"I can keep you company," he offers, hesitantly, "if it’ll distract you."
For a moment, I light up at the thought, but then Aleksei’s face floods my mind, and the glow dies. "Sure," I mutter, "but it’s not going to stop me from leaving. One way or another, once the Pakhan returns, I’m gone."
"Sure," he says flatly, dropping down on the couch. He doesn’t offer conversation, but what else was I expecting?
I move to sit across from him, firing off questions like, where he’s from, what he did before this mafia life, how he met Aleksei. He answers in clipped pieces, enough to keep me talking.
Thirty minutes later, the door opens with a loud bang and Aleksei is there. His eyes find me first, lock on, and my heart, traitorous thing, lurches. Hope flares from nowhere, like pain, propelling me
