Page 10 of Toxic Salvation
The boy I knew was quiet. Thoughtful. He asked questions instead of making demands, and he never, ever raised his voice.
This child is someone else.
“I won’t let you chase her away!” Luka plants himself between Kovan and me like a tiny bodyguard, his whole body trembling with rage. “She’s my friend! You leave her alone!”
I stare at him, open-mouthed. The transformation is so complete, so shocking, that for a moment, I can’t process what I’m seeing. Where is the shy little boy who used to hide behind my legs when strangers talked to him?
“Luka,” I whisper, “sweetheart, you need to calm down?—”
“I won’t calm down!” He spins around to face Kovan, and the fury in his small face is terrifying. “Because he doesn’t listen when I’m calm!”
“That’s enough.”
But Luka doesn’t flinch at Kovan’s tone, and he doesn’t back down. He just raises his chin and glares at his uncle with nine years’ worth of accumulated defiance. “You can’t tell me who to be friends with. I get to choose, and I choose Vesper. I don’t care what you do to me.”
Jesus Christ. If I weren’t so heartbroken, I might be impressed. This kid has more balls than most of the men I know.
But it also tells me everything I need to know about how this past month has gone. Luka has been fighting a war, and he’s losing. Badly.
“Is there a problem here?”
Dean Thomas looks between Kovan and me with a veneer of calm layered on top of panic. He knows enough about us—well, about Kovan mostly, though my last encounter with him wasn’t the friendliest—to be afraid.
“Dean Thomas,” Kovan says through gritted teeth. “We need to discuss why Ms. Fairfax was contacted about my nephew’s situation.”
“Actually, I think we need to discuss Luka’s situation first.” Dean Thomas looks down at Luka. “Luka, why don’t you go collect your things from your locker? I need to speak with your guardians.”
“I’m not leaving.” Luka crosses his arms over his chest. “Vesper just got here.”
Dean Thomas doesn’t even blink. “I wasn’t asking, young man.”
For a moment, Luka’s defiance wavers. I catch a glimpse of the uncertain little boy underneath all that anger, and my heart clenches.
“It’s okay,” I tell him softly. “I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.”
Luka studies my face like he’s trying to determine if I’m lying. Whatever he sees there must satisfy him because he nods once and heads toward the hallway.
But not before shooting Kovan a nasty look.
Once he’s gone, Dean Thomas gestures toward his office. “Mr. Krayev, Dr. Fairfax, if you could join me?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kovan says immediately. “Dr. Fairfax isn’t family. She has no business being involved in this discussion.”
Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve spent so many days missing both of them so desperately that I’ve barely been able to function. Maybe it’s the realization that Kovan is still trying to erase me from their lives like I never mattered at all.
Whatever it is, the fuse of my anger gets lit.
“Do you think you can just insult me away?” I demand, taking a step closer to him. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his eyes, to smell that familiar cologne that still makes my knees weak. “Because it’s not going to work. The school called me. Luka wants me here. Dean Thomas wants to speak to both of us. So I’m staying, whether you like it or not.”
Kovan’s jaw works from side to side. “You’re not needed here, Vesper.”
“Actually,” Dean Thomas interjects smoothly, “I think it’s important that Dr. Fairfax join us for this conversation. Please—” He steps aside and gestures toward his office. “I’d like to get started.”
Kovan looks like he wants to argue, but in the end, he just growls and pushes past me without another word, his shoulder brushing mine as he enters the office. The contact is brief—less than a second—but it’s enough to send electricity racing through my nervous system.
I follow him inside, expecting to find an empty office. Instead, there’s a woman sitting on the small sofa against the far wall. She’s middle-aged, with glossy brown hair and a polka-dotted sweater that somehow manages to look both professional and approachable.
“Who’s this?” I ask before Dean Thomas can make introductions.
