Dragging himself away from the window, and the serene night beyond, Ren answered the knock on his door. He didn't know who he'd expected to find on the other side, but disappointment twinged inside him as he confronted Misha.
"What are you doing here?" he added after an uneasy greeting.
"It's been two days since . . . "
He didn't have to remind Ren, for the fact had been pressing on his mind all evening. Two days since everything went to hell.
Misha ran a hand through his ash-brown hair and sighed. "Can I come in?"
Without a word, Ren stepped aside. Misha made himself at home, plunking onto the leather sofa in the middle of the apartment's main room and tossing his keys on the coffee table. Ren lingered by the door and watched with a frown.
Since they'd parted at the Vigil's base, neither of them had endeavored to reach out, despite all the unanswered questions. So what was the purpose of this visit?
Before he could ask, Misha said, "Have you heard anything about Minister Laguna's replacement?"
Shoving his hands into his pant pockets, Ren returned to the window and watched a trio of keepers walk across the street below, their shadows stretching ominously.
Minister Laguna had never remarried after her husband's death, and as such, there'd been no children to name heir. It had been a tumultuous time as the Ministry decided how to deal with the rare occurrence.
"Markos says that a few candidates from headquarters' notable Serafi have been nominated," Ren replied, "but the vote won't take place until the funeral is over."
He caught Misha's nodding reflection in the glass. "My dad is anxious about it. He's hoping they'll elect an equalist to support him as High Keeper."
Ren wouldn't count on it. Right now, the equalist faction was outnumbered, and it was difficult to determine how Markos would vote. Despite being an equalist, Nika's father had a tendency to side with the purists. It was all a strategy, though. He did nothing without a good reason.
"I'm sure that's not the only thing Emil is anxious about," Ren said, turning around. Misha stiffened. "What did he tell you?"
A deep inhalation. Then another. Ren wanted his friend to look into his eyes, but Misha stared at his folded hands instead.
"He did it."
The words were almost soft enough that Ren missed it.
"He told the Volkari where to find the journal. And he disguised two wolves as keepers so they could take Nika." Waves of emotion crested within Ren, and he imagined they weren't dissimilar from the hurt and frustration that twisted Misha's features as he added, "But he didn't know that she would be tortured."
"Bullshit."
The growl tore through him, and it required every ounce of energy to stay motionless. He thought of calm things—quiet mountain lakes, hooting owls, crackling embers. He thought of home, which had popped into his head far too frequently these days.
"Please." Misha eased to his full height, as if it required tremendous effort to do so. "You know my dad. Yes, the Ministry has been trying to oust him from his position as High Keeper. But he would never help the Volkari just to spite them."
It took a moment to register. Ren was distracted by the weight of this news, the fear he'd harbored all along. That he'd trusted Emil with things no one else knew—not even Misha—and the man betrayed both Ren and all of the Daemonstri community.
But Misha was right. Emil wasn't petty; his feud with the purists was at a stalemate. Antagonizing them would risk too much, and he must have known that the Nefili race would suffer the most losses from all of this.
"Then why?" he thought aloud.
"I think he might have been coerced," Misha said. "He implied that Alpha Capello has something on him."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. He was vague, said it was dangerous to even speak about . . . But he was afraid, Ren. And so am I."
Ren studied Misha for a long minute. His gray-green eyes were clear. Honest. The faint lines around his eyes and mouth were the only indication that he knew how to smile. Misha was perhaps the most non-serious person Ren knew, and yet, he'd scarcely allowed himself to chuckle during these past weeks.
Ren uncurled his fists and leaned a shoulder against the windowsill, thinking. "Did he give you any clues as to how they were blackmailing him?"
A nod. "No matter what happens, I need to remember what he always says."
"Family comes first," they said in unison.
It was Emil's motto, a constant reminder to Misha and sometimes to Ren. Before the Vigil, before the Ministry, before everything—family comes first.
"You think Capello threatened to hurt you or your mother?" he asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe there are secrets about the Kovac family. Ones that Emil keeps quiet, so the Volkari can't target me, too."
Ren rubbed the ache that bloomed in his temples. "Then I guess you came here to say that you're not turning him in."
Guilt flashed through Misha's face. "I can't. And I'm asking you not to either."
"Fine. But what about the others?"
"We never really told Elliot the details, so he doesn't have enough to come forward. And besides, betrayal isn't in his nature." A sharp breath. "Nika, however . . . "
The shift in tone was enough to set Ren off. He barely bit back his snarl as he said, "Not happening."
"You didn't even let me finish the sentence."
"You were going to say that I'm the only one who can convince her to keep quiet."
A shrug. "You know it's true."
Ren crossed his arms in silent rebellion.
"Have you spoken to her?"
"No. And I don't plan on it."
"You can't be angry forever. It was one promise."
Foul emotions smoldered in Ren's veins, still capable of burning despite having two days to simmer down. But he drenched them with an ice-cold wave of apathy and said, "This time, it was one promise. Tomorrow, it could be worse."
Misha shook his head in disapproval. "People make mistakes. You need to lower your standards."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"Meaning, no one is perfect. Especially not Nika Dimitrovich."
Ren frowned. "I don't expect that of her—trust me. It's just better for everyone if I keep my distance."
Even if I don't want to. Even if I can't stop thinking about her, no matter what—or who—I use as a distraction.
He shut down that tell-tale inner voice, reminding himself that his baggage, plus Nika's baggage, equaled bad, bad things.
All the while, Misha's inquisitive gaze drilled a hole through his skull. "Why do you think it's going to end in disaster?" Ren said nothing. "Is it because of what happened in Brugovsk?"
At that, his head snapped up. He hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge the existence of that word for so long, that it was both bewildering and terrifying to hear from someone else's mouth.
"How do you know about that?"
Misha raised his eyebrows. "Four years ago, my dad went to Russia on a business trip and came home with a moody, nineteen-year-old giant. Naturally, I had a few questions."
Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. "And did Emil answer them?"
"Some. After you graduated from Konstantin East, you attended the Vigil boot camp in Brugovsk, where you got into trouble. People died, including a girl who was very close to you. That's it." Ren nodded slowly. "I was hoping you'd talk to me about it. I think Emil did, too. But you don't really open up to anyone, do you?"
"What happened in Brugovsk is behind me. There's nothing more to say."
Though he spoke with conviction, he couldn't conceal the rasp in his voice that indicated the opposite. And Misha—damn him—knew it.
"So the reason you're pushing Nika away is completely unrelated?"
Ignoring the sarcastic edge to his tone, Ren said, "I'm not pushing her away. I'm keeping my distance."
A scoff. "What's the difference?"
"Why do you even care? I thought you hated her."
"I never hated her. She was suspicious at first, but after she was tortured . . . That's beside the point. I talked to one of her keepers yesterday, and apparently, she's not doing well."
Ren's traitorous half immediately began firing off silent questions: Not doing well how? Is she sick? Had she been injured during the attack? Are the keepers I assigned watching over her?
The other half, however, was the one that responded with, "I don't care."
"Yes, you do."
Ren sent Misha a glare so baleful, it was worthy of a god.
"Look, I didn't come here to argue about some girl with you," Misha said, despite the spark of amusement in his eyes. "Headmaster Kovachev is convinced that the Volkari have returned to Konstantin, so my dad is taking me out there tonight. I just wanted to apologize before I left."
"Apologize for what?"
"For punching you, and being a dick in general."
Ren trained his gaze out the window and murmured, "I deserved it."
"No. Laguna died because the Volkari had planned to kill her from the start. And frankly, I'm glad you hadn't been in that house. Oldbloods know the only way you would've given them that pendant, is if they pried it from your cold, dead hands."
"But I shouldn't have abandoned Elliot."
Misha sighed and clasped Ren's shoulder. "I don't blame you for choosing to go after her. Not anymore. My dad reminded me that the people you care about should come first. Even if it means breaking the rules, or not doing your job.
"Every keeper in that house was fighting for Laguna and Elliot. Because they're Serafi, and our duty is to protect them. But the only one fighting for Nika is Nika."
None of this was news to Ren, but he couldn't bring himself to accept that Misha now believed he'd done the right thing. "You're just saying that because you're a halfblood, too."
"You once asked me if I've had a hard life as a halfblood. But when I compare it with Nika's, I feel like a sack of shit for complaining." A wry chortle. "My dad has been committing treason to keep me safe. And while Minister Dimitrovich might be a good guy, he's not a good father."
Ren didn't disagree, but such opinions were better kept to oneself.
Misha leaned close and whispered, "Visit her. Talk. And even if it doesn't go well, try not to disappear from her life. Because, right now, I think you're all she's got."
Ren stood frozen, considering those words, as Misha grabbed his keys and aimed for the exit. He was halfway through the door when Ren forced himself to say, "Thank you." A nod. "If you find anything about Lu—"
"I'll call, then you can tell Nika."
With a wink, Misha was gone, leaving Ren to a screaming silence and shadows that crept across the street far below.