Page 138 of Cashmere Ruin

I whip out my gun and slam the grip into the back of Anatoly’s head. “No, thankyou.”

He goes down like a puppet with strings cut. He’s not dead, of course: that would defeat the purpose.

“What the hell?!” Yuri rushes over. “That wasourman!”

“Yes. And he’s a spy.”

“How can you know that?”

I lean back against the wall. “Think, Yura. If you were Carmine, would you sabotage another acquisition? Or would you use it to destroy your enemy?”

Realization dawns in my brother’s eyes. “So that’s why you did this? You set up the one that would ‘win’?”

“I did. Whoever’s working against us would, naturally, also work against the other team. And now, we know thereissomeone working against us: whatever this is, it didn’t die with Ivan. There’s a mutiny.”

“But… it could’ve been a coincidence!” he protests. “Just because he lost, it doesn’t mean?—”

“Really?” I cut in. “You think last-minute mystery buyers come along every other day?” I scoff. “Think again, brother. This is Carmine we’re up against. If we want to beat him, we need to be one step ahead of him.”

For a long time, he stays silent. “This is crazy,” he says finally.

I massage my temples. “Fucking tell me about it.”

“What are we gonna do with him?”

I glance at the passed-out recruit on the floor. “Take him to the warehouse. I want him to tell us everything he knows.”

Your move, Carmine.

42

APRIL

Ever since I won the contest, I’ve been walking on air. I still can’t believe it: next year, I’ll be going to the Mallard Institute of Fashion.Me.

I keep pinching myself, but I don’t wake up.

On top of that, my work at the factory has been nothing but smooth sailing. Professor Simmons and Dr. Reznikov are amazing at what they do, and the rest of the team seems to have been handpicked with excellency in mind. The best of the best.

Finally, I can count myself among them.

When I came back with the happy news, Elias was ecstatic. He insisted on taking pictures of me with the giant check. “To make memories,” he said. I then texted it to Petra, who texted back with the picture of a broken bottle of vodka and the word “POZDRAVLJAJU” in all caps, which was confusing. But Matvey assured me it wasn’t a threat, so we’re good… I think.

I haven’t broken the news to my other friends yet. I want it to be a surprise.

“What are you going to sign your line as, Ms. Flowers?” I ask myself, mimicking the voice of an imaginary interviewer. “Flowers Fashion? April Delight? Clothes A.F.? Wait, on second thought, scratch that. How about?—”

I’m interrupted by the doorbell. “Heard that, May? We have visitors.”

Lately, I’ve been trying to talk to her more. Helps with development and all that. I can tell by her inquisitive little face that she’s got a lot to say—the sooner she learns how to say it, the better. Though I’m definitely gonna miss Potato Mode.

“Coming!” I put May down in her crib and rush to the door. “Is that you, Grisha? I fixed your jacket last night. It’s…” The words die in my throat.

Because that’s not Grisha at the door.

“Sweetie! It’s been too long!”

It’s my mother.

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