Page 154 of Blood & Snow
His shoes are polished.
His hands are clean.
I don't know why I expect blood to be on them, crusted beneath his fingernails, but I do.
And I recognize him.
This is Arkady Sokolov.
I know it even before he speaks.
Xander had pictures of him on a table in his home once when I was there.
This is the man he's been hunting.
He looks at me the way a man looks at a stain on his carpet.
His mouth twists into a sneer.
"This is her?" he asks.
The blond one nods.
"Yes, boss."
Arkady walks closer.
He circles me slowly, his shoes clicking on the concrete.
I stay on the floor, too weak to stand.
His examination feels more like a man preparing to purchase livestock for his table than someone investigating a human being.
I feel exposed and cold, frightened of him.
"She doesn’t look valuable," he says.
"Morin sent her to clean his scenes," the older man replies.
"She's been with him for weeks."
The man's accent is so thick and broken I can barely understand him.
"And you think he cares about her?"
Sokolov lifts an eyebrow at his friend and I see the skepticism in his expression.
Of course he's doubtful.
Why would Xander want me?
I'm not a woman from his world.
I'm a college dropout, a weakling, a homebody.
I'm nothing to any of them, not worth the vomit-slathered concrete I lie on.
"He calls her every day. He sends her gifts. He defends her."
