Page 135 of Cashmere Cruelty

I couldn’t find anything. Petra reallywasa ghost. All I came up with was that Instagram account I managed to find before the wedding, and a word from an automatic translator.

Nightingale.

That’s exactly what Petra looks like as she fights: a bird, flying weightlessly through the air, swooping down at the last second to paint the snow red.

And her father still refuses to make her into avor? Fuck that. If it were up to me, I’d let her run the whole damn show.

Just as I’m thinking that, Petra whirls around to the third guy and throws a knife straight through his eye.

It’s the last body to drop. Lena and Julia have already taken care of the remaining two, sent to join their comrades on the floor. Ten assassins—all dispatched in less than five minutes.

Petra turns to me, slightly out of breath. “You okay there,koshka?”

I give a stunned nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Everybody else?”

Lena and Julia shrug in unison. “Good workout.”

“Bit hungry.”

“Great,” Petra says. “Get this mess cleaned up. We can get pizza later.”

The promise of food seems to be a powerful motivator. Just like that, the twins roll up their sleeves and get to work.

“Yura,” Petra says into her phone. I can’t make out anything else she says—it’s all in Russian.

Is she calling Yuri?I wonder.Why not Matvey?

But then I remember that I tried to call Matvey, too—and he didn’t pick up.

Bitterness wells up in my mouth. Wasn’t this a rule? That no matter when I called, he was going to answer me?

I turn away from the scene. Petra’s kills had a kind of glamor to them, but the twins stuffing bodies into trash bags is something I’d rather not have nightmares about.

“I’ll go make some coffins—coffee,” I blurt out. “Anybody want coffee?”

Three bloodied hands rise.

I start to prepare for three. Then I figure we’re gonna have company soon.Yuri. Grisha. Matvey.

I say fuck it and make a whole pot.

40

MATVEY

Vlad’s company is to die for.

Literally. I’m considering asking Grisha to just shoot me in the head to end my misery. When I saw the first bottle run out, I almost couldn’t help a sigh of relief.

Then Vlad ordered another.

And another.

And another.

Needless to say, the old man isn’t looking so sharp right now.

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