My hand clutches my ring. No … not entirely.
“Here we are,” Yannick says as we approach a solid white door at the bottom of a set of stairs. The house has two levels visible on the outside; you’d never know there was a basement at a glance. Yannick stares over our heads at Osip and Fyodor. “Fyodor, you stay here. Osip, go check on how the clean-up is going.”
“Ah, pakhan, I don’t want to go back there,” Osip grumbles. “It’s disgusting. All that blood.”
“What blood? What clean-up?” I ask anxiously.
Yannick flicks his eyes at me, then back to the men. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Osip scuffles out of view, leaving Fyodor looking flustered. He takes a stance against the wall, checking his gun with intense interest.
What is Yannick cleaning up? Nothing involving enough blood to upset a
