I just want to go out," I say, glaring at Niko like I’d strangle him with my bare hands. He’s being an absolute bastard right now, standing in my way like a slab of stone, acting less like a bodyguard and more like a jailer. And I’m not finding it even remotely funny.
"Zver said you need to remain in the house," he repeats, feeding me the same line like a goddamn robot.
I fight the urge to stamp my feet like I’m two, and groan instead. "Your Zver goes out all f*****g night with his ex-girlfriend. He doesn’t get to decide whether I leave or stay."
"Those are the orders." He’s standing there, stiff as a wall, hands clasped in front of him, face blank. I want to scream.
I realized last night that I’ve been meekly staying in this house for a full damn week, going nowhere. My vacation’s alr
