ALVARA

xxii

"So Maxine's dead," he states when I open my mouth to say something unpleasant.

My jaw snaps shut. "Is this really what you pulled me outside to talk about at seven in the morning?"

"Were you or were you not the person who showed up on my doorstep announcing Maxine was dead?" he asks, bored.

"You and I both know that wasn't the reason. You don't give a fuck about her."

He shrugs, not denying it.

I was really starting to get pissed off. "Look, if all you wanted to do was bring me out and irritate me, then you've succeeded. Now can we get back inside and finish breakfast?"

Nikita looks at me, pity in his eyes. "You are the stupidest man I have ever met in my life," he says.

I stare at him, conveying with my eyes that if he doesn't cut to the fucking point, I will strangle him on the spot.

He steps forward so that we are almost nose-to-nose. Well, nose-to-chin, in his case. "Listen," he says quietly. "It was stupid of you to take her offer. Guarding Aleksander in exchange for information about your family? The past is the past. Your father is dead and your mother didn't care enough to stay for her nine-year-old son. Let that be enough closure, Kaiser."

I'm glad I don't flinch, because I'm only half-paying attention to him. There is someone behind us, and reflexively I reach for the gun in my pocket. 

I glance at the crumpled body. "No one of importance?"

Nikita doesn't even glance over his shoulder. "Not anymore. As I was saying..."

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TW: trauma

― ALVARA

WHEN KAISER AND NIKITA COME BACK into the dining hall, they are both talking like old friends. Sometimes I forget that they're barely twenty-five, young adults who are still figuring out their lives.

Kaiser wraps me in a hug from behind, casually, as if it's his birthright to be able to touch me whenever he wants. I fight the urge to elbow him in the gut.

"How do you feel about going out tonight?" he asks rhetorically. There is genuine excitement in his voice.

I narrow my eyes at him, making sure the sweet smile is still pasted on my face. "I don't know what I'm gonna wear."

"I'll have something sent up," Nikita says from behind me.

I turn. There is something different about him. Instead of the charismatic host, a nervous energy seems to surround him today.

I murmur a thanks, letting my gaze linger on him. He doesn't look away, staring back at me intensely. He smiles. It is the expression of a serial killer before he plunges a knife into his final victim.

Unnerved, I turn my face in Kaiser's coat, heart beating erratically. In response, his arms tighten around me.

"We're going to a nightclub," he whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "It's a spot Aleksander likes to frequent when he visits Russia."

"He is there," Nikita adds. Apparently, he has bat-like hearing, because he's five meters away from us. "My good friend owns the club. Apparently, there's a certain blond sitting at the bar chatting up women as we speak. Meet us in the foyer in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes isn't enough time for me to properly get ready, so I hastily slip into a dark red dress and slather on dark lipstick, mascara, and highlighter. I'm just about to put on eyeliner when Kaiser stops me.