away from my heart, which was the scar Mila drew her fingers across. The touch made my skin crawl but was warm nonetheless. “Who?” she asked shakily. I knew she was asking who shot me—who almost killed me. But something inside me rebelled at telling her the truth. Mila wanted to live in a shiny bubble. A bubble her papa could be redeemed in. A bubble where his character looked a little dark but shiny nonetheless. She might learn a lot about how he’d done business when he was dead. That he kidnapped girls younger than her and sent them into the sex industry. Her bubble was going to be popped someday, but I couldn’t be the one to do it. I smiled and lied, “No one you know.” Her fingers slipped off my chest, leaving a weird sense of absence behind. She stepped back to give room for Kirill to set up a blood bag. I gave him a silent warning to not put any pain-relief drugs in my IV. I hated the way they made me feel. At first, he’d complained, but now, he was used to it and merely nodded. Mila hovered as if there was something she could do to help. I’d never been the source of someone’s concern before her. I didn’t need it. Here I was, four gunshots in and still alive. Yet Mila was on a roll trying to string some Russian together to ask Kirill about my condition. I suddenly hated her concern. I hated it because I liked it. And the latter wasn’t conducive in any way. Once she was gone, karma would leave me pining for a woman’s love over a bowl of soggy Fruit Loops. I needed to stop this Hallmark avalanche now. “We both got off, Mila,” I said harshly. “I’m not sure what you’re waiting around here for.” She took a step back at my words, her complexion paling. And now I hated myself. What was a little self-loathing added to the mix? “Okay,” she murmured. “I guess Pll go then.” Mila hesitated for a second before turning to leave as if it was the last thing she wanted. I didn’t think it was what I wanted either. She gave me a fleeting glance in the doorway that tightened my chest, and then she was gone. I wondered if that was the exact scene that would play out in less than two days’ time—a glimpse of her yellow hair and a brief meeting of eyes before a gnawing absence set in.