Midnight Purgatory (Bugrov Bratva #1)(69)

And I was foolish enough to believe for a second there that I might be one of them.

Once the lock on the basement door turns, I slump over to the bed and lie down in it. Fetal position, of course, because it’s just that kind of night.

I’ve been so swept away in the events of the last week—picnic lunches with Lev, long conversations with Uri, just the general ease of life above ground—that I completely pushed aside the stuff that matters to me.

Like Elle for instance. Her bridal shower. Her wedding. I was supposed to be there for all of it!

But instead, I’d dropped her a vague text message, per Uri’s instructions, and then disappeared on her. She must think I’m the worst fucking friend on the planet. And I wouldn’t blame her.

Now, in addition to the heartbreak, I have guilt to contend with.

After an hour of tossing and turning, I end up in the shower, trying to scrub his scent from my skin. The whole time I’m getting pelted with cold water, I berate myself for being a naïve idiot. Then I get into my coziest pajamas and get into bed, resolving to be smarter than I have been.

And even so, my last thought before I drift off to sleep is, Is he watching me?



I’m this close to banging my head against a wall the next morning when the lock unbolts. I rush out of the kitchen to see Lev walking in, shuffling his feet uncertainly as his gaze veers around the room.

“Lev!” He jumps in place. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s wringing his hands and avoiding my eyes. I inch a little closer. “I’m sorry I’ve invaded your basement again.”

He nods like he’s agreeing with me. “Can I stay here?”

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”

He just continues to stand there, swinging his hands. “Can we… do something together?”

As crappy as I’m feeling right now, those words warm me up. He didn’t come here for the basement; he came here to see me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He blushes happily and, of course, his go-to is to the video game corner. I follow him there and we drop down in our usual spots. Lev on the carpet on the floor, and me on the sofa just behind him.

“My friend’s husband plays video games a lot, too,” I mention as Lev puts in his username. I’m pretty sure he’s not listening to me but I talk anyway. “I’ll bet he’s been roped into wedding planning now because I’ve gone MIA on…”

I trail as the screen catches my attention—and a conversation box pops up on the side. Lev minimizes it right away, but it’s got me thinking.

Elle used to complain about how Liam would stay up late chatting with all his gamer friends online. If Lev has a conversation box feature here, then that means he’s hooked up to the internet. Which means…

I have a lifeline to the outside world.

I slip down onto the carpet beside Lev. He stiffens, looking at me as though I might bite at any moment. I move a bit further away from him for comfort’s sake and give him a reassuring smile. “Do you have any online friends you talk to?” I ask, gesturing over to the conversation feature.

Lev shrugs.

“Could you show me how to use it?”

He nods and proceeds to tell me how it works in a rapid-fire monotone. My heart beats faster as he explains. It’s simple, straightforward, totally doable. This plan of mine might just hold water. I just have to wait until Lev goes back upstairs and hope to God that Uri isn’t paying that close attention to the cameras down here.

As long as I’m fully dressed, I figure I’ll be fine.

Now, all I have to do is get a message to Liam.

Help me get out of here.





39





ALYSSA


Saturday turns into Sunday.

Lev has been a no-show today, which means there’s nothing to distract from my thoughts, which means they’re furiously circling around Uri, because of course they are. It starts with rage and slides into longing that quickly turns back into rage.

Long story short, I’m a freaking mess.

And I have no idea what to do about it.

That’s the thing: you can know something intellectually and you can feel something emotionally and, more often than not, those two things are in direct conflict with each other.

I know that Uri’s bad for me. I know he’s dangerous and selfish and he’s probably using me for his own purposes. I shouldn’t care what he does or how he lives as long as I can be free.

But I can’t help but feel destroyed inside any time I so much as think of him upstairs with another woman.

Surely that has to be the reason I’m banished to the basement on weekends, right? I mean, why else would he want me out of sight, out of mind? He’s trying to hide me from his legion of booty calls.

I’m not proud of that extremely petty thought. I’m not even mad at the faceless women he’s probably devouring as I pace the basement in angry circles. I’m mad at him for being more than just a brutish thug. And I’m mad at myself for letting myself feel this way about him.

I’m getting worked up into one hell of a fervor when the basement door opens. I whip around wondering who I’m gonna have to deal with. I’ve already got settings geared up for each face.

Svetlana: polite reservedness.