Page 77 of Inferno

“I drew you and me.”

“I love it. I can put it in my special notepad.”

She looks up at me.

“Can you tell me what my daddy looks like?”

I sigh and sit cross-legged on the floor next to her. Vlad wants nothing to do with her, so I told her the truth that he isn’t her daddy as soon as I thought she could comprehend it.

I never wanted her to think her father could be so evil.

I feel sorry for her, never being able to leave this house. But it’s best for everyone she’s kept a secret, much like I am. Vlad is scared of Tatiana; that is something I am sure of, that is why our lives rest on the fact she does not know we are here. To her, I’m just a childless contract killer. She has no idea what her brother is really up to. That alone keeps us alive.

The second she does find out, we die. That is the agreement Drago managed to secure with Vlad. And that is why we have to find an alternative.

Drago’s influence and power between the siblings has been enough to keep us alive, but for how much longer, I don’t know.

“How about I draw him with a pencil in my special journal?” I ask her.

I wonder what Jimmy looks like now.

Sometimes I wonder if she would be better off with him and just let me rot here.

But then she smiles at me and she keeps me alive.

Grabbing the black leather pad I keep in a draw, it’s how I make notes of important contacts, dates, names. Anything I can use.

And it’s locked up in Isabella’s school room. We can’t leave the property, so Drago has become responsible for her learning, on top of keeping tabs on me. A pain shoots through my chest. He never asked for this life. He stumbled on me in the basement and ever since has held the burden.

“Did someone say numbers?” Isabella’s bright blue eyes light up when Drago’s voice booms through the room.

“Mommy said I can fight after!” Isabella sasses back.

I sheepishly turn to face him, and he raises a brow.

“Did she now? And is Mommy in a fit state to fight?” He tilts his head. He’s worried about me. I know that.

I almost lost my mark last week. My task has been to remove any remaining men that were once part of Ivan Volkov’s army. It’s safe to say a few of them know how to fight, and I got caught between a wall and a knife.

Instinctively, I rub on my sore wrists. This is not helping.

“I’m always ready.”

He nods, stepping past me and crouching next to Isabella.

“How about you go get the whiteboards and pens, sit at the table and wait for me? I just have to speak to Mommy real quick.” He taps her shoulder, and she nods, jumping off her little seat.

I wait for her to be out of earshot.

“Talk to me about?” I ask, pushing my feet into frog pose to try to relieve some tension in my hips.

“A job.”

I shrug. The usual.

“Anything interesting?” I ask, almost uninterested. I’d rather be here, homeschooling Isabella and plotting my escape.

“We need to talk in private later.” The vein on his temple protrudes. That’s never a good sign.

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