“That can’t be right.” I’m shaking my head, retreating farther and farther back in my seat as if it can also send me back in time. “They wouldn’t have written the constitution to a country like that. Not to pacify some crazy conspiracy theorists.”
“But they weren’t crazy, were they?” Noah asks.
And that, of course, is the problem.
“It’s in the constitution,” I say, suddenly defeated.
“I’m not saying the Society is right, Grace,” Megan goes on. “But, according to this, Jamie doesn’t have a choice.”
I’m sixteen years old and short for my age—too thin and unstable for my own good. But I’ve never felt truly powerless before. Even strapped to a bed, medications and guilt pounding in my veins, I had the power to keep yelling about the Scarred Man. I had a mission, a cause. A vigilante’s surety that someday the world would see that I was right.
But that day has come and gone, and now I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it.
“Grace?”
The window is so black now. How is that possible? Outside, there aren’t even any lights. No distant towns or lone farmhouses. It’s like this train has carried us far, far out to sea.
Maybe that is why it feels like I am drowning.
You should probably wear a hat or something.”
It’s easy to forget—with all my crazy and my drama—that Alexei is still a wanted man. They still think he killed that cadet in Adria. There’s still a price on his head. And now he’s come back to Europe—to the belly of the beast.
Because of me.
And, suddenly, it scares me.
“You need to go back, Alexei.”
“I need to go back?”
The train car is empty. It’s supposed to be the café, but it’s too late. There is no one working behind the tiny bar. If a person wanted to buy a stale sandwich or bag of greasy chips, they’d be out of luck. Alexei and I are all alone.
There’s no Dominic looking over our shoulders, no Jamie lingering nearby.
“You shouldn’t have come to Europe.”
“I shouldn’t have come to Europe?” Alexei shouts.
“You can do something besides repeat everything I say, you know.”
“Oh, can I? Because what I want to do is strangle you. I want to tie you up and throw you over my shoulder and jump out of a moving train. I want to take you to the coldest place in Siberia, to the darkest part of the moon. I want to keep you safe, Gracie. So the question is, why are you so determined to stop me?”
“Is Jamie okay?”
His fingers are sliding into my hair, holding me still and keeping me close. I’m not going to run anymore, the gesture tells me. We are bound now. From this moment on … together.
“Gracie.” My name is like a breath, and I’m not sure Alexei even knows he’s said it.
“Is Jamie okay?” I remind myself that he’s the only thing that matters.
Alexei smiles, a wry expression that’s somehow lacking any joy.
His fingers massage my scalp, and I wilt against him.
“Jamie isn’t my primary concern at the moment.”
“You know what I mean, Alexei,” I say, pushing away. “Are they still on the run or are they someplace where Jamie can get better?”
Alexei steps back. It’s almost like he can’t face me anymore.
“You ran away.”
It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact. And that’s why he hates it.
“I ran so that the rest of you could stop running.”
Alexei spins. “You left!”
“Yes.” I somehow choke out the word, swallow hard. “And I’d do it again.”
“Not without me.” In a flash, Alexei has me. His arms are tight. “Never without me. Never again. Say it, Grace. Say it.”
“Okay.”
“Say it!” He stares down into my eyes.
“Never again.”
“I was so scared. When I woke up and you were gone … And then when I found you and those men were there …” He curses in Russian. “I was so scared.”
“Alexei.”
There’s no thinking after that. No worry and no fear. I’m aware only of the warmth that is radiating off Alexei, the rocking of the train.
And then Alexei’s lips are on mine, and I’m not aware of anything anymore. It’s different from the kiss on the bridge. There’s no urgency now. This isn’t about the heat of the moment and the danger. This is about now—right now. No future and no past.
“Ahem.”
Megan’s voice breaks through the fog that fills my head, and I stop the kiss, but there’s no pulling away from Alexei. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Megan says, then picks up a remote control and turns on the television that hangs behind the bar. “But we thought you’d like to see this.”
I know those buildings and those streets. I know that world. And I know I’ll never quite escape it.
Even if I wasn’t fluent in my mother’s native tongue, I’d know the meaning of the words that fill the screen.
A newscaster stands outside the police station while uniformed officials lead a man in handcuffs through the doors.
Then the picture changes.
“Alexei—” I start, but what comes next feels so surreal I can no longer say a thing.
Does Grandpa look older to everyone, or is it just me? His hair has been white all my life, but also thick and wavy. He’s always been the quintessential elder statesman. But he’s never looked elderly before.