Page 91 of The Last Inch Of Ice
Nazar watches him decline a conversation with a reporter. Then he checks his phone three times in five minutes, his thumb hovering over the screen like he’s composing messages he never sends. He takes a sip of his drink without seeming to taste it.
Shit. It drives Nazar insane. He knows Kai—knows that stillness is a lie, that it’s hiding something.
And the fact that Kai refuses to even acknowledge his presence with so much as a sneer, that he’s keeping himself so carefully controlled, is a special kind of torment.
Nazar decides to play his own game. It’s juvenile and he knows it, but desperation makes him always stupid.
He positions himself near the bar and launches into an animated conversation with Miller and Sam. Laughing too loud at Miller’s mediocre joke about the open bar. Clapping Sam on the back when he mentions his girlfriend.
Being the most social, charismatic version of himself that he knows how to perform.
He glances over his shoulder. Kai is looking. Of course he is, Nazar can feel his gaze like a physical touch. But his expression is utterly blank. He might as well be looking at the wallpaper.
Nazar gives up.
His patience, already worn thin by months of this torture, snaps completely. He needs air.
By the time he comes back, Kai has disappeared.
He circles the ballroom, checking the terrace, the lobby, the quieter lounges set up for VIPs who want to escape the main party. Nothing. Kai has vanished like smoke.
He’s heading back toward the elevators. Maybe he’ll just go to his room, order something from room service, stop torturing himself.
And then he sees him again.
Down a quiet corridor that leads away from the main ballroom, past a men’s room and some administrative offices that are closed for the night. Kai is standing motionless, his side to Nazar, one hand braced against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
Something is wrong.
The hair on Nazar’s arms stands up.
A cold, prickling dread crawls up his spine. The same instinct that tells him when a hit is coming, when danger is about to materialize.
“Callahan?”
His voice comes out rougher than intended, echoing slightly in the empty corridor.
Kai turns his head slowly, like it takes effort. The fluorescent lighting is harsh, washing all the color from his face.
He looks hollowed out, cheekbones too sharp, eyes like two dark, empty pools.
He looks broken.
“Not today, Rykov.” The words are raw, ragged. All the music stripped out of his voice, leaving just hurt and exhaustion.
He turns to walk away, his movements careful and controlled in a way that suggests he’s holding himself together by force of will alone.
The sight of his retreating back triggers something fierce and protective in Nazar’s chest.
“Wait—what happened? Kai, what’s wrong?”
Kai doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking.
“Kai!”
He disappears around the corner.
Every instinct in Nazar’s body is screaming at him to follow. To chase him down, grab him, demand answers, force him to accept help even if he doesn’t want it.
