Page 8 of His Hold

Yet.

Chapter 3

Katya

It’s a chilly afternoon, and my usual coffee shop, Moonbeans, is busier than normal. The smell of freshly baked pastries is comforting, even if the crowded tables aren't. I had a long day at work, and I just want to go home and relax.

I slip into the line behind a woman who's absorbed by her phone, shifting her weight impatiently from foot to foot. The barista hands me my coffee, Americano, and smiles like I'm a regular, even though we barely know each other’s names. As I step aside, scanning for an empty spot, someone calls out from behind.

"Katya? Oh my God, is that you?"

I turn quickly, nearly spilling coffee down my sweatshirt. My sister's best friend from college. I haven't seen her since Irina disappeared.

“Emily?”

She laughs warmly, stepping forward to hug me tightly. It feels strange and comforting, but alien, being hugged by someone who knew Irina so well.

"I almost didn't recognize you with the red streaks. How’ve you been?" Emily asks, squeezing my shoulder gently before pulling away.

"Fine, just fine. And you?"

Emily nods, her eyes searching mine. “Good, busy with work.” Her voice softens suddenly. “I think about Irina all the time. I still miss her, you know. We all do.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling a pinch deep in my chest. “Me too. Are you back for good?”

“No, just flew in for a wedding. I should be back in Europe by the weekend. I’m really sorry about your sister. I was pregnant when the whole thing happened, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you needed me.”

God, I’m tired of people being sorry. Their pity, I’m here if you need anything, as if words could rewind time and bring her back. As if their concern wasn’t already too late.

“It’s fine. What’s done is done.”

"I know, I just wish I could’ve done more.” Emily’s voice cracks. “The police never found anything?”

"Nothing." I wrap my hands around my coffee cup. "Sometimes I wake up thinking she'll call any minute."

"Yeah, I know the feeling.” Emily shifts to hold her purse strap, which is slipping from her shoulder. “Look, this is probably too late, but I can’t keep pretending I didn’t notice something. Maybe it could’ve helped the police. Maybe it could help you.”

I narrow my eyes in confusion before she goes on.

She looks around, dropping her voice. “It’s been five years, but I remember those last weeks so clearly. You were out of the country with your mom, so you wouldn’t know. But Irina... she was different. Secretive.”

I lean forward. "What do you mean?"

"Well...It’s weird. Just before she vanished, Irina was different. Happier, I guess. And kept more to herself, too. Did she ever talk to you about the new guy?”

My stomach twists knowing where this was already going. “Irina wasn’t seeing anyone new. She’d been with Andrew for years.” I knew about her affair, but I’d rather my sister be remembered in a good light if she’s dead, than as a cheater.

“No, not Andrew. Someone else,” Emily insists, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “I saw them together, Katya. Twice. The first time was a few weeks before she disappeared. They were at that new Mediterranean place on Fifth. The way she looked at him... I’d never seen her like that.”

"What did he look like?" My mind goes back to the last conversation Irina and I had before I left. It appears there was indeed someone else my sister was seeing, but I never knew it would tally with the time she disappeared.

"Tall, built like a fighter. Good-looking. Black hair usually tied back. Intimidating but... There was something about him. The kind of man your mother warns you about. But—” she pauses, trying to find the right word, "dangerous-looking. Like trouble.”

My pulse quickens, but I keep my expression calm. “Are you sure?”

"Positive," she says firmly. " The second time was the day before she disappeared, at that art gallery downtown. He barely left her side. Protective, maybe possessive. I was so busy handling my husband’s sales, I barely had time to say hi. But from a distance, you could tell something was... off.”

My phone feels like a dead weight in my pocket. "Would you recognize him if you saw a picture?"

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