Pain and hope in equal measure.
I frown as I lift my phone from the desk, tap through a few screens, and try to mask the way I feel, to no avail. My thumb hovers over the two message threads. Both have new attachments.
Do I want the good news or the bad news first?
Bile works its way up my throat. I swallow repeatedly, turning away from the desk and marching toward the hallway. I click on the top thread—Cardona.
I just want to get him out of the way.
The picture makes me halt in my tracks. The bile I’ve done well to keep down rises, pinching my cheeks and making me race to the bathroom. I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet, flush, and then run the faucet.
The frigid liquid splashing over my hands is what keeps me together. As I gasp for air, I hear the bedroom door wheeze open. I’m trying to contain the horror of the latest image, blindly shutting the bathroom door and locking it so I don’t have to deal with Pavel.
I know he got the same message. Because why wouldn’t he? Cardona enjoys torturing us both.
I frown at my reflection.But I think he enjoys torturing Zoya more.
A phone chimes on the other side of the door. That’s Pavel’s phone. He’s in there. He’s waiting for me.
I just don’t want to talk to him. Not unless I have to.
And I might have to pretty soon.
My eyes flicker to my phone. The picture is still there. Still staring at me. Still haunting me.
What will happen to Zoya when we rescue her? Will her life ever be the same? Can she ever forget the horrors that she’s been subjected to? She may be tough, but everyone has a breaking point.
I would know.
The panic diminishes as I close the message. I click on the next one, hoping with all my being that I can save her sooner than later.
My eyes sweep over the texts from Berkowitz. “Handpicked clean ones for a dance.”
Relief trickles into my gut.
“Saturday morning. Keep P from interfering.”
I look at the door. It’s shut and locked. Pavel can’t read my thoughts or messages.
So, why do I feel like he can?
I lock my phone and place it in my pocket, squaring my shoulders as I prepare to walk into the bedroom. I make a point of flushing the toilet again, running the faucet, and washing my hands with extra soap. Once that’s done, I fix my hair and open the door, taking one step beyond the doorway. And only one step.
Pavel sits on the bed with his phone in his hand. His eyes are glossed over, and his brows are tightly wound together in an awful, horrified expression.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I see you got the picture.”
He wipes the expression from his face and clears his throat. When he looks at me, it’s like he never had a reaction at all. “I did.”
My mouth opens and shuts quickly.Keep P from interfering. I need to make sure he doesn’t blow this whole thing up. I need him to not do something rash. It’s our only chance at getting Zoya back and nailing Cardona at the same time.
I take a deep breath and sigh. “Pavel, I need you to promise me something.”
“That depends on the promise.”
“I need you to stay away from the wedding.”
He stands up, smooths his hand down his tie, and steps forward. “I’m doing whatever it takes to secure my assets.”