Page 95 of Maksim
“Weeks ago, before I paid off the organization and before your location was even discovered, Alik found out Daniel’s wife was making the ridiculous request that your family be murdered. I knew it wasn’t going to happen then, and it isn’t going to happen now.”
“You knew.” A bitter, dry laugh bubbles up my throat. “Are you psychic?”
“They’re in Albania.” He says it without the conviction needed to offer any level of comfort. Because regardless of how confident he was then, he isn’t so confident now.
“Then why are you sending someone to protect them?”
He opens his mouth but hesitates before speaking. “Because I don’t want to risk it.”
“Now,” I say, not quite sneering. Not with nearly the amount of bite I wish I had. “Now that we’re sleeping together, you don’t want to risk it. Before, you had no trouble.”
“There was no potential hit out before,” he counters. As if reminded of the fact, his eyes scan the road before finding the house. “We need to go. We can talk about this later.”
I give my head a slight shake before stepping toward the drive. I don’t know how I’m possibly going to get to Albania, but I know for certain I won’t stay here. “Be safe, Maksim.”
“Where are you going?”
I don’t answer.
“Elira, stop being proud and get back here.”
When I make it to the drive, I start toward the road, pulling out my phone.
“Lislchka.”
My chest squeezes hard enough that I put my hand over my heart, but I don’t stop. Ringing is loud in my ear, but when my mother’s voicemail plays, the world silences as panic slices me. I hang up and try again.
When I hear Maksim’s heavy feet shuffling down the drive, I pick up my pace.
“You know I can’t let you leave.”
“I’m not your prisoner,” I yell over the ringing.
Voicemail again.
“Then let’s talk.”
Hang up. Redial.
Voicemail.
“Elira.”
“You want to talk, Maksim?” I yell, whipping around and stabbing at my phone in frustration to hang up on my mother’s voicemail.
Talk.
As if this is something we can work through. As if there’s anything to salvage.
A half hour ago, he was talking about me leaving this place. He’s been putting measures in place, hinting at wanting me to go. When I first learned of him giving my family money, I thought it was… I thought it meant something different. It felt like love. Now it feels like he was paying to get rid of me.
And it’s worked.
But I don’t care about that anymore. I can’t. The only thing that matters is getting to my family somehow. Getting a hold of them. Warning them.
“While you were putting my family in danger, I was mending yours.” I take a step toward him and get the urge to slap him but keep my shaking hands at my sides, my phone tight in my grasp. Frustrated and scared tears blur his image.
“I cared for your sister from the day I met her. She’s a child. She…” I shake my head as my voice cracks. “Even when I hated you, even when I was ready to kill you, I never would’ve stood by while she was harmed. Never.”