“Nothing’s going on,” Adesina said, putting her head on Joey’s lap. “But I’m glad you’re here. Mommy misses you.”

“You want some pizza?” Michelle asked. It was time to change the subject. She and Joey had already flogged that dead horse. “It’s from that place you like.”

“Does it have olives and mushrooms? Because you know that’s disgusting.”

Adesina giggled. “I’m weird that way.”

A surge of happiness rolled through Michelle. If Adesina could laugh, everything would be okay. Sure, those nightmares were bad, but they could get through it with some help. And Joey was here. Adesina loved Joey.

It was just a bad day. That was all.

Just one bad day.

Andrii leaned his bulk against the side of the helicopter. He stared at Marcus. He’d been doing that the whole time Olena and her father had been inside the aircraft, talking. It hadn’t been long, but the seconds dragged by, and Andrii’s sunglass-shaded eyes just stared and stared at him. Or seemed to, at least.

The helicopter door opened. Olena stepped out. Vasel began to climb out after her, but Olena had grabbed Marcus by the hand and led him away before the gangster touched earth.

At the edge of the village, Olena embraced Marcus. She kissed him, smeared the tears from her eyes onto his cheeks. “You all right?” he asked, looking back at the watching gangsters. “You want me to beat on them?”

She shook her head. Still planting kisses on him, she said, “You can’t beat my father. He’s an ace, Marcus. He is like Baba Yaga. She spits and you are dead. He flicks his coin and … that’s the end. Believe me, Marcus, you do not want to fight with my father. He doesn’t miss.”

Throat suddenly dry, Marcus said, “Right. I stay on his good side, then?”

“He has no good side. He is a bull, remember?”

Vasel shouted Olena’s name and said something in Ukrainian.

“What the fuck does he want, anyway?”

Olena pulled back a little, straightening. She cleared her throat. “I am going with them.” She spoke over his immediate protests. “I have to! There is no choice.”

“What? Are you forgiving him?”

“I will never forgive him, but … he’s my papa. I sat there listening to him, hating him, and yet knowing his voice from since I was a girl. You won’t understand. Anyway, if I don’t leave you he will kill you.” Marcus tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Believe me, he will. But if I go he will give you money. Make a phone call. Nobody will stop you from leaving. Fly home to New York, Marcus. If you love me, live. Get away from here, from Baba Yaga and all of this.”

Marcus grunted. “Baba Yaga is dead.”

Olena tensed. “You don’t know—”

“I do. I didn’t get a chance to tell you. When I was out I saw her. I took her out. Dead.”

“Are you sure?”