Chapter 16

"Mila, open the door," the man grunts from the other side. He's stopped hitting it, probably because it's thick and sturdy, and he's making too much noise. "Mila."

She sits on the bed, her shoulders slumped, fighting off tears. It's annoying me how badly she wants to cry when she was the one who was going to help kidnap me. Ruin my life. Betray me.

"Mila, I need you on my team," I hiss. "I know you're not a bad person."

She turns to me, her eyes red. "I do have a brother," she says. "My dad is threatening him, but he hasn't escaped. He'll never escape. Nobody can escape my dad."

"Mila?" the man groans. "I can hear whispering."

"Who is that?" I say, making my voice even quieter.

"A man loyal to my dad."

"Just one man?"

"The Sokolovs respect Dimitri. My dad was complaining about that before he sent me here. He wants the rest of the world to be as miserable and depressing as he is."

"Mila?" the man continues.

"So no other men are loyal to him—all to Dimitri and Mikhail?"

When I say Dimitri's brother's name, Mila flinches, making me wonder if she has a crush on him. Or is that just wishful thinking?

"I think so," she says.

"Right."

I quickly rush to the window, ignoring Mila when she asks me what I'm doing. I can't and won't think about the repercussions of this. If her dad is as evil as she says, then bringing me to him isn't exactly going to make him go easier on Mila's kid brother.

"Lia!"

I open the window and raise my voice, screaming, "Help! Help!"

Immediately, men start yelling from the darkness, "Miss?"

"The second house!" I scream. "There's a man here with a gun!"

The door crashes open, and the man rushes in. My heart has never hurt from beating so hard, but that's what it does now. It starts clamping in my chest like an angry fist. Then Mila steps in front of me, her hands raised.

"Don't," she says, her voice cracking.

"Get out of the way."

"Killing her wasn't part of Dad's plan!"

"I'm going to take her like he told me to." The man's voice trembles when the main front door busts open. "Move, Mila."

"What would my dad do if you killed me?"

"Without his permission? Nothing good. Move."

The callous statement chills me right down to my core. Mila's dad wouldn't be mad if he killed her, just without his permission. That's so sick. I feel sorry for her despite the circumstances.

"N-no," Mila says, her voice bleeding bleak fear, her body trembling, but she doesn't budge.

Then, there are footsteps in the hallway. Several men rush into the room, all holding guns, all with chunky upper bodies as though they are wearing bulletproof vests. They surround the gunman, one of them snapping something. The gunman slowly puts down his weapon.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he says as the men shove his hands behind his back and wrestle him to his knees. "Your father is going to kill me for this."

"Don't worry about the Petrovs," a burly man grunts, then punches the man across his face with a loud, meaty whack noise. "Worry about the Sokolovs."

As they drag him from the room, Mila turns to me, her hands clasped together, eyes downcast as though she'd rather look at the floor than into my eyes. Moving forward, I gently lay my hand on hers.

"It's okay," I whisper. "I don't have family, but I would've done the same if I did."

"I just wish he'd stop," she says, shuddering. "I wish he'd let us all go—me, my brother, the city, just everything."

It feels weird to lean forward and wrap my arms around her. It feels almost like I'm going too far, overstepping a mark, maybe, but I can't ignore her pain, either. As I embrace her, it's difficult to remember that she's supposed to be my competition.

The men drag the gunman from the room, leaving us alone. A moment later, more footsteps rush up the stairs. It's Mikhail, his hair wild as it flops across his face. He runs into the room and stops short, looking at Mila and then at me.

After a pause, he says, "Are you both okay?"

"We're fine," Mila murmurs. "I…" She glances at me. "I'll let you tell him."

"Some freak working for the Petrovs tried to kidnap us," I tell him.

"Because I told him I'd help," Mila says, hanging her head.

"What, why?"

"Drake," she whispers, then coughs back a sob as though just saying his name is enough to break her emotions into tiny, fragile pieces.

"We'll get him back," Mikhail says. "I promise."

"Yeah, you've said that," Mila snaps, "but nothing's changed."

Mila storms from the room, leaving me and Mikhail on our own. Mikhail sighs and runs a hand through his wild hair. "What?" he says after a pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I avert my gaze, shaking my head. "Like what?"

He laughs gruffly. "What has Mila told you?"

"Nothing. Why? What is there to tell?"

"Dimitri's on his way home," Mikhail says. "It's been a wild night for us all, but I need to go now."

"Yeah, Mila needs you."

"No," he grunts. "I'm going to talk to our friend, the tough guy kidnapper. Let's see what he has to say."

Mikhail leaves, fists clenched, looking similar to his brother from behind, except for the hair and the fact that Mikhail doesn't make me ache or need him. I sit on the bed, feeling deflated after everything that's happened.

A few minutes later, Ania appears at my door. She looks sleepy, her hair wild. "Are you okay?" she asks softly. "I heard the commotion."

I search her for any sign that she remembers what happened: the sleepwalking and the mom stuff. She sits beside me on the bed, taking my hand. It feels weirdly natural. It takes my mind to emotional places, like wondering what it would be like to have a sister and a family.

"We live in a crazy world, don't we?" she says with a world-weary note in her voice. With the lights low, it's easy to believe she's much older than she is. "I'm happy to stay with you until Dimitri gets home."

"Sure, Ania. Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me. I don't want to leave you alone right now."

I move closer to her, my body suddenly tired, as if everything has just caught up with me. The need I can't stop feeling for Dimitri gets even deeper. I want him here, to feel his strong, muscled arms around me, to know I'm safe. Forever.

"It's okay," Ania whispers, which makes me realize I'm crying. I didn't plan on letting out all this pain, but it just spills out of me. I turn and push my face against her chest, accepting her arms as she wraps them around me.

"Hush," Ania goes on. "Everything's going to be just fine."

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

When I try to pull away from her, Ania hugs me tighter, pulling me against her. It's like she knows I want to hide my pain, and she doesn't want to let me.

"You can't run from your pain forever."

"You don't even know why I'm crying."

"Maybe you feel alone. Maybe you feel lost. Maybe you're overwhelmed. It doesn't matter. You're allowed to cry."

She doesn't know how badly I need to hear that, even if I never would've admitted it and couldn't admit it now.

"Thank you," I say after a pause.