Esme
I get to my feet and groan with frustration. With nothing else to do, I start pacing.
Cillian just sits on the sofa and watches me. But his body is tense and his eyes are alert.
“Esme.”
“We haven’t heard anything, Cillian.”
“That’s a good thing.”
I run my fingers through my hair, feeling as though I’m going insane. “Maybe we should go out there and see if Artem needs some help.”
Cillian frowns. “We are not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”
“Cillian!”
I’m about to argue harder when a gunshot blasts through the night.
I gasp. My heart is thundering so loudly that I almost miss the second gunshot.
“Cillian!” I scream again. I rush over to him just as he gets to his feet.
I need him to say something. Anything. Lie to me if he has to.
It was just rocks falling.
A car backfiring.
A bird calling.
But please, for the love of God, tell me something.
Cillian says nothing.
“We have to help him!” I beg desperately.
I keep looking out through the window, hoping for a sign.
Only darkness stares back.
But that doesn’t scare me. Not anymore.
At long last, Cillian turns his gaze to me. With a grim set to his mouth, he says, “No.”
“No?” I repeat, staring at him in shock. “We just heard two gunshots!”
“Artem told me to stay here with you, no matter what. Two gunshots falls in the ‘no matter what’ category.”
“I don’t think he assumed he was going to be facing a fucking firing squad!” I snap in near-tears—just as another gunshot tears through the silence.
“My don gave me an order,” Cillian says tonelessly.
“Your don!?” I repeat furiously. “Your fucking don gave you an order? Cillian, he’s not your don, he’s your friend!”
“Esme, you don’t understand—”
“I do understand!” I yell.