Page 64 of Maksim
What is going on?
The SUV pulls out of the drive and crawls down the street more terrifyingly than when Maksim was speeding us here. The man—or demon, I’m not sure which—beside me doesn’t move. I know because I watch him closely out of the corner of my eye. As far as I can tell, he isn’t even breathing. Maybe he isn’t human. That would explain the one weird, red eye and sharp cheekbones that belong more on a fictional figure than on a man. Dark hair hangs ominously, like he’s trying to hide the evil bursting from his red iris, but it only adds to his villainous look. My eyes scan his all-black clothing for a minute before moving away.
He looks like a killer. Feels like a killer.
Why are we with a killer?
I peer at Maksim, hoping he can read my thoughts so I don’t have to voice the questions.
His jaw is set, and his posture is perfect. He looks as all business as the other men, if not more so. As I study him staring straight ahead, I search for fear or uncertainty, but I see nothing but confidence.
More than that. It’s hard to put a word to it, but he looks … in control? Is he in control?
I don’t think so. But the dominant vibe he puts off says otherwise. My heart starts to slow as Maksim’s aura envelops me, pushing away the fear of the other men.
He’ll protect me.
It isn’t my head that thinks this, it’s my gut. Or the fact that I’m useful now. Or it’s wishful thinking.
In any case, my breathing evens as I stare straight ahead just like everyone else.
The sun has set, and the city lights are out of view by the time we reach our destination, which is not a random spot in the desert to dump our bodies.
It’s a mansion.
Not a house. No one would ever call this place a house. It isn’t until the driver pulls up to the gate and says Maksim is here for Mr. Petrov that I realize this isn’t some sort of hotel.
The gate opens, and we roll toward the monstrosity, lit up like someone forgot to turn the lights off in every room. A long row of cars are parked along the driveway, but we pass them all and pull up to the front, just in front of the door.
What is this place?
The demonic man is the first to step out, and the two up front follow shortly after. Maksim opens his door but leans toward me to whisper his first words since we left Hugh’s.
“Keep your head down and be silent.”
That’s it. That’s all the wisdom he imparts on me before he slips from the SUV and holds out his hand for me, his face stern as the day I met him.
What’s going on?
I want to ask so badly, but I can tell he doesn’t want me to. He wouldn’t have waited until we had the briefest moment alone to speak to me if it didn’t matter.
I take his hand and let him help me out then shuffle behind him up a set of stone steps to the door. The two men who were up front are on our heels.
The demon leads the way inside while I walk so closely behind Maksim that my crossed arms graze his back.
Seductive instrumental music plays throughout the place, and people mill around, but I don’t look at them, instead keeping my head down like Maksim said to. It strikes me how easy it is to listen to him now when days ago it felt impossible.
Even walking through halls, I still can’t tell what this place is supposed to be. It seems like a party venue, but we can’t be here for that. The farther we walk, the more the music and voices fade, until it’s gone completely and we’ve come to a sliding, wooden door.
The demon leads the way inside, but I’m hesitant to follow Maksim this time. The hairs on my neck stand up straight, and my feet naturally shift backward. Something tells me not to go in that room.
Maksim pauses to look back at me, but instead of saying anything, he just looks at me seriously, his eyes slightly wide, his jaw clenched.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I follow him inside, halting when I spot the familiar cane leaned against a purple velvet chair, one of four in the room.
“There she is,” Maksim’s boss, Nikita, says. His voice slithers down my spine like a snake, making me want to frantically bat it away, but I stay perfectly still until the man behind me pushes me forward.
Nikita wraps his arm around my shoulders and leans on me like he’s replacing me as his cane. “This is the ruthless murderer you’ve been searching for?”