Page 134 of One For my Enemy

“You’re not real,” she reminded him, and he made a sound; a little scoff ofthat’s not important right now, Sasha, pay attention,and carried on as if she’d said nothing.

“Listen, I always knew we were a long story,” he told her neutrally, “but I think even I underestimated it. Can you imagine, love after death? Even I couldn’t have guessed that. And I really thought I had an overactive imagination.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Lev—”

“I need to see you. Now, actually.”

She blinked, walking over to her window, and took a deep breath before glancing down.

Her stomach twisted. Nothing.

“You’re not here,” she said, frowning.

“Of course not, Sasha, I don’t know where you are.”

She blinked, realizing that was true. “Then what do you mean—”

“Tell me where to meet you. Tell me where you are.”

“Lev, I—”

What if it was a trick? She was tricking Roman. This would be precisely what she deserved.

“Meet me where we first met,” she said. “That first night, when you—”

“When I kissed you, yeah.” She could hear him grinning on the other side of the phone. “You’re testing me, aren’t you? You think I won’t remember, but I remember everything. Every detail. Test me all you want, Sasha Antonova,” he said with a laugh. “Believe me, I’ll pass.”

She shut her eyes.

“Two minutes,” she said, and hung up.

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing on the sidewalk outside the bar,The Misfit.Had it always been an omen? A sign? If any two things had never fit together, it was them. She hesitated, staring at the bar’s tinted windows, and then moved to walk inside, only to find a hand closing around her shoulder.

She whipped around, throwing a blind left hook as whoever it was promptly doubled over, stumbling backwards and swearing loudly.

“This,” her assailant sputtered, “isnotwhat happened, at least not to me—”

“Lev?”

The name slipped out without her permission as she slowly registered his presence, cataloguing him piece by piece. Same dark hair, same build, same look of restrained exasperation. She recognized him by his knuckles; by the motion of his fingers; by the way his gaze settled on hers with that look of,Sasha.

Sasha, really?

He straightened, one hand pressed to his eye.

“But it can’t be you,” she said, gaping at him, her sense of rationality suddenly at war with her eyes, and with her reprehensible longing to believe them. “Is this… did Bryn put you up to this?”

She was breathing hard, blatantly staring, and he slowly lowered his hand.

“Sasha,” said Lev, only it couldn’t be Lev.

Lev was gone.

Lev wasdead.

Wasn’t he?

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