Page 23 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

OLIVIA

“Excuseyou!” someone bleats at me.

I veer to the left as the woman I’ve just walked into throws me a dirty look. “I’m really sorry,” I say, dragging my suitcase out of the woman’s way.

She’s the second person I’ve now accidentally assaulted at baggage claim. For some reason, I can’t get my head on straight.

Logic tells me it’s rejection. Plain and simple. But I’ve been rejected before. And this feels different.

The woman doesn’t seem appeased by the apology. Instead, she flicks her hair over her shoulder, huffs, and stomps off in the opposite direction.

I wheel my luggage to the side of the baggage claim lobby and try to get myself together. If I walk out of here now, Mia is going to immediately know something is wrong. I’m a bad liar under normal circumstances, and this isn’t exactly the kind of thing I know how to sweep under the rug.

I don’t want to taint this trip with my sad story. Especially when it was just supposed to be an interesting airport fling.

Why the hell did I get my hopes up? What made me foolish enough to think there was something more there? Aleks certainly didn’t think that.

If that was even his name.

“Goddammit,” I mutter to myself. “Here comes the ‘conspiracy theory’ stage of grief.”

I stand there for another ten minutes before it dawns on me that I’m not going to start to feel better anytime soon. I might as well bite the bullet and head outside.

If Mia notices something, I’ll just tell her the truth. After all, her shoulder has always been my go-to crying place whenever something goes wrong in my life. I’ve used it plenty before.

I pull off my sweater and throw it over the handle of my luggage. Then I carefully tug my suitcase through the sliding doors, doing my best not to hit anyone else.

I expect to see Mia immediately. She’s usually center stage, waving like a maniac and screaming my name.

But today, she’s nowhere in sight.

Frowning, I turn to the left. Nothing. Then the right. Nothing.

The crowd is thin enough that I can pick out each individual person easily. Mia is definitely not here.

I move to the side and pull out my phone. No missed calls and no messages.

I find a bench to sit on and dial Mia’s number. It rings forever—ten, twelve, fifteen, twenty times—before I give up and cut the line.

My frown deepens. It’s not like Mia to be late. It’s even stranger that she hasn’t even left me a message.

I decide to call Rob. Same story. Two dozen rings of nothing.

When Mom doesn’t answer, I start worrying. What could have happened that all three of them would go silent on me?

Maybe they mixed up my arrival time. Given my first flight was delayed, it’s possible. But that still doesn’t explain why none of them are answering their phones.

I fire off three texts in quick succession.

Mimi, helloooo? I’ve just arrived and can’t seem to find you anywhere. Let me know if I should take a cab home.

Hey broski, are you around? Mia’s supposed to pick me up at the airport but she’s a no show. Any ideas where she might be?

Mom? Everything okay? I just landed. Is Mia running late?

I feel better once I send the texts. They probably just had their phones on silent or something. They’ll see it in just a sec and come hustling to scoop me up.

But ten minutes later, when all three texts have gone unanswered, the panic starts setting in once more, this time with fangs.

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