I check the rearview mirror again and again. I expect to feel a sense of relief when the hotel finally disappears. Maybe even a sense of accomplishment. But all I feel is sadness. The deep and all-consuming feeling that I’ve lost something important.

My vision blurs, and I slow down a little until I’ve got a hold of myself.

“Come on, June,” I snarl under my breath. “Get your shit together.”

I turn the corner and realize the road ahead is completely flooded. It looks like I’m about to drive straight into a lake. I stamp on the brakes, and the traction skids hard. I lose control of the steering wheel and scream as the car fishtails right into the thick trunk of an ancient tree. There’s a sickening crunch, a mechanical whine, then a silence that’s even worse.

“No,” I gasp as the car’s lights flicker and die on me. “No! No!”

The rain pounds the roof. It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon.

Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.

23

JUNE

I sit there for a long time, staring aimlessly at the rain hammering against the hood before I become aware of lights at my back.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter.

The massive black vehicle comes to a stop. It looks like a wild beast, its grille bared like fangs.

Biting my pride, I push the door open and get out of the car on shaky legs. Kolya hops out of his jeep at the same time. He doesn’t even spare a glance at his ruined vehicle. Instead, he stalks over to me, grabs my arm, and pulls me towards his jeep wordlessly.

Even after he’s pushed me into the passenger seat, he doesn’t say a thing. I’m the first one to speak.

“Kolya…”

He doesn’t respond. His expression is as black as the skies above us.

When we get back to the hotel, he parks right in front of the steps and steps out. He’s at my door before I’ve even removed my seatbelt.

I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls me from the seat and takes me back up to my room. The cold has started to soak in. My teeth are clacking together with every chatter and the goosebumps won’t go down no matter how hard I rub my bare arms.

We pass some of his men as we head towards the staircase. “The convertible is wrapped around a tree a quarter mile down the road,” he barks to one. “See to it the moment the rain has passed.”

“Got it, boss.”

I expect him to shove me into my room and then lock me inside. But he follows me in. I turn around, bracing myself against his anger.

But instead of yelling at me, he looks me up and down. “Take your clothes off.”

I blink. “W-what?”

“You’re going to catch pneumonia if you stay in those wet clothes,” he says, his tone snapping through the air like a whip. “Take them off and get in the bathroom.”