I don’t argue. Just nod. But the words stick.
Igor’s warning echoes as I drive home.
But Igor didn’t see what I saw. The way Yakov’s hands clenched when we spoke about Pablo. The flash of something violent and possessive in his eyes. Not the cold calculation of a psychopath.
The rage of a man who’s already decided I’m his to protect.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
Unknown:If he touches you, I’ll kill him.
No signature needed.I know that precise, lethal prose.
I should be terrified that Yakov’s watching me even from his cage. Instead, my body is in flames thinking about the dark promise in those words.
What does it say about me that I want the monster’s protection?
That I want the monster, period?
I pull over, then type back with trembling fingers:
Me:He won’t get the chance
Three dots appear immediately.
Unknown:Good girl
And I’m lost.My body clenches around emptiness.
The next session will be torture.
Or salvation.
9
MORE THAN THE PIECES
YAKOV
The lock to the therapy room clicks. It’s standard procedure.
But something’s wrong.
“Extra security today?” I ask as the lead guard enters, flanked by two more bodies. Their hands hover near their sidearms, their tension humming like a low-frequency warning.
“Just orders,” he says. His eyes sweep the room like I’ve stashed a bomb under the couch cushions. “Dr. Agapova is running late. She’ll be here in fifteen.”
I nod, moving to the window.
The sky is pale and sharp this morning, the kind of cold light that doesn’t warm anything it touches. Below, three more guards circle the property in tighter loops. Their formation has changed. More eyes, fewer gaps.
It’s confirmation.
Something has shifted.
I think of Mila again. Her voice, tight with something she didn’t want to name. Her shoulders, curled in defensiveness as she tried to hide under professionalism. The car. The texts. The predator circling too close.
I tell myself it’s tactical awareness. She’s a resource. A key to survival. Valuable. Replaceable if necessary.
