Chapter Thirty-Three
I’m back in Nero’s lounge chair, adrenaline pulsing through my veins so fast it’s difficult to think.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I dial Vlad but get his voicemail—only instead of a beep, his service provider’s automated voice states, “The mailbox is full and cannot accept messages at this time. Goodbye.”
He must not have checked his voicemail for a while.
I contemplate texting him not to go to Staten Island, but stop myself. What if my text is what gives him the idea to go there?
Instead, I type out, Do not engage Koschei. Call me immediately. It’s a matter of life and death.
I wait a couple of seconds for a reply.
None comes.
Either he ditched his phone or isn’t paying attention to it.
Or maybe he’s so overcome with grief that he doesn’t care about the
