“Because I can use you.”
“Against my father?”
“You allowed yourself to be used, so don’t act victimized. I also need to know where that money went since you’re obviously not using it.”
So he doesn’t know about Babushka.
Yet.
Because I have no doubt that if he puts his mind to it, he’ll eventually figure it out.
“What if I don’t help you? What if I don’t want to interfere in the Matt Bell case?”
“Whether you help or not doesn’t really matter. We’ll win either way. Whether or not we’ll use violence is what you should worry about.” He pauses. “You don’t want your boyfriend to accidentally lose his head, do you?”
I’m flat out shaking, cold sweat covering my temples because I know, I just know that Adrian doesn’t make idle threats.
That he doesn’t target anyone just because.
That he didn’t haphazardly pick Knox without a reason.
“What…did he do?”
“Put his nose where it doesn’t belong. If you want him safe, make him lose or drop the case. Either would work.”
“He won’t listen to me. We’re just casual, so neither of us is important to the other.” I lie through my teeth.
“I’ll be the one who decides that. Play your part and be smart about it, Anastasia. If you do, I might let you come back without shedding any blood.”
26
KNOX
An ominous feeling has been metaphorically crushing my windpipe for the past hour.
So I called my family. Teal, Dad, my foster sister, Elsa, and even that grumpy fucker Agnus, Dad’s husband, who raised me and my twin sister.
Everyone seemed safe.
Unless they lied to me?
I have a weird sense of intuition. I always have, ever since I realized that it’s possibly the only thing that’s able to save me.
That aside from myself, no one will stand up for me, no one will give me what was taken. So I had to rely on my sixth sense more often than not, and it’s that intuition that saved my arse more times than I can count. It’s what made me escape with my skin unscathed.
So I don’t ignore it.
Ever.
I think about calling Dan to make sure he’s all right, but fuck that wanker. I’m still contemplating the best way to get back at him for what he insinuated today.
My blood boils just thinking about him near Anastasia. If he so much as touches a hair on her head, I might as well quit being a lawyer and become a criminal.
So, no, I won’t complain if he meets his maker sooner rather than later.
Besides, he’s definitely not the reason behind the clenching and unclenching of my chest or the fucking twist in my heart.
I refuse to think about why I’m here, in front of Anastasia’s flat, when I’m supposed to be in a meeting, but I am.
Here.
And the feelings are escalating to dangerous heights.
There’s no way in fuck I could concentrate in that meeting when my ribcage was about to burst open. Aside from my family, there’s only one other person who could be the cause of this reaction.
I use the spare key she gave me a while back and open the door slowly. For some reason, it feels as if I shouldn’t make any sudden movements.
The lock is a bit crooked and I pause at that, but only for a second, before I step inside.
The flat is dark, silent, which is different from usual, or at least, ever since I started coming here on a regular basis. On normal nights, Anastasia would either be singing along to her favorite old songs in a low voice, or she’d be silently listening to them while typing away on her laptop. Either way, the music would be blasting.
None of those scenarios are present. There’s no music or typing sounds that I’m starting to only associate with her.
The defective silence slowly gives way to something more frantic and ominous. As if someone is rummaging through things.
Sure enough, when I stride to the closet, I find her shoving clothes into a bag, her face flushed and her movements sporadic.
I hit the light switch. “What are you doing?”
Anastasia jumps, her wild eyes meeting mine. She’s not wearing the glasses tonight and she appears so young and fragile, like a rose that can be broken with a single touch.
Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths that she doesn’t seem to be able to control.
“Knox.”
My name is a haunted whisper on her lips, a sound that she doesn’t seem to be able to control.
She clears her throat. “Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”
“It’s over.” Lie. I left early, feigning an emergency, and from what I’m seeing, I’m glad I did. “Where are you going?”