Page 9 of One For my Enemy

Stas was enraptured by the thought. Marya, however, was less so.

“I don’t think that’s wise, Stas.” She paused, wondering how many times they could have this conversation in different forms. “We’re not safe. I can never guarantee our safety, I never will. Even now, the Fedorovs will come for me, for my sisters, and when they do, how will I—howcouldI—?”

She faltered a little, biting down on the unbearable.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of putting our child in danger,” she finished uneasily, and he nodded slowly, reluctantly, but with softness.

“I love you, Marya Antonova,” Stas promised her. “When the time is right, together, I swear, we’ll keep our family safe.”

She nodded slowly. It was their usual détente:Someday.Not today, but someday.

“I love you,” she said as Stas gathered her in his arms, though she didn’t close her eyes. She forced them to remain open, guarded, sharp; watchful of her husband’s back, and vigilant of her sister’s future.

Marya Antonova forced herself to remain everything that she did not feel as she blinked away her mind’s portrait of Dimitri Fedorov’s face; once with his chin tilted up in sunlight, speaking quietly in her ear, and then again, his face pressed to the bloodied floor as he called out to her, voiceless and pleading:Masha, Masha, Masha.

I. 7

(Not Your Business.)

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” Lev hissed at Roman. “Wander around trying to buy drugs from college students, really? I’m not exactly equipped for this task, and just because Ihappento be the right age—”

“Our brother is lying in a bed half-dead because of Yaga and her daughters,” Roman cut in angrily, rounding on him. “Is it really so much to ask that you try to ingratiate yourself so we can be sure?”

“Roma,” Lev growled. “This is ridiculous.Surelythere is a better way—”

“Well, there isn’t,” Roman interrupted, giving Lev a shove. “Try there,” he added, gesturing inside a bar calledThe Misfit.“My source said to stick with this block, but be careful. Yaga’s informants float around here—don’t draw attention to yourself, Levka. Just stick to the shadows and keep your ears open.”

“Great,” Lev muttered. “Blend in, but uncover details. What a delightfully unspecific task.”

“Don’t sass me, brother,” Roman warned, giving his shoulder another shove. “Have a drink. Chat up some students. It’s not too difficult a task.”

“Fine,” Lev growled, glaring over his shoulder as he wandered in, finding the bar already unpleasantly noisy and crowded. It was perhaps ten o’clock—late enough for a crowd, certainly, but early enough that it wasn’t too sloppy—and he slid a gaze around with loathing, hoping to keep the evidence of it from his face.

“Hey,” he called to the bartender, concealing the motion of his fingers as he cast a brief attention charm. “Two fingers of Maker’s, please,” he requested, shifting beside a young-looking girl who was already stumbling as the bartender nodded, turning away. Lev exhaled, waiting, and then glanced around the room again, getting jostled slightly from an elbow on his left.

“Whoa, sorry dude—geez, you’re all over the place—”

“Let go of me,” came a clear, distinctly angry female voice. “Eric, I don’t want another drink,I’m fine—”

Lev blinked, startled, as the ferociously distressed girl whipped around, her dark hair trailing in waves that fell nearly to her waist. Her grey-blue eyes narrowed as she glanced at Lev, clearly unapologetic, but she hadn’t dragged her frustration away from the blond who seemed to be pursuing her, one of his hands wrapped loosely around her wrist.

“Sorry,” the guy she’d called Eric offered to Lev, sparing him a conspiratorial shrug. “We’re fine.”

“Look, I’ve been trying to get you to focus on the project for the lasthour,” the girl spat, rounding on him. “I don’t want another beer, I want to leave—now,if you don’t mind—”

“Sasha, come on, we’re just getting started—”

“Hey,” Lev said, watching the blond’s fingers tighten around the girl’s (Sasha’s) wrist. “She said she wants to leave, man. Let her leave.”

Immediately, both heads snapped towards him.

“Hey look, bro, stay out of it—”

“I don’t needyour help,” Sasha said, glaring at Lev. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” Lev informed her, opting to ignore the blond’s stilted protests altogether, “but I really don’t know what kind of person that makes me if I just stand here and permit you to continue elbowing me every couple of seconds.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha said impatiently. “Just take your drink and go,” she advised, gesturing to the waiting bartender. “I’ve got this.”

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