Page 19 of Avidian
Orin sneers, “Soon, I’ll be cutting back on your meals if you don’t start pulling your weight—or maybe I’ll have them switch you to the synthetic rations they hand out in the gutter zones.” The girl flinches, looking even smaller as he pushes past her, slamming the door behind him.
The gutter zones are where people go to disappear—or where they’re sent when they’re no longer useful. Crumbling buildings, stagnant air, and the stench of desperation cling to every corner. It’s not a place you survive; it’s where you wait to be forgotten.
I throw my hands up, waving Orin off as if it’s no big deal. “What’s your name?” I ask before she can disappear.
She fidgets nervously, her eyes darting to the door.
“Kira,” she says softly.
I offer her a small smile, trying to put her at ease. The last thing I need is to spook her before I can ask questions. “Did you know Carmen?”
Her head dips slightly. “Yes, very well.”
I nod, studying her carefully. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She shifts uncomfortably, her hands twisting behind her back. I need to keep this casual or she’ll bolt.
“Did you know Damien too?” I reach for the sandwich on the tray and take a bite.
“Not well,” she says quickly.
I suppress a sigh, annoyed at her short answers but not ready to push too hard. “Were they together romantically?”
Her nose wrinkles in visible disgust. “Oh no, Carmen had a boyfriend. I don’t know who he was, but she was always sneaking off to see him. It wasn’t Damien—she would never...” Kira appears to shiver.
I lower the sandwich and watch her carefully. That reaction says a lot more than her words. “Why do you say that? Did she dislike Damien?”
Kira hesitates, biting her lip before replying. “It’s not that. She...knew what he was like. Everyone did. He wasn’t...” She pauses, struggling with how to put it. “He wasn’t a good man.”
Her tone leaves no room for doubt, and my mind starts turning. If Carmen had a secret boyfriend, someone important enough to sneak away for, why hasn’t he come up before? And why would Damien end up in her room—her bed—if she’d never associate with him? None of this is adding up.
“Kira,” I say gently, “do you know anything else? I need help to understand what happened to Carmen and Damien.”
Her eyes dart to the door again, and I know I’m losing her. “I don’t know much, miss. She was scared sometimes and talked about leaving. But she never said why.”
Carmen was scared and planning to leave? That doesn’t sound like a cook who was content with her life—or someone who should have been anywhere near Damien.
“Thank you, Kira,” I say, offering a smile. “If you think of anything else, will you let me know?”
She nods quickly, her relief palpable as she hurries to the door. Before she steps out, she pauses and glances back at me. “Miss...be careful.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me alone with more questions than ever. Carmen had a boyfriend. She was scared. And Damien was as one would expect, given he’s a Volkov.
I need to remind myself of the priorities here—Viktor and Marco don’t care about Carmen. They didn’t bring me here to solve her murder. They want to know who killed Damien, and the fact that Carmen died alongside him? Collateral damage in their eyes. The help around here doesn’t matter to them.
But are they one and the same? That’s the question. The vision I saw through Carmen makes me think they are. Whoever was watching in the doorway that night is the key. Could it have been Damien and Carmen’s murderer? Or was it someone who decided to look the other way?
Still, something about Carmen doesn’t sit right. Maybe she’s not as innocent in all of this as she seemed. That look of disgust Kira gave when I mentioned Damien sticks with me. Did Carmen lie about her relationship with him? Maybe she was sneaking off to see him, not her supposed boyfriend. What if she was cheating? And what if someone found out? Maybe her boyfriend caught her that night and killed them both in a fit of rage.
It makes sense...doesn’t it?
If that’s true, then Carmen’s mystery boyfriend is my number-one suspect right now. I need to figure out who he is—and where he is. But that won’t be easy, not in this house where every whisper carries a secret and every look feels like a challenge.
I lean back in my chair, running a hand along Mischka while I eat my turkey sandwich. I replay the scraps of information I have. He’s out there somewhere, the boyfriend—or whoever Carmen was sneaking off to see. And if he’s involved, he either killed them or knows something that will unravel this whole mess.
Either way, I’ll find him. The truth has a funny way of coming to light when you dig deep enough—and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.
“What the hell are you doing?” Malachi’s voice startles me, breaking through the silence of the room. I whirl around from the window, dropping my hand to my side. Mish vanishes instantly.
How long has he been standing there? I was so distracted that I didn’t hear him come in.
