Page 8 of Toxic Salvation
More than I’ve ever been able to give him.
“She’s not his mother,” I growl.
“She was the closest thing he’s ever had to one.” Pavel is solemn now, which somehow makes it all that much worse. “And you took that away from him.”
Osip clears his throat. “You want my advice?”
“No.”
He continues anyway. “Get a cryptanalysis team on these files. Someone with pro software and actual expertise.” He taps the coded documents. “And maybe consider that the kid might know what he’s talking about.”
After Osip leaves, Pavel and I stare at each other across the room.
“There’s a war coming,” I finally say in answer to the question he never even asked. “Ihor isn’t going to let this go. I can’t afford distractions.”
“Luka isn’t a distraction. He’s our blood, Ko.” Pavel plants his elbows on his knees. “And so is she, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“She made her choice when she tried to expose us.”
“She made her choice when she tried to save kids from having their organs harvested,” he retorts. He stands up, venturing closer. “A.k.a., the same thing you’ve been trying to do for months.”
“That’s different.”
“No, Kovan, it’s not.” He’s close enough now that I can see the anger burning in his eyes. “You’re scared. You found something real with her and it terrified you, so you sabotaged it before she could leave first.”
I grab the front of his shirt and haul him closer. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Or what? You’ll beat the shit out of me for telling the truth?” Pavel doesn’t flinch. “Go ahead, brother. Won’t change the fact that you’re miserable. Won’t change the fact that Luka cries himself to sleep every night asking for her.”
My grip tightens on his shirt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you haven’t slept more than three hours at a time since she left. I know you’ve been drinking more and eating less. I know you look like death warmed over.” Some of his anger fades away. “You’re dying in the darkness, man. You’re killing yourself.”
“I don’t want to know about her anymore.”
“Too bad. Because someone needs to give a shit about her safety, and since you’ve decided to play the martyr, it falls to me.”
Before I can respond, my phone starts buzzing on the desk. The screen lights up with an incoming call.
When I see the number, I frown.
Then I start to run.
4
VESPER
I expect to see Luka.
I’m prepared to see Luka.
Hell, I’m desperate to see Luka.
What I’m not prepared for is the wall of muscle blocking the school secretary’s desk—six feet four inches of radiating rage wrapped in an expensive black suit.
Kovan.
My breath catches in my throat like I’ve been sucker punched. He’s standing with his back to me, those impossibly broad shoulders rigid with the kind of tension that makes smart people run in the opposite direction. His voice carries across the reception area, low and dangerous and absolutely enraged.
