Chapter 1 #2
He takes my hand, his fingers threading through mine with easy confidence.
His thumb traces slow circles against my palm, the touch meant to soothe.
It should comfort me, but it does the opposite.
The warmth of his skin just reminds me of what I stand to lose if he ever learns the truth.
If he ever finds out what Ray wants me to do.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The words fall flat, bitter at the edges.
He tilts his head, as if listening for some hidden meaning in my tone I'm trying to bury. His eyes narrow slightly. “You don't have to thank me, printsessa.”
“I know.”
“Then why do it?”
Because I'm lying to you. Because the man who destroyed my life is using the one person I love most as leverage, and I can't even tell you.
Because your touch makes me want to confess everything and die in the same breath.
Because you're trying to save Hope, and I'm going to betray you to do the same thing, and one of us is going to fail.
Instead, I just meet his eyes and murmur, “Habit, I guess.” The lie comes easily now.
His jaw flexes, a small tell that means he's thinking and analyzing. He studies me for a moment longer, his stare intense enough to make my skin prickle. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s the briefest contact, but it burns through me like a promise I don't deserve.
His lips are warm, and when he pulls away, I feel the absence sting.
Vega lets out a soft bark from the corner, breaking the tension that's been building between us. His tail thumps weakly against the floor.
Luka glances toward him, and his expression softens in a way I rarely see. “You are not ready to move yet,” he directs, his voice gentle but firm. “Rest.”
Vega lowers his head with a resigned sigh, but his gaze darts toward me, his dark eyes watching. There's something knowing in that look that makes me feel exposed.
Luka rises, adjusting the cuff of his black button-down, the fabric glimmering in the morning light. “Albert is stationed outside. I will be gone for a few hours. Do not wander.”
The warning is quiet, but it settles deep, making it clear he isn’t asking, he’s telling me. I nod, watching him cross the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and I hear his footsteps on the stairs, and the low rumble of his voice as he speaks to Albert in Russian.
The moment the sounds fade, I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Silence surrounds me again. The photo burns in my mind until I can't resist anymore.
I reach under the pillow, pull the phone out, and unlock it with trembling fingers.
The screen is bright, and Hope's image stares back at me.
I remember her voice, small and sleepy when she was little, and how she'd beg me to tell her stories on stormy nights.
She'd crawl into my bed, her cold feet pressing against my legs, and whisper, “Tell me the one about the princess and the dragon again.” I remember her at fifteen, all attitude and eyeliner, pretending she didn't need me even as she asked me to proofread her English papers.
I remember her last week, pale but smiling when I promised we'd go home soon, back to our little apartment above Bean & Bloom, where everything made sense.
I failed her, and now Ray holds her life in his hands. He’s using her to force me to betray the one person who’s been fighting through the chaos with me. Tears sting, hot and unwelcome, but I wipe them away quickly.
The phone buzzes suddenly in my hand, a new message lighting up the screen.
A cold dread floods through me, and for a moment, I can't move or breathe.
Don't disappoint me.
No name. No number. Just those three words in stark black text.
My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat. I delete the message with shaking fingers and throw the phone onto the chair across the room. It lands with a soft thud against the cushion. I’m trying to breathe through the rising panic, each inhale tight and insufficient.
“Breathe,” I whisper to myself, my hands fisted in the sheets. “Just breathe.”
I move to stand. My body protests instantly, ribs pulling, thigh aching where the bruise has spread from hip to knee.
The scar at my temple throbs in rhythm with my pulse, a dull ache that never quite fades.
I grab the bedpost and steady myself, fingers gripping the smooth wood until my knuckles blanch.
Vega lifts his head, ears pricking forward, alert despite his injury.
“I'm okay,” I tell him, though we both know it's a lie. My voice wavers, and I clear my throat. “Really.”
The floor is cold against my bare feet, sending shivers up my calves. I take a slow step, then another, testing my balance. The ache spreads through my legs, muscles and bone protesting the movement, but it feels almost good. Pain means I'm still here, still capable of movement and fighting back.
I reach the window and brace my palms against the frame.
The wood is solid beneath my hands, slightly rough where the varnish has worn.
Outside, the world glows under a thin veil of frost. Pines glitter like they've been dusted with glass, each needle crystalline in the morning light.
The breath of winter lingers just beyond the glass, crisp and merciless.
The sky stretches endlessly above, in the particular shade of blue that exists only in the mountains.
Hope's somewhere out there, trapped in the dark while I stand here in the light. And I'm standing here, breathing air she can't reach, and feeling sunlight she can't see.
“I'll get you back,” I whisper, my voice cracking on the last word. The promise feels hollow, too big for my broken body to fulfill.
Vega limps closer, his gait still uneven from the bullet wound. He presses his body against my leg for balance, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my borrowed pajama pants. The solid warmth of him steadies me, anchoring me in the present moment.
I crouch, ignoring the protest from my ribs, and brush a hand along his fur. It's soft under my palm, thick and warm. “You saved me,” I murmur, my throat tight. “Now we save her.”
His ears flick. He lets out a soft, reassuring rumble, and for a second, the ache inside me eases, just a fraction but enough.
I rise again, slower this time, testing my balance.
I take another step, and the floorboard groans beneath my feet.
My reflection in the mirror looks ghostly, pale skin, tired eyes ringed with shadows, and my hair tangled from restless sleep.
The girl staring back doesn't look like someone who could outsmart a man like Ray or navigate the labyrinth of Luka's empire.
She looks like someone who should still be in bed, recovering, letting other people handle the hard choices. But she's all I have.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold together the pieces that keep threatening to fall apart. Luka's words echo in my head, looping endlessly. As long as there is a trail, I will follow it.
He believes he can find her. He believes he can fix everything with enough resources, manpower, and determination.
I want to believe him, I really do. His certainty is a pull I almost want to sink into, but every second I wait feels like permission for whatever’s happening to Hope to keep happening.
If I do nothing, if I rely on Luka’s men to chase a trail that might not even exist, Hope will be gone before they ever find her.
I close my eyes, listening to the clock on the wall tick in rhythm with my heartbeat, each second a countdown I feel in my bones. I won't let Luka's world destroy what's left of mine. If I have to walk the line between him and Ray to bring Hope back, then that’s what I’ll do, even if it breaks me.