Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“You’re not trying to run anymore,” I tell her, letting her know that I’ve noticed.
“What’s the point?” She shrugs. “You were more than happy to remind me that Mikhail is searching the streets for me. If I tried to run, I’d just be going from one captor to the other.”
“Is that really all this is?” I ask.
She finally looks up, narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s your problem?” she shoots back, the tiniest spark finally in her eyes. “You made it very clear a long time ago that there’s no point in running. Now you’re mad that I’m not trying?”
“I’m not mad,” I tell her calmly. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m not yours to worry about,” she spits.
There it is. The fire is still there.
That night, I sit at the kitchen table with intelligence reports spread out in front of me. Sergei has flagged three names of men who have been seen speaking with Grinkov’s soldiers more often than usual. One of them is tied to a warehouse in Sheepshead Bay.
If that warehouse flips, we lose a shipping lane. I mark it for immediate attention. Anya enters quietly and pours herself a glass of water.
“You look busy,” she says mildly.
“I am,” I confirm, not looking up at her.
“War has that effect,” she says calmly.
“We aren’t at war,” I state. “Mikhail is just posturing. I’m not terribly worried about it.”
She studies me over the rim of her glass.
“Do you really think you can outlast him?” she asks. “Do you think that, at the end of the day, he’s just going to give up on me and move on? His pride is way too big for that. It’s been over a month and he hasn’t stopped his assaults. How do you see this playing out?”
“I haven’t really thought it through to the end,” I answer honestly, rubbing my eyes to stave off an impending headache.
“Maybe you need to start,” she says tensely. “For both of our sakes. We can’t stay in this place indefinitely. This isn’t a life.”
“Is that why you’ve been so distant?” I ask, meeting her gaze.
“How can I possibly be distant when I’m locked in a house with you?”
“You know what I mean,” I say, eyeing her. “You’re emotionally distant.”
“When exactly were we close?” She laughs, but the sound is off. It’s too tight and tense, like she’s been caught in a lie.
“I can think of at least one time,” I say, smirking at her.
“That was a mistake,” she snaps, her face growing stormy. “And it will never happen again.”
I just nod and turn back to my reports. “Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” I say, not looking back up at her. “Now, unless you’re going to help me go through these reports, I’d recommend you stop distracting me.”
It’s bait and we both know it. In the past, she would plop herself down and try to annoy me until I gave up and went back into my control room. Now, she just nods and walks back to the stairs, to disappear into her room again.
12
ANYA
Viktor’s made the coffee too strong again. It burns going down, bitter and overdone, but I drink it anyway. I need the caffeine after another bad night of sleep and an early morning of sickness. I know it’s not the best for baby, but I limit myself to one small cup a day. I just wish he’d get us an actual cook if he’s planning on keeping us here indefinitely.
Viktor is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his overly strong coffee and reading something on his phone. I open the fridge and take out a carton of eggs. I shut it harder than necessary, because he seems to think I’ve gotten too quiet. I would’ve thought that would make him happy, but he seems to be concerned by my lack of disrespect.
“You’re up early,” Viktor says gently.
“Yeah, well lack of physical and mental stimulation doesn’t exactly lend itself to good sleep,” I answer truthfully.
He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t do that thing men like Mikhail do where they pretend they’re amused so you feel small for having a backbone. I turn my back to him as I scramble up some eggs and put some bread in the toaster. I purposely ignore him the whole time, making a show of it. He doesn’t deserve peace anyway.
When my food is ready, I plate it and sit down across from him. He’s still reading on his phone, also making a point not to look at me. I swear, though, when I look down to take a bite of my food, I can feel him watching me. I look up, hoping to catch him in the act, but he’s still looking at his phone.
We eat without speaking, and it’s strange how comfortable it feels. There’s no tension at all, and I realize with mild horror that we’ve settled into a routine.