Page 10 of Fight

“What happened here?” Anton said.

It was a question, but not really. Anton didn’t seem like the kind of person who asked questions without knowing the answers, and something told me he wasn’t seeking information. More than likely he was testing Markov, maybe Ioan. And I knew the answers would have consequences for me.

“Ioan got out of line,” Markov replied.

Anton looked at Ioan, his expression giving nothing away. Ioan’s didn’t either. He met Anton’s eyes head-on, his face and stance not defiant but not apologetic in any way.

“I kept Ciprian from doing something that would have ended up with a dead woman and lots of questions. And got him, and you, into a world of unwanted trouble,” Ioan said, responding to Anton’s unspoken question.

No talk of saving me from certain death, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. Anton, the new man, didn’t look at me, but I could tell that he was sizing me up nonetheless.

In that moment, I wished even harder that I could disappear. This man was powerful, and if he was here and able to get something that passed as respect from Markov, he was also dangerous.

“Markov, what is the meaning of this?” he asked.

Markov looked almost embarrassed for a split second, but he was soon back to his usual reptilian self.

“I had a small matter that needed to be attended to, and I saw an opportunity that would be beneficial for all of us,” he said.

Excluding me, another fact that I chose not to point out.

“How?” Anton asked. There was the faintest hint of displeasure in his stance, but whether that was good for me, I couldn’t say.

“I created a show, one that would have made me—us—a lot of money if Ioan had minded his own fucking business,” Markov said, his voice rising when he said Ioan’s name.

“By pitting this woman against Ciprian?” Anton asked. There was still no emotion in his voice, but the room seemed more tense suddenly.

“You must admit it’s a novel experience, Anton. A lucrative one,” Markov responded.

“It might be time for you to find new accommodations,” Anton said after a long moment.

“No. That’s not necessary, Anton. I appreciate that I may have…overstepped, but you have my personal guarantee that I will continue as is without further disruption,” Markov said, shaking his head.

The next few moments were so tense, I was breathless. Anton said nothing, but instinct told me this was a key moment for me, for the future I still hoped I had.

“We’ll discuss it. We’re done for tonight.”

When Anton finally spoke, my breath loosened from my chest, the air and relief filling me at the same time.

That relief was only momentary.

Markov gave another one of his oily smiles and then said to Anton, “There’s still an open matter.”

Ioan looked at me, the first time he’d acknowledged me in several minutes. That he did so proved I was likely the “open matter.” I locked eyes with his, searching, hoping, even though I knew better than to allow myself to do that.

He looked away, dashing the hope that I hadn’t been able to. Hope he revived again when he spoke next. “What open matter?”

His voice was like a warm blanket in the frosty winter, and more, it was my lifeline. I clung to it, ignoring the frown on Markov’s face, the question on Anton’s.

“There is the matter of what I’m owed, which is directly tied to what you are owed,” Markov said, looking at Anton and ignoring Ioan, and for once, me.

“Ciprian, would you leave us?”

It was Ioan who spoke, and Ciprian turned and walked away, his movements fluid, though he still seemed completely empty, robotic. Even without Markov’s pinched expression I knew that Ioan’s behavior was notable.

Markov had power.

Anton had power.

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