Page 14 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

We shut the door behind us.That was the deal—privacy in a two-bedroom shared apartment meant doors stayed closed, and secrets stayed inside them.

We sat on the bed, Vera cross-legged, me leaning against the wall.She took a sip and gave me that look again.Patient.Knowing.A look only someone who’s seen you at your worst can manage without judgment.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I said finally.

Vera didn’t react.Just waited.

“It’s ridiculous.We just met.He barely talks.He eats like the cafeteria might disappear if he blinks.”

“But?”

“But I can’t remember the last time someone got under my skin like this.”

She tilted her head.“Since Mikhail?”

My heart twisted at the name.I hadn’t spoken it out aloud in years.

“I was what—thirteen?”I laughed softly.“Back then, I didn’t even know what I was feeling.Just that every time he looked at me, it was like...”

“Like music?”she guessed.

I met her eyes, startled.

“How did you—”

She smiled gently.“You told me about it once, how you knew Mikhail was your first love.You said being around him was like living inside a cello.”

I exhaled through my nose.“It’s happening again.”

Vera blinked.

“Whenever Dimitri’s near me...there’s music.Not loud.Not like an actual song.Just...something.Low and constant.Like I’m sitting near an orchestra warming up.”I gave a helpless laugh.“I just met him.What the hell is that about?”

She set her mug down and reached for my hand, squeezing it.“That, my dear husband, is romance.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t have one.

We sat in silence for a few beats, just the hum of the radiator filling the space.

Then she let go of my hand and leaned back, more serious now.

“Petyr,” she breathed.“Don’t mess this up.”

My eyes met hers.

“I mean it.We’ve got a good thing.A roof over our heads.Jobs.People who leave us alone.We’re careful.Remember, Dimitri works with us, and others might notice if…”

“You don’t have to spell it out for me,” I interrupted.

She reached out and touched my cheek.“I want you to be happy.You know that.But not if it gets you sent to a labor camp.Or worse.”

ChapterFive

Dimitri

The train groaned to a stop like it hated me.I stepped off with the rest of the evening crowd and started the walk toward home, hands shoved deep into my coat pockets.The air was sharp enough to bite, and the sidewalks were slick with the kind of snow that never quite melts, just smears.

My boots thudded in a steady rhythm, but my thoughts kept swirling.

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