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Mikhail groans and rejoins me, shaking his head. “I don’t want to make this worse.”
“How often can you get her inside?” I ask.
“Half of the time, maybe less. She used to lock her door at night, but one night, she trashed her room and accidentally cut herself on glass from the mirror.”
“That’s awful,” I murmur. “Poor girl.”
“Don’t letawakeAnia catch you calling her a girl,” Mikhail says, with another Dimitri-like dry laugh.
“Can I try?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I don’t want you getting hurt. Awake Ania wouldn’t hurt a fly. Sleepwalking Ania is always ready for a fight.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Just try not to wake her. If she gets aggressive, get away from her quickly.”
I nod, then slowly walk toward her. “Ania,” I whisper.
She turns at the sound of my voice. Her wide, saucer-like eyes reflect the moonlight. There’s an eerie, lifeless look to them. “Mom?”
“I’m here.” Cautiously, remembering how quickly she lashed out, I move my hand toward her arm. Finally, I place my hand on her, feeling her cool skin and the texture of the goosebumps against my palm. She stiffens up, and I get ready to run, but she settles down, her shoulders slumping.
“Stay like that,” Mikhail whispers. “I think she might… ah, good.”
Ania doesn’t lie down, exactly. It’s more like she slowly crumples to the ground. Soon, she’s snoring in the grass.
“What now?” I ask.
“I should be able to carry her inside.”
Mikhail kneels beside his sister and slowly moves her into his arms. Ania looks so tiny and vulnerable when he stands while holding her against his chest. It triggers something in me I don’t want to think about—thoughts of motherhood, broody swirling emotions, of being there for someone, never leaving them, never forcing them to be alone until they’re ready.
“You should get some sleep,” Mikhail murmurs to me.
“Yeah,” I mutter dryly. “I’ll try. Is Dimitri okay?”
“I haven’t heard from him,” Mikhail says, “but you don’t need to worry abouthim.” I know. It’s the others who should worry. Dimitri has killed before, and he’ll do it again. Shouldn’t thatscareme? “Thank you, Lia. I couldn’t have calmed her down without you.”
With that, he turns toward the house. I go back to the other house, returning to my spot in the library before I realize I’m still wearing Mila’s shoes. I take them off, studying them in the light. They look like plain black shoes, but the sole shows the name of an expensive brand.
Being here, around all this luxury, is like being in a different universe. It all feels so alien. Yet, I have to admit, as I start idly sketching again, it’s so refreshingly quiet and peaceful out here. Now that Ania has stopped sleepwalking, at least.
Eventually, my eyes start to grow heavy. The clock tells me it’s almost four a.m. I hope that Dimitri, wherever he is, is okay. I hope he comes back to me soon.
CHAPTER 13
DIMITRI
Artyom Dragomirov is the Sokolov Bratva soldier connected to the Serbians. As I drive toward his address, I talk with Angelo, my police contact, on speaker. I’d much rather be at home, though, and that’s not because of the sleep tugging at me. It’s not because of the stress pumping at the base of my neck like a bomb waiting to go off. It’s my need to be with Lia.
“It looks like he served with two Serbians who are currently wanted—one for assault and one for intent to supply.”
“Hmm,” I mutter. “I happen to know he had a phone call with the dead man, too.” I just got a call from Mikhail confirming the connection.
“How do you know that?” Angelo snaps. “We haven’t even gotten the cell phone records yet.”
“I guess you should start hiring us,” I tell him.
