quickly answer, one hand pressed to my belly as I go still in the center of the room. “Hello?”
“Hello there, krasivyy,” purrs an accented voice from the other end. A voice that I recognize instantly.
“Viktor,” I whisper, dread chilling me to the bone. “What the fuck do you want?”
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I find a video message has come through. Viktor remains silent; the message is from him. My hands shake as I open it and brace myself for what I might see.
The video is crystal clear and shows a huddle of dark-haired men marching up the stairs of an unfamiliar building. I pick Jovan out of the bunch first, his height and the swagger in his steps making him stand out. Beside him is Diego. I choke on the bile burning my throat when I realize that the two black lines zeroed in over the back of Diego’s head are the crosshairs of a scope. There’s literally a gun to his head and he has no idea. His pace is confident as the camera follows them to a set of double doors. He kicks them open, and his soldiers flow in behind him, guns raised.
“What did you do to him?” I demand, trying to steady my voice as I put the phone back to my ear. “If you hurt him, I swear to God—”
“Relax, dorogoy,” he murmurs. “I haven’t done anything to your husband … yet. Whether he gets to live is entirely up to you.”
It takes a minute for me to reply, my head spinning and my heart racing. I can hardly breathe with the image of Diego in those crosshairs burned into my mind. After taking a few breaths and steadying my trembling hands, I push away the emotions making me want to do irrational things—like search for one of Diego’s guns and go searching for Viktor. For one thing, I’m a terrible shot. For another, I have no idea where he is.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice steadier now.
“It’s very simple,” Viktor says. “You are going to tell your husband’s security to stand down. I’m at the end of your driveway. When I pull up, you’re going to put the phone down and walk out—cool and collected. If you do something stupid, Diego’s dead. Got it?”
I calculate the benefits and the risks of going along with Viktor’s demand. The video could have been taken an hour ago, or it could be a live feed. Diego might be locked up somewhere, being beaten and tortured by Yezhov thugs. He might be dead already.
“Don’t you dare hang up this phone!” he screams, sensing my hesitation. “The second this line goes silent, your husband’s a dead man! Do you hear me, Elena? Stay on the phone and do what I said, right-fucking-now.”
I flinch at the explosion of his voice in my ear, anxiety spiking through me. What the hell am I supposed to do? Jaime’s two floors above me, and even if I managed to get up there before Viktor suspects what I’m doing, I can’t talk to him without being overheard. Muting the phone will deaden the background noise and Viktor will take that as defiance.
“How do I know he isn’t already dead?” I fire back. “Or that this isn’t a set-up? The second I step foot out those doors, you’ll probably kill me, too.”
Viktor lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. “That’s the risk you’re going to have to take if you really love Diego as you’ve claimed. What’s it going to be? Take a gamble with your husband’s life, or follow my orders?”
Do I really have a choice? If Diego’s in trouble and I can save him, I have to try. If he’s already dead, then it doesn’t matter because I won’t want to live without him. I doubt I’d even put up a fight if Viktor tries to kill me. I’ve been living on the edge of life and death for months now, so it’s unsurprising to feel so apathetic about marching to my own demise. Either way, I’m screwed and so is Diego.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You’re making the right decision, dorogoy,” Viktor replies. “Now, get moving.”
Leaving the room with casual strides is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do … especially when I pass Marcella on the stairs. My entire body goes stiff, and the words to warn her what’s happening burn in my throat. But if I’m blind and helpless, Marcella is even more so. Diego