Page 43 of Sexting the Pakhan

My body feels like it has been shaken apart and put back together incorrectly, but at least I’m physically okay. That has to count for something.

Me:I’m not shot. I’m just scared.

The typing bubble appears immediately.

Then disappears.

Then appears again.

Karina:Where are you?

I stare at the question until the words blur a little.

Behind me, Ruslan is near the window, speaking quietly into his phone. I don’t understand the language, but I understand the tone.

I look toward the door, then at the windows facing the sea.

I don’t even know where I am. A house outside the city. By the water. Gated. Guarded. Full of men who vanish when Ruslan looks at them.

That is not something I can text Karina.

Not because I don’t trust her. Because I don’t know who else might see it. Because Ruslan said my apartment isn’t safe, and despite how much I hate him right now, a very cold part of me believes him. Because if Karina panics and sends police to wherever this place is, I have no idea what happens next.

And because I’m still sitting in a mafia boss’s house wearing his coat.

I press my fingers over my mouth for a second.

Mafia.

No. I can’t put that in a message.

I can’t even think it without feeling like the floor is dropping away under me.

Karina:Zoya!! Where. Are. You.

My thumbs hover over the screen.

Me:I can’t say yet.

Karina:WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

Me:I’m somewhere safe.

Karina:Safe where?

Me:Away from the library.

Karina:WITH WHO?

My stomach tightens.

I glance at Ruslan. He has turned slightly, not enough to make it obvious he’s watching me, but enough that I know he’s aware of the phone in my hand. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t haveto say it. It’s in the way his attention keeps returning to me, measuring every movement.

Maybe he thinks I know something. Maybe to him I’m not just unlucky. Maybe I’m part of the problem until proven otherwise.

The thought makes my throat ache.

I text carefully.