Page 90 of Unspoken

Tomorrow, I'll have to talk to Sasha. Maybe persuade him to tell Vlad together. But for now, all I can do is lie here in the emptiness of the bed that’s a reminder of the young man who should be filling it.

As I drift into a restless slumber, Sasha's face haunts my dreams—those green eyes filled with fear, that gentle spirit. I reach for him, but he slips through my grasp, always just out of reach.

The shrill of my phone jolts me awake. My heart’s pounding against my rib cage as I fumble for the device, hoping to see Sasha's name on the screen, but instead, it’s Vlad. Immediately, all my senses come alive. I don’t know what time it is but I do know it’s dark out. Still, I feel like after my first shot of espresso in the morning when I hit theAnswerbutton.

"Logan." Vlad’s voice is cold, devoid of emotion. "I’m looking for Alexander. Has he talked to you today, stopped by maybe?"

I sit up, my mind racing. Why would Vlad think Sasha would stop by here?

Did he find out about us?

"No, he hasn’t," I reply, keeping my tone steady despite the pounding pulse. "Is everything alright?"

Vlad's silence is deafening. "He has not come home," he finally supplies. "I thought perhaps he might have contacted you."

Fear grips my chest, icy tendrils wrapping around my heart. I check the time and it’s almost two. And Sasha's somewhere out there. Without me. At this hour.

"Look, no, he hasn’t contacted me today. Did something happen?" I venture.

"Never mind," Vlad dismisses my question. "Goodnight, Mr. McKenna."

"Hold on," I blurt out, desperation clawing at my throat. "I can help search for him. Let me—"

"That won't be necessary," Vlad cuts me off, his words laced with finality. "It is your day off, after all. Sasha is just having another one of his fits. I will see you tomorrow."

The line goes dead, the quiet that follows claustrophobic. I stare at the phone, my mind spinning.

Does Vlad not care about his own brother?

Why wouldn’t he accept my help?

I try to call Sasha, but it goes straight to voicemail. Again and again, I dial his number, each unanswered ring a twist of the knife in my chest. I pull up the tracker app, but all I see the mockinglocation unidentified.

Fuck.

Does he know Vlad monitors him through his phone?

Did he ditch it on purpose or did he figure out how to turn off the app?

As the night drags on, sleep eludes me, my thoughts consumed by Sasha's face, his smile, that beauty mark on his cheek, the way his body fits perfectly against mine. The decision crystallizes in my mind, a glimmer of clarity amidst the chaos.

I won't wait for Sasha anymore. I'll march into that office tomorrow and turn in my resignation, consequences be damned.

The next morning when I report for work, I’m tired and weak from the lack of sleep. The words I’ve been rehearsing for Vlad are on my tongue, convoluted and not ready to come out. The mansion is like a fortress of cold stone and secrets as I approach. Suddenly unfamiliar. The air crackles with tension, an electric current of unease that sets my nerves on edge.

The first thing that stands out are the obvious armed men patrolling the grounds, their faces grim and eyes watchful. The usual stillness is replaced by what feels like a bustle of the military.

On the way inside, I stop a security guard with a familiar face. "Hey, any news about Sa—Alexander?"

He shakes his head, expression impassive. "No news."

My stomach twists into knots.

Ivan intercepts me at the door, his usually stoic, stony face creased with what looks a lot like worry. I never thought I’d see the guy expressing any kind of emotion. I always thought he was made of rock.

"Mr. Solovey needs to speak to you," Ivan drones out.

I nod and follow him.

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