Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Unless she’s thinking I shouldn’t have run away from my husband, her thoughts are irrelevant.
This is a game. I feel like a cat playing with a mouse, letting it run just until it gets to a point of near safety—before I smack my paw on its little tail and drag it back to me, squealing, before I feast.
You can run, little mouse.
Run as fast as you can.
My dick throbs, and my mouth goes dry.
I’ll catch you.
And when I do…
Their car comes to a stop ahead. They’re getting out.
I wait a few blocks behind them before I follow.
Chapter 9
ANYA
“Are you sure no one followed us?” I ask Ophelia. I don’t trust that I got away that easily from Semyon.
I don’t trust anything to do with him.
“Babe, no one followed us. Did you see how fast and recklessly I drove? That was on purpose.”
She actually looks offended when I huff out a laugh.
“This time, alright? That way, if anyone was following us, we lost them.”
I look behind me and see nothing but inky darkness. At this point, I don’t care if he had me followed. All that matters is that Stefan is safe.
As soon as I got the news from Ophelia, I sounded the alert with the small group of tight-knit friends I’ve made in my neighborhood. We’re all just trying to make ends meet, each of us navigating our own struggles while watching each other’s backs.
Lena, the local grocery store owner with a houseful of kids and a huge heart, responded first.
Lena
I’ll look around. I’m so sorry I haven’t seen him. Is the story of what I heard about you true? Everyone knows someone, we’ll find him
Marco, the bartender who knew half the city’s occupants, poured drinks, and collected whispers like currency.
Marco
Don’t worry, we’ll find him. Little kid like him would stand out. Hang in there.
Finally, it was Viktor, the barber whose shop was adjacent to mine, who gave me a tip.
Viktor
I think I saw him in the shop earlier? Not long ago. I think he was hiding out but needed a place to get out of the rain.
So to the shop we went. I cast one last look into the sheets of rain behind us before I opened the door.
“If he’s here, I’m going to shake him til his teeth rattle as badly as mine do.” Ophelia shivers, tugging her soaked sweater tighter around her curvy frame. She wouldn’t harm a hair on Stefan’s head, but I didn’t blame her. “And will you stop looking around like your Bratva batboy’s gonna come out like a vampire and suck your blood? God.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know what he’s like,” I mutter, my hands trembling as I slide the key into the lock. It’s crooked and freezing, so it takes a full minute before I’m able to unlock the door and head inside.
To anyone else, this place would look vacant. But I know the telltale signs of a sneaky little boy who has a penchant for trouble and a taste for sweets.
The front display case is open, and a row of cookies is missing. I never leave the display case open, and I always fill it before we close for the night.
I narrow my eyes and look around the shop.
“Stefan?” I ask, flicking my phone’s flashlight on. I don’t want to alert anyone outside that we’re in here. “Are you in here? The sooner you confess, the less trouble you’ll be in.”
No answer. But the fridge door is slightly ajar, and a wad of napkins still sits on the steel top of the kneading table.
“Stefan,” I say warningly.
“Hey!” Ophelia yells into the store. “We know you’re in here. Don’t tell me I risked my life kidnapping your sister and driving in a storm just so I could make myself fat on your sister’s cinnamon rolls and drown my grief in vanilla icing!”
I snort and shake my head.
“Drown your grief?” I mouth, still panting from running in here.
I turn my head sharply, straining to listen. Did I hear something? What was that? I scan the shop, but there’s no sign of movement. Still, my brother is young and clumsy, and I know he’s in here.
“Stefan,” I call, my voice low and warning—the tone I use when he’s in trouble and I need to sound motherly. I hate when he makes me do this. “If you don’t come out…” I trail off, unsure of what to threaten him with because I never like making threats.
Finally, the door to the large freezer creaks open.
“Stefan!” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice. He knows he’s not allowed in there. It’s an old freezer, and if the door shuts from the inside, he could freeze to death. That’s been drilled into his head a hundred times. He’s never been allowed in there.
Barely able to catch my breath, I grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard enough to make him stumble.