know how he knew, but he did. He said that I was compromising the plan, that I’d tipped you off, and if the plan got screwed because of me, he’d—”
She stops and swallows.
“He threatened my family, my mom and my sister, and said that if I didn’t cooperate, he’d make sure they’d pay for it. I know what that means, Ly. I’m not stupid. I know what this world is, and I know who these people are.”
“These people. You say that like you had no say in being with them.”
“I didn’t choose this!” Her outburst is sudden and raw, echoing through the vast, open space.
“I chose a rich boyfriend who was cute and funny. I chose a lifestyle. And I sure as hell didn’t choose holding my friend hostage in an abandoned warehouse while my boyfriend tries to murder his own brother. ”
My blood runs cold at her words. Julian. I have no idea if he’s still alive.
But why would I be here if he weren’t? What reason would they have to keep me breathing?
They must be waiting on a signal, a confirmation that he’s dead before they get rid of me.
I have to hope. It’s all I have.
“But here you are,” I say.
She stares at me. Tears trickle down her face, and I can tell they’re real. But they don’t make me feel any sort of way.
“I have a baby inside of me. I was coming from the ultrasound when the car hit us. I’d just heard the heartbeat, saw the flicker on the screen.”
Sophia looks away.
“And now, I’m here with you, in this cold warehouse. You’re helping the people who want to kill me. Don’t tell me this is complicated again.”
She flinches, her gaze flicking to my stomach for just a moment. Her expression changes to sorrow, as if she’s finally realizing what she’s done.
“I didn’t know you were pregnant until I found you at the maternity store.”
“I guess it didn’t change much. You still went ahead with it, and here we are.”
Silence. She’s in over her head and doesn’t know what to say or do. I’m afraid to ask the next question, but I do anyway.
“What’s the plan, Soph? What happens next?”
She swallows hard. The blankness returns, and I can tell she’s having a hard time holding it together.
“Julian dies tonight. That’s the deal Mrs. Lee and that Dobrov guy set up. She’s been working with him and Alex for weeks.”
“Why?”
“The idea is to force Julian out and put Alex in charge. If Julian gives up and gives in, then I guess he might live. But if he refuses, they are going to kill him.”
“Not a chance. There’s no way he’ll let them steal the Bratva from him.”
“Yeah. That’s what Alex thinks, too. If he doesn’t go quietly, they’ll kill him and take over anyway.
And once Julian’s out of the picture, Alex will be in charge with Dobrov’s backing and all the support from the Triads.
The other leaders will fall in line, or they’ll die, too.
And there’s no point in getting upset about it Ly, it’s done. ”
“It’s not done,” I say. “The Triad won’t just go against Julian like that. He said that he had their full support with their leader, Yang.”
She shakes her head. “No. Yang isn’t in the picture anymore.”
The sound of dripping water in the distance fills the silence.
“What? What does that mean?” I ask, the coldness spreading in my stomach, suggesting I already know the answer.
“Mrs. Lee, the representative here in New York, made her own move. She’s been working at it for years, according to Alex. He says she’s really ambitious, wants to be on top. This whole thing has been a plan for her to get outside support to overthrow Yang and position herself as boss.”
There’s a strange, clinical tone to her words, like she’s reciting someone else’s take on it all.
“There was a hit on Yang today. It was timed to happen so fast that no one would know what to do. Word is, he’s dead.”
I feel dizzy. Somehow, I’ve found myself in the middle of an international criminal empire powerplay. All to get Alex back in charge, even if it means killing his own brother.
“What’s my part in this?”
“You’re leverage,” she says. “If Julian doesn’t cooperate and somehow survives, Alex has you. He’ll call Julian, tell him that you’re alive, and offer terms.”
“And if Julian is already dead?”
“Then I’ll get a message on this phone.” She holds it up for a second, then looks away.
Silence.
“And then what, Sophia? What happens after that?”
“They… they’ll kill you.”
I swallow. I should be scared, but I’m more angry than anything.
Her eyes flash. “But I don’t want that to happen!
I’m going to talk to Alex. My thinking is that once Julian’s gone, Alex will be happy and he’ll be, you know, easier to talk to, more willing to work with me.
I’ll tell him that you don’t need to die, that you’re pregnant.
Maybe he’ll just tell you to go away and never come back. ”
“And you believe that.”
“I have to believe that,” she says. “I can’t believe that Alex would really go through with hurting you, especially if you’re pregnant. I won’t let him do it.”
“I think you’re going to find out that you have much less power than you think, Soph.”
She glances aside again. I look at her, this woman I loved like a sister, who I went to college with, shared secrets with, and the woman I thought would be my maid of honor one day.
“You screwed up, Soph. This is going to turn out really, really bad for you.”
“No. Everything is going to work out. Alex and I will be okay, and I’m going to make sure you are, too.”
Part of me wonders if she actually believes what she’s saying—that Alex will just change his mind and let me go.
I know he won’t. I’m a loose end, a liability. He has no reason to let me live.
“It’s going to be fine,” she says.
Fine. God, I hate that word.
She turns away, picks up the phone, and checks it for a message that thankfully hasn’t come yet.
I lie there on the cold concrete with my wrists bound, thinking about Julian and whether or not he’s still alive.
The fluorescent lights buzz and the water drips.
And I wait.