Page 195 of Emerald Malice

But Misha presses his bleeding shoulder back, wincing only slightly, and meets Andrey’s eyes. Neither one says a word.

I jump in between them. “Andrey?—”

He doesn’t look at me, but he does hold up a hand. Despite myself, I fall silent. He’s radiating a dangerous energy and it’s impossible to ignore.

“Why?” he snarls.

“She was up to something,” Misha says evenly. “I don’t trust her.”

Shura places a pillow under Yelena’s head and straightens up to look over at the confrontation unfolding before us. “She’s been with us a lot longer than you, boy.”

Misha whirls around, glaring indignantly between Andrey and Shura. “That doesn’t make her trustworthy. She accused me of being a spy, but I think she’s the spy.”

“Why do either of you have to be a spy?” I cry out. “Misha, you misunderstood what was happening, okay? This is all just a big, stupid mistake!”

“She was trying to get you to leave!” Misha insists, blowing my cover in one simple sentence. “She was trying to smuggle you out of here. Why would she do that when this is the safest place for you?”

My jaw falls open as every pair of eyes in the room swivels to me. I find myself grappling for words, searching desperately for an alibi.

“Nat…” Leonty’s voice is soft and disbelieving. “Is that true?”

Yelena stirs and Misha looks at her with disgust. He’d kill her right now if we let him.

“It was my idea to leave,” I choke out. “If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me.”

Leonty is the only one who looks remotely shocked by my admission. Shura and Andrey are expressionless.

“I still don’t trust her!” Misha exclaims, breaking the tense silence. “She was always whispering and creeping around at weird hours. I saw her talking to someone on a phone in the laundry room once. She got mad when she saw me there.”

My stomach roils. Andrey sees the discomfort on my face and scowls. “What is it, Natalia?”

“I… uh… it could be nothing.” Swallowing hard, I glance at Yelena, who’s moaning softly on the couch, not quite conscious yet. “She just… She never liked me coming into the laundry room. She claimed it was because of all the chemicals.”

Andrey and Shura exchange a glance, having a silent conversation. A moment later, Andrey points his chin and Shura nods, disappearing through the open archway in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’m not lying,” Misha insists. “And I’m not a spy. I just?—”

“It’s okay, Misha,” Andrey interrupts. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Let me be clear: I believe you’re not a spy. I believe that you believe everything you just told us.” Andrey’s eyes are still cold. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Misha’s shoulders slump. He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can say anything, Shura enters the living room.

He’s carrying a small, black phone in his hand.

“I found this stashed at the back of the laundry cabinet,” he says darkly.

I feel like I’m going to be sick. I glance down at my wrist and see the bruises Yelena left there. Five purple ovals marking my skin.

“Anything on there?” Andrey asks.

“Only one outgoing call on the contact log. It was placed about forty-five minutes ago.”

“Call the number,” Andrey orders.

Shura dials and transfers the call to speaker. The rings echo harshly, magnified in the taut stillness. And then, someone picks up.

---