LOGINSasha's PovWe walk for a while after the call before either of us says anything.I know who Matteo is. Nico told me about him months ago, in the way you tell someone about a thing that happened so it can't be used against you later. The version Nico gave was brief and factual and I'd filed it under irrelevant.Standing on the Arbat in the dark with Nico's wrist wrapped next to mine, it feels less irrelevant."I'm not calling him back," Nico says."I didn't ask.""You didn't have to." He glances at me. "I'm telling you anyway."I keep walking."Sasha.""I heard you," I say."Then why do you have that jaw.""I always have this jaw.""You have a specific jaw for specific situations and this is the Matteo one." He steps in front of me, which forces me to stop. He holds up his phone and turns the screen toward me. The message history is open. I read it. Matteo's message, brief and warm, and Nico's response, which he typed while I was apparently not watching.“Don't contact me again. I'm
Nico's PovShe asks us the question and neither of us answers for long enough that she writes something in her notebook, which I decide not to think about."Let me rephrase," she says. "Not the mechanics, the function. What did the violence do for each of you, in the context of the relationship."Sasha is looking at the wall. He does this when he's deciding something. I've learned to wait it out."It was the only register we had," he says finally. "At the beginning. It was the only language that felt honest."She looks at him. "Honest in what sense.""In the sense that everything else was performance." He pauses. "The violence wasn't."She writes something. Then she looks at me."And for you."I look at my hands. "It felt like being seen," I say. "That sounds wrong.""It doesn't sound wrong," she says. "Keep going.""Most people either want something from me or they're afraid of me. Both of those things put distance between me and whoever I'm in the room with." I pause. "With him it
Sasha's PovMarco talks a great deal.That's my primary observation about him over the course of three hours. He is Italian in a way that feels like a full-time commitment. He uses his hands when he speaks, which I understand is cultural, but the volume seems optional and he doesn't exercise that option. He's not doing anything wrong. That's the other observation. He's not crossing a line or making a move. He's just sitting very close to Nico on the sofa and laughing at everything Nico says. Occasionally touching his arm when he makes a point, which happens often because Marco makes a great many points.I sit in the chair across the room and I read the Papadis follow-up report for the third time without absorbing a single word."Sasha," Nico says.I look up."Marco asked what region of Russia you're from.""Volgograd," I say, and look back at the report.Marco says something in Italian I don't acknowledge. Nico says something back that I also don't acknowledge, and I hear the shape
Nico's PovHe calls while I'm still in the car from the airport."There are dishes in the sink," he says, instead of hello."Hello to you too.""I'm serious. There are three cups, a bowl, a pan and they have been there since you left."I look out the car window at Moscow sliding past in the late afternoon grey. "I was gone for four days, Sasha.""Yes. And you left dishes in the sink before you went.""I was going to do them when I got back.""You were going to…" He stops. "You were going to leave dirty dishes in my sink for four days and then return and wash them.""That's exactly what I was going to do, yes.""That's insane.""It's practical. Why wash dishes in a kitchen you're leaving?""Because they're dishes. You wash them when you use them. That's what washing up means.""In your culture, maybe.""In every culture, Nico.""I dispute that strongly." I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. "Are they still in the sink?""Yes. I haven't touched them.""Why not, if they bo
Sasha's PovThe first morning he sleeps until eight, which surprises me. I've been up since five. I've had coffee and read the overnight briefings and dealt with two things Dima should have handled himself, and when I come back to the bedroom with a second cup he's still there, on his side, one arm off the pillow, completely out.I sit at the desk. I read the remaining briefings.At eight-fifteen he makes the sound that means he's coming back. A small shift, then stillness, then the particular quality of being awake but not ready to say so. I've catalogued this without intending to."Stop watching me wake up," he says, into the pillow."I'm not watching you. I'm reading.""You're watching me and also reading. You can do both, it's annoying." He rolls over. His hair is unreasonable. He doesn't care. "Is there coffee.""There's one on the nightstand."He sees it. Something in his face does a thing I don't have a clean word for. "Thank you," he says."It's just coffee.""I know what it
Nico's PovHe finds me outside the café on a narrow street that smells like diesel and stone, and I am sitting on the kerb with my back against the wall and my knees pulled up. Both hands pressed flat to the pavement because the pavement is real and cold that helps.He doesn't say anything when he arrives. He just crouches down in front of me, which puts him below my eyeline, which I understand is deliberate, and he waits."I'm okay," I say."I know," he says."It was his hand on my arm. The grip of it." I look at the pavement between my palms. "It was the same, the angle was the same as…""You don't have to explain it.""I know I don't have to." I breathe out slowly. "I want to. I want you to understand what happened so you don't think I'm…" I stop."I don't think anything," he says. "Take your time."I take my time.After a while the street comes back properly. The sounds of it. A scooter somewhere. Someone's music two floors up. Sasha still crouched in front of me in his Moscow clo
Chapter 63: Left Knee Or RightNico's POV We track Boris to a quiet dacha on the edge of Macau. An old safe house that would seem unoccupied if we didn’t know he was in there right now. Sasha drives. I ride shotgun, watching the snow-dusted pines slide past the windows. Neither of us speak much. W
Chapter 62: Walk out and disappear' Nico's POV We’ve been at it for three days straight, holed up in the warehouse, fueled by black coffee and takeout. I must say, the last three days have been pretty awkward—but not the bad type of awkward. The satisfying type. After seven whole months, three da
Chapter 61Let's not talk about last night Nico's POV Morning creeps in through the blinds. There is a very delicious ache all over my body. I feel ravaged and kind of happy. But the warmth from hours ago is gone.I snap my eyes open and look around the room.Sasha is not here.When did I even fa
Chapter 60Mark me again Nico's POV The kiss doesn't soften. It detonates.Sasha's mouth crashes against mine like he's trying to punish me for every second we've been apart—teeth scraping, tongue demanding, a low growl rumbling from his chest that vibrates straight through me. My back is still p







