Deep down, I always thought that if it came down to it, my mom would pick me. That helped me survive years of watching Martinš beat on her. If she had to, she’d protect me. If he ever threatened us, she’d leave him, because in the hierarchy of her love, Adriana and I came first. I believed that.

But now my leg’s shattered. My face is swollen like a balloon, and she hasn’t so much as come by my room or brought me flowers.

And she lied to cover for him, the man who did this to me.

“We need a code,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think to do.

“A code?” Adriana snorts.

“If I ever call and ask you to get me Polish sausages, I need help. I need you to call the police. I’m in trouble. Someone bad, probably Martinš, is going to hurt me.”

“You hate Polish sausages,” Adriana says.

“Exactly,” I say. “That’s why it works. It’s not something I’d ever ask you to do, but no one else will know that.”

Adriana smiles. “I like it.”

She helps me struggle into the passenger seat of her car. “As soon as I can walk again,” I say, “maybe we should take a self-defense class.”

My sister shakes her head. “Screw self-defense. I’m taking Krav Maga. I’m not going to protect myself. I’m going to beat any man who attacks me into a Polish sausage.”

I never do take those classes, but Adriana does.

14

It takes days for us to deal with the fallout from the way Grigoriy handled Yevginiy’s appearance. I’m forced to lie to the local police and say that after I left, Grigoriy went back inside to look for some things I thought I left behind. Luckily, the mafia had already taken care of any video camera feeds, presumably through the good doctor as well. They probably did it so that no one would have evidence of them murdering me.

Ironically, the idiot doc’s actions prevented his own murderer from being caught.

Grigoriy had the presence of mind to dump the dagger he used into a vat of some kind of cleaner and then knock it over sideways, leaving no trace of his fingerprints on the murder weapon, which was marked with the sigil of Yevginiy’s men anyway.

The local newspaper finally reports the deaths of the eight mafia members and the American surgeon this morning.

ST PETERSBURG MAFIA KINGPIN MURDERED BY AMERICAN

On Friday of last week, in a shocking turn of events, the man rumored to be leading the mafia in Saint Petersburg, one Yevginiy Stepanchikov, attacked a local hospital. An American physician who had been taking bribes from Mr. Stepanchikov fought with him, presumably regarding a payment dispute. Both are now deceased, but prior to his passing, the physician killed seven of Stepanchikov’s associates. Nothing has yet been discovered about the nature of their relationship or the method by which the physician was able to accomplish such a feat. Authorities suspect he employed the use of some kind of paralytic to carry it out.

The police officially cleared Grigoriy yesterday, and he’s no longer being supervised or considered as a suspect. I wouldn’t have minded him being behind bars for longer, but Kris and Aleks were quite distressed, and that made me sad. They’ve done so much for me—I can’t really blame them for being worried about another friend.

In my heart, I know that Grigoriy thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was protecting me. I’m not even angry with him, not really.

I’m just terrified of him.

“But how can you just leave?” Kris asks.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I say. “I really and truly do, but I need to get back home quickly. I don’t have a lot of time before Brigita starts selling my horses.”

“I’ll call John and have him go get them,” Kris says.

“That would be great,” I say. “I would love to know they’re back at your barn, but I still need to get home. I have a life there. I’m so happy that you found Aleks, but I can’t just relocate to Russia.”

“I understand,” Kris says. “I was planning to head back soon, anyway.”

“That’s a relief.”

“The thing is.” Kris drops into a chair in the corner of my room. “The guys don’t want you to leave. . .unless they come along.”

Not this again. “We’ve been through this. I know Grigoriy can’t use his powers without my help, but—”