Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Honestly, while I feel safe with him, it’s also uncomfortable.
But then, I’m uncomfortable with most people, so that’s not unusual. Even Adrian can make things worse for me.
It’s like he’s holding on to my trauma even more tightly than I am. I want to let it go, but it seems hard when he won’t.
Hell, I know he’s off somewhere right now trying to hunt down the man he believes is responsible for my four months of pure hell. As if killing one man would take away the evil in the world. As if it was just one man who tortured me. One man who touched me against my will.
It was so many of them.
But Adrian couldn’t hunt down every one of them, so he went after the leader. A guy who probably doesn't even know of my existence. It’s foolish, really. Probably dangerous.
We step inside, and I try to keep my gaze from zooming straight to the stage. Instead, I search the tables near the front of the stage where I know Oleg will have parked in advance, his bulky presence signaling to everyone his claim on the lead singer of The Storytellers. Our other neighbors from the building will gather there with him.
I find them right away–Nikolai and his girlfriend, Chelle, are sitting with Oleg along with Sasha and Maxim. Adrian’s bratva brothers and their women.
I’m lucky he found such a tight-knit community. That they took me in despite my phobias and mistrust. Still, I don’t feel like they’re my friends. Like Adrian, they view me with pity. They remember my first months in the Kremlin when I screamed and clung to the elevator bar when Adrian tried to get me out of the building. They’re careful with me. Sympathetic. Understanding.
Suffocating.
Finally, I let myself look to the stage. The music hasn’t started yet, but the band members are setting up.
The microphone crackles and pops as Story’s brother Flynn turns it on and bumps it against his lips. “Nadia’s in the howse,” he calls.
The little wings attached to my heart start to beat and flutter.
Flynn’s wearing a light blue knit cap and a vintage Dead Kennedys t-shirt. I know it’s vintage because I heard him telling a fangirl all about it the last time he wore it. It belonged to his dad, who was a popular local musician in the 80s.
I send a shy smile his way and wave, which makes the groupie girls who have also shown up early turn and stare with total hatred.
Flynn is the only person who doesn’t assume I’m fragile. Who makes me forget how tiny and brittle my life has become. And also who makes me remember.
He’s the reason I managed to get myself out of the building. Adrian had been trying for months and months to coax me out of the apartment and out of the building.
I’d left the apartment only to clean the building because Adrian’s pakhan had offered me a job, and I wanted to contribute. I bumped into the beautiful, carefree Flynn leaving his band’s rehearsal. He’s everything I’m not–unburdened. Happy. Confident in a jocular, easy way. He invited me to come and hear the band play, and I found myself–impossibly–accepting the invitation. Suddenly willing to work on and improve my English. It had taken me several more weeks and aborted attempts to actually make it to the show, but I finally did. Now I’m rewarded every time with the golden boy’s seeming delight to see me.
He doesn’t know who I am or what happened to me.
He thinks I’m an ordinary girl who emigrated from Russia. And honestly, that’s the biggest gift. I almost don’t want to know him better because once he finds out my story, he will put the gloves on, like everyone else.
And just for now, I like to have one person who makes me feel normal.
Maykl and I take two seats at Oleg’s table. I bob my head and smile shyly at everyone, avoiding eye contact and actual speaking.
“Nadia, you came out!” Sasha exclaims, throwing her arms wide. She’s always larger-than-life exuberant, which makes me feel even smaller.
“I did.”
Nikolai leans forward. “Any word from Adrian?” He keeps his expression casual, but I sense the tension behind it. Everyone’s been asking about Adrian. They’re worried, I think, but don’t want me to know.
“I spoke with him this morning. He is fine.”
“Did you let him know Ravil–”
“Da.” I bob my head. “I told him. He said he would call.”
Nikolai frowns.
“Is he in trouble?”
The frown disappears. “Adrian?” He scoffs. “No. He can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.”
“Are you lying to me?” Being mentally unstable has advantages. One of them is being overly direct when I want to be.
Nikolai’s girlfriend Chelle’s gaze snaps to Nikolai’s face to hear his answer.
He hesitates, and my heart starts to pound.
Maxim answers for him. “He’s been known to make rash decisions in certain situations. We just want to be sure he has a chance to talk his plans through with me or Ravil or someone with a level head who can help assess risk.”