Page 83 of Dance with Death

“Hey. I don’t know if this is some kind of sadistic trick you and Nikolai have masterminded just to fuck with me, but if it’s not…thank you.”

“It is not trick,” he says pulling the door open. “You are welcome.”

He leaves and I fall back into my seat as I stare at the small screen. There’s one unread text. I sigh, swiping a hand over my face. I know this could be fake. Hell, it’s more likely some sick plan for Nikolai to torment me further by making me think I’m texting Anya.

Yeah, this might be a setup…but what if it’s not?

It’s a simple phone. A few click-throughs show me immediately that there’s no internet, no apps, nothing helpful at all. It’s not a touch screen and certainly not a smartphone. It’s made just for phone calls and texts.

Without giving it another thought, I open the message that’s waiting. It’s from a phone number that has already been entered as a contact on this phone. In fact, it’s the only contact listed.

Plain and simple, the text is from A.

Kostya must have set that up before giving us the phones to make sure no one texted from another number that I might mistake as Anya.

A:Mine?

I sink back in my chair, lifting my hand to grip my hair as I stare at the screen in disbelief.

Only Anya would send that text.

I know it.

It’s that punch in the gut feeling of justknowingit’s her that makes me unintentionally hold my breath.

She sent her message twelve minutes ago. I have to hurry with my reply. I don’t know what her living conditions are like—whether she has privacy to text me without someone catching her, whether her time to do this is limited.

E:Yours.

My knee bounces as I hold the phone in front of my face, staring, waiting more anxiously than I ever have been before, just hoping for a reply.

“Come on…please, Anya,” I whisper at the phone.

Two full panic-inducing minutes pass before a reply pops up on the screen. The phone is already set to silent and it will have to stay that way, meaning I’m going to drive myself insane waiting and staring at this thing.

A:Is it really you?

I laugh, the breath I’d been holding rushes forcefully from my lungs. I feel relief, happiness, sadness, fear, and joy all at once. I know anybody could text that simple message, but I know it’s her. Iknowit in the pit of my stomach.

E:Who else would it be?

A:It’s really you.

My legs spread wide and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I type.

E:Are you okay? Are you safe?

Our conversation continues, one reply after the next.

A:Safe? Really?

E:You know what I mean. Can you do this without getting caught?

A:I think so. But I can’t charge it. When the battery dies, that’s it.

E:Then we should make the most of our time.

A:What are you suggesting, E?

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