Levin nods. “There are others.”
“And Valeria is one of those?”
“Vlad finds Valeria–useful,” Levin says slowly. “So long as she stays that way, there should be no issue between them.”
I can feel the tension coiling in my gut as we drive, my teeth clenching until I can feel a headache coming on. Every moment that passes without getting Sasha out is one in which I imagine any number of terrible things, and the growing helplessness makes me feel worse than ever. I want to burst into Obelensky’s compound, slaughter everyone between Sasha and me, tear him and anyone else apart who might keep me away from her or hurt her, with a violence that startles and terrifies me.
It reminds me of how I felt that night in Alexei’s safe house, the pleasure I’d taken in hurting him on Sasha’s behalf, in feeling his hot blood on my hands and knowing his pain.
Aren’t you afraid of your god, priest?
I would be, if I thought God was in this room.
Wherever Obelensky is keeping Sasha, I have no doubt that God isn’t there, either. And now, after everything, the only thing I’m truly afraid of any longer is losing her.
The ride to Novogrod is mostly silent. Levin puts on music at some point, some rock station that I don’t recognize and tune out for the most part, watching the countryside slide by as we leave the city. I think at some point, I drift off to sleep, because when I jerk awake again, we’re coming into a historic-looking city, all with large stone and brick buildings and well-kept streets.
Levin parks the car at a hotel, checking us in before jerking his head at me and towards the revolving door leading back out to the street. “Let’s go,” he says sharply. “Valeria is waiting.”
“Well, let’s not keep her.” Despite my attempts to bite it back, I can hear the thick sarcasm in my voice. It feels as if all we’ve done is wait, and the idea of rushing to see yet another contact that I feel unsure will even help us feels like sand nettling in my brain.
Levin casts me a sharp look as we walk out into the street. “Valeria was called the Widow Maker for a reason. Don’t piss her off.”
The name rankles something in my head, and I glance back at him. “Widow–was she–” It’s not a question I should probably ask, but I do anyway, immediately regretting it when I see Levin’s jaw tense.
“No,” he says curtly. “She turned down the contract on Lidiya. In fact, she warned me of the danger, although it was too late. It’s the only reason Valeria is still alive.” His jaw tightens further, a muscle in his cheek leaping. “She would be scattered in pieces and long rotted, if she’d been the one to kill her.”
We keep walking in silence after that, until we reach a tall brick apartment building. This one is night and day from the building we’d visited to meet Yusef, even just from the outside. It’s clean and well-kept, with landscaping around the steps that we walk up into the lobby. Everything inside looks old, from the mailboxes to the stone tiles under our feet, but in a purposeful, preserved kind of way.
“Follow me,” Levin says, as we start up the wrought-iron stairs. “And stay close.”
I follow him up the stairs all the way to a heavy door. Levin knocks on it, hard, three times in quick succession and then steps back.
For a moment, I think that she’s not here, that this has been a trick or a trap. There’s no sound on the other side of the door, no footsteps or other sounds of movement. And then, so suddenly that it makes me jump a little, I hear the sound of multiple locks unclicking, and the door swings open.
The woman standing in the doorway is startlingly beautiful. She has a narrow, delicate face and a leanly muscled body, showcased in tight black spandex leggings and a black tank top that clings to her muscled shoulders and slim waist. Her hair is braided back, thick and black, and her green eyes narrow sharply as she looks at us, flicking back and forth between Levin and me.
“Who the hell is this, Volkov?” she asks in an icy voice, her gaze landing on me. It’s like being appraised by a predator, her every flicker of movement sinuous and dangerous, a warning that most would run away from.
“I told you I was bringing a friend,” Levin says smoothly. “Can we come in, Valeria, or are you going to keep us waiting out here in the hall?”
Her eyes narrow a touch further, but she finally lets out a huff of a breath, swinging the door open wider as she steps away from it. “Come on then, before someone sees you.”
The apartment that we step into is clean and sparse, with exposed beams in the ceiling and an industrial-style kitchen visible in the otherwise loft-like space. It smells of oil and wood, and I hover a few steps behind Levin, all of my senses on high alert.
“Jumpy, isn’t he?” Valeria asks, her mouth set in a smirk as she ushers us toward her living room.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Levin says coolly, a sentiment I appreciate, although I’m not sure how true it is in this circumstance.
Her expression smooths into something more serious as we sit down on the leather couches in her living room space. Valeria leans forward, her gaze trained on Levin as she pushes her folded hands between her knees. “You shouldn’t be here, Volkov,” she says, an edge to her voice. “You’re asking for trouble, digging into Obelensky.”
“I wouldn’t if I thought I had a choice,” Levin answers with equal coolness. “I can’t allow an innocent woman to die.”
“Again, you mean?” Her green eyes narrow, and I see Levin stiffen.
“That isn’t a part of this.” His voice sharpens. “And we don’t need to talk about it.”
“Of course it is.” Valeria leans back. “It all comes back to Lidiya–it always does. Don’t think I didn’t hear about you poking around in Moscow a little while back, looking for a stolen girl for some Irishman. That’s what it always comes down to–if there’s a girl in danger, you think of her and your child, and you go feral until whoever it is comes home.”