Page 55 of Ruthless Bonds

I sent a text to our group chat that included Solene, Mira, and Margot. There was too much to say, but I knew I couldn’t say any of it, so I settled on letting them know that Dove and I were OK, that I had a surprise for them, and I would call them in a few days.

Short and simple. The second I sent it, the chat exploded, and I closed out of the app. Was I being a chicken? Absolutely. I just didn’t want to get into it until I was ready. Besides, Gavriil had warned not to sayanything incriminating because we never knew who was listening. But I could guarantee Gavriil and Kreos were.

I also texted Dylan, asking if he was OK and telling him to call me. The text failed to deliver though, which made me rub my temples. Kreos had promised he wouldn’t hurt him. Had he lied? I would have to ask him tonight at dinner.

The art center was bustling with students and teachers, who all waved and said hello as I passed through the halls. Grig and Tash hadn’t been playing when they’d said I couldn’t leave their sight. They were on me like bees on honey the entire time.

The familiar scent of chemicals and paper greeted me when I pushed open the door to the darkroom. It was such a comforting smell that reminded me of all the times I’d brought Dove and Dylan here. They were fascinated by watching the images emerge from blank sheets like magic. They’d thought I was a wizard until they turned ten.

I gently unclipped from the drying line a photo of me and Dove from our “free day” and held it up to the red glow of the safelight. We were both smiling so big that I decided it was my favorite picture. I carefully stacked my prints and met Grig and Tash in the hallway.

“I just need to stop at the butcher’s shop for Dove—oh, and one more place. I’ll give you directions.”

Grig and Tash exchanged looks as we walked back to the car. “The Pakhan knows about this?”

I scoffed and nodded my head. “Well, of course, don’t be silly. I just need to pick up a few things from my old apartment is all. Important documents.”

They were having a silent conversation withtheir eyes that I didn’t like one bit. I leaned forward between the front seats and pointed at the coffee shop to distract them. “Who wants coffee? My treat. They have really good chocolate cake; we can get some and bring it back.”

That seemed to work because thirty minutes later we were sipping coffee and standing in front of my apartment. Grig walked ahead of us every step of the way, making sure of—well, I didn’t know what, but he was checking for something.

Once inside, my eyes landed on the spot where Dario’s body had been. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No blood or signs of any struggle. If anything, it looked cleaner than it ever had. Boxes of mine and Dove’s stuff were lined perfectly against the wall. It felt strange being here again, like I just didn’t belong there. A part of me worried that I might freak out being back in the place where I’d been attacked, but I felt—nothing. No fear, no panic. I just wanted to get my stuff and never look back.

I didn’t want Grig or Tash to question what I was doing, so I found a few boxes of Dove’s things that I knew she’d want and told Grig and Tash to take them to the car. They both scrunched up their faces, and I scowled at them.

“Guys, nobody is here. I’m going to be fine if you leave me alone for two minutes. Nothing is going to happen to me, and I’m definitely not going anywhere. So please, take the boxes for me. Dove needs them.” I used my firmest voice, which seemed to work. They each grabbed two boxes and took them downstairs.

I ran to the bathroom, shut the door, and slid the step stool over to the vent. My box was tucked awayinside, and I pulled it out and made sure everything was still there.

A noise from just outside the door had my ears perking up. Damn, were they already back? It seemed like only seconds had passed.

The doorknob jiggled and I rolled my eyes. “You guys need to chill—” The words died on my lips as I flung the door open and came face to face with Agent Greene.

My eyes widened in surprise. Her posture was stiff, and her arm was at her side, as if she was reaching for her weapon. “What are you doing here?”

“Alora, I’ve been looking all over for you.” She reached for me, but I stepped around her.

My legs felt like jelly as I set my box on the table next to Angus, my poor pothos plant that was not looking so good.Just keep it cool. She’s not looking for you because she knows you and Dove killed a man. Or any of the other felonies you’ve recently committed.

“Well, here I am.” I threw my hands up and offered a small smile. “But now is not a good time.”

Just leave before Grig and Tash come back and things get ugly.

She scoffed and sauntered over with her hands on her hips. “You know, your little friend Solene called me a few days ago terrified something had happened to you and Dove.”

“I’m sorry she bothered you. Dove and I went on a last-minute trip and didn’t tell anyone.” I shrugged and picked up my spray bottle, giving Angus a good mist.

“Well, you know what I found really interesting? When I put your name in the system, it came back tiedto Kreos Zokrov all of a sudden.” She stepped closer, watching me like a hawk. “Word on the street is he’s now engaged. To you.”

Well, shit. That had escalated quickly. How the hell would anyone know about me and Kreos already? That seemed impossible. Were the FBI always watching him this closely?

She needed to leave, and now, because I did not like where this conversation was headed. “My personal life is none of your business.” I kept my voice calm, in control, even though every muscle in my body was tense, ready for me to run out the room.

“Alora.” She grabbed my arm, her voice softer this time. “He’s a criminal mastermind. A monster in a suit. What does he have on you? You can tell me. I can help.”

A surge of defensive anger flared inside my chest, surprising me. Why did I feel the need to defend him all of a sudden when she was exactly right? Was this Stockholm syndrome? Damn, that Adonis belt had really done a number on me this morning.

She leaned in closer, her voice lowering. “We can help each other. We’ve been trying to build a case against him for years, but it always crumbles. Witnesses vanish, evidence disappears, files go missing. We’re left grasping at straws. But if he’s forced you into marriage, and you’re obviously moving in with him”—she looked around at all the boxes—“then you can get the evidence we need. You’re a photographer. It could work. You could be our key to finally nailing him.”

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