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So the body count to date is three. The Wolf—Dimitri’s henchman sent to New York to kidnap me—the Wolf’s companion, and Vlad. Four, actually, if I count Naz, who’d still be alive if he’d never met me.
And that angry dog at the apartment, too. So five.
No—that isn’t it, either. How many of Dimitri’s soldiers went to their final reward during that gun battle in the living room? Eight? Ten? Let’s split the difference at nine. And let’s not forget Raphael and the captain of the Silver Shadow, and the number is up to a whopping sixteen lives snuffed out, directly or indirectly, because of me.
Well. I’m really racking them up. One could say I’ve gone professional.
“Gospozha? May we come in?”
“Sure,” I say dully to the duvet. “I’m just in here counting the corpses.”
The door ope
