I suppress a shudder as I start to pry the boards open just like the man did. I go slowly, making sure I don’t draw their attention. Eventually, there’s enough room for me to crabwalk inside and seal it behind me once again.

It’s dark in here. The walls seep soap residue and the machines hunker down in haphazard rows on either side of me like squat little goblins. At the far side of the room is a doorway, hung with a plastic shower curtain. The light behind it makes the whole thing glow, so I can’t tell what’s behind it other than vague, blurry shadows passing back and forth.

Do I charge it? I don’t know if there are other points of entry or exit further in. I don’t know if they’re armed, if she’s a captive, if he’s hurt her more, what he’s capable of doing. Hell, I don’t know what she is capable of doing, either.

Though the look in her eyes when she saw my scars a week ago, when she finally understood…

A woman who looks like that is capable of anything.

I’m racked with indecision, my hand straying toward my gun, when the choice is taken away from me abruptly.

One of the silhouette blobs grows denser.

The shower curtain is yanked back.

And the man emerges into the main room.

His eyes go wide when he sees me. The bag in his hand hits the floor with a thump. It’s dark and dusty in here, but there’s no mistaking what I’m seeing. He’s too close for me to convince myself of anything else.

“Adrian?”

“Kolya!” I hear June’s voice behind him, but I can’t take my eyes off my brother.

My brother.

He’s alive.

11

KOLYA

Adrian’s familiar features have disappeared under his beard, that skinny frame swallowed up by his baggy clothes. But I can sense the same simmering aura resentment I once knew…

Before he fucking died.

I’m about to ask him what the hell all of this means when he charges forward. He swallows up the distance between us in two huge strides, then lunges at me. His body smashes into mine and we hit the floor in a painful tangle of limbs.

I’m so dazed and taken aback that he gets the first blow in before I even think to defend myself. He punches me once in the face, hard. He’s rearing back for a second one when I finally come to my senses and knee him in the stomach before the next strike lands.

It feels like we’ve regressed back decades. Not much has changed. When he was a little boy, Adrian didn’t know the meaning of protecting himself. Now that he’s a man, he still fights the same way—all reckless offense, not a spare thought given to defending what matters most.

I smash my forehead into his. He grunts and rolls off me. If it were anyone else, I would grab my gun and end this immediately.