I feel a lump rise to my throat. “He’s looking for me?”

Adrian nods and grimaces. “If you were to contact someone—your parents or Geneva, for example—he might have a better chance of tracking you down. He’s probably got eyes on all of them.”

“I have no idea where Geneva even is at this point,” I admit. “And as for my parents… they’d probably tell me to go back to Kolya.”

“Huh?”

There it is again—another peek at the lava hiding beneath Adrian’s placid facial expression. Hot and furious, then gone as quick as it came.

“Yeah, they liked him. Loved him, actually.”

Adrian scoffs. “Because he has money.”

I wish I could argue with that, but Adrian has met my parents. He knows exactly what kind of people they are.

He shakes his head like that’ll dislodge the thoughts running through it. “Well, fuck them. If you’re missing Geneva, I could try and track her down for you,” he offers. “If that would make you happy.”

For all that this whole situation is insane and bizarre and I want nothing more to go running to the police—something that Adrian has warned me several times will only end in disaster, because the Uvarov Bratva has half the damn force on their private payroll—he really does seem to be intent on making me happy. Trying to, at least.

But some things are just beyond reach for the time being. “I don’t think so. Geneva and me—well, we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“Why not?”

I turn away from him. “Long story.”

He sighs. “Okay. Well, anyway, I just want to make sure you have a way of contacting me if one of Kolya’s goons comes knocking.”

“They’re not going to find me in this dump.”

“Which is exactly why it makes sense for us to stay here a little longer,” he says apologetically. “I mean, it’s the perfect cover. Kolya would never think to look here.”

“Would he think to look at the hospital? Because I need to see a doctor soon.”

I touch my arm. It’s hot against my fingertips, even through the layers of bandages. Adrian brought me a roll of gauze the first day we got here, but the blood leaked through that in a matter of hours. I’ve taken to binding it with sheets from the dwindling stack in the back supply closet. But that can’t last much longer, either.

“Is it the baby?” he presses urgently.

“The baby is fine. My arm is getting worse.”

“Your arm is fine,” he says dismissively. “Those things hurt for a while. It’ll heal.” He seems to realize how callous he’s being just a beat too late, because something passes over his face and he comes to sit on the mattress next to me.

I hate how I still shy and cringe whenever he gets too close. He said he’s saving me from Kolya, and I want so badly to believe him. I do believe him. I’ve seen enough of Kolya to know that he and all the secrets he’s hiding are bad news for me and my baby.