Page 40 of Unrequited
I swallow, my belly plunging straight to the floor.
“Okay. All right. What are you telling me?” I ask her.
“This is what you need to do.” She’s all mission now. No hesitation. No apology.
“You’re right. If your brothers know there’s going to be an attack at the bar, they’re going to show up, guns blazing. But I’m telling you, this is bigger than they know. Bigger than theythink. And you cannot hold them back. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My skin feels clammy, my pulse a desperate thud against my throat. I’m shaking.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I think I know.”
“You’re going to lie to them, Zoya.” Her voice is steel. No room for discussion.
I nod to myself, swallowing.
“Have you ever lied to your brothers before?”
Only every Thursday night, I think bitterly. But I don’t say it.
“Yeah,” I say truthfully. “Not… often.”
“Then you're going to have to give it your very best shot. Best if you do it by phone. Or text. Don’t let them see your face. Don’t let them read your body language. You hear me?”
I nod again, even though she can’t see me. “Yes.”
“You’re going to send them to the warehouse near Anya’s bakery. It's empty. Vacant. But they won't know that. You're going to tell them that’s where the danger is. You're going to make it real.Undeniable.You cannot suggest it. You cannothintat it. You have to make them believe it’s theonlyoption. Do you understand?”
My stomach is acid. My throat feels like it’s closing. But I whisper, “Yes. Yes, I do. Please tell me what to do.”
“You’re going to get them the hell out of their houses. All of them. Send them to the warehouse. It’s far enough from the Wolf and Moon. Then you’re going to stay. Let the Irish do whatever the fuck they’re planning at that bar, but your family will be nowhere to be found. Got it?”
“Yes,” I whisper. My nerves are threadbare.
“All right,” she says. “I’m going to do what I can from here. And you, Zoya, you beveryfucking careful. Do you understand?” she repeats.
“Yes. Okay. Thank you,” I stammer. “What do I owe you?”
“Just stay safe,” she says. Her voice softens and cracks just a little. “I know how bad these stakes are. I know what’s at risk. Please, Zoya—stay safe.”
And then she hangs up.
I’m staring at my phone.
I choke on a dry sob. My chest heaves, then I draw in a deep breath.
I call Rafail first.
Her words are still ringing in my head.Make it compelling. Don’t suggest. Don’t hint. Make them know.
I’m crying by the time he answers, which honestly helps.
“Rafail.” My voice is broken. Ragged.
And I lie. Through my goddamn teeth, I lie.
I make up the best fucking story I can. The one that will get him out.
“They’re gone,” I whisper. “Gone.There was an attack on the warehouse. You have to go.Please.They’re all gone. All of them, Rafail. Rodion. Semyon. Matvei. All of them.”
