“Come in, Senna,” I said. It had been a long time since I’d seen her, but she hadn’t changed, at least on the outside, and though we’d been close, Senna was one of the few people I’d never fully understood.
“How did you know it was me?” she said when she opened the door.
“Maxim doesn’t knock,” I said.
She closed the door behind her. “Does Milan?” she asked.
I glared at her, but she ignored me.
“You’re going with her?” I finally asked skeptically.
“Just to see her off. Do you want to know where she’s going?”
“Don’t tell me,” I said. I couldn’t know where she was, because if I did, I might eventually give in to the temptation to go after her, I wanted to give in to that temptation now. I couldn’t, though, because if I even entertained the thought, I wouldn’t be able to resist it.
“You’re really going to let her leave, even though you love her?” Senna asked.
“It’s for the best,” I said. The words were right, logical, but they rang hollow, no matter how true they were.
She let out a laugh, but one bitter, devoid of humor. “I bet you never asked her what she thought was best,” Senna said.
No, I hadn’t, but I hadn’t needed to. Whatever Milan thought, whatever she felt, I had known what I was doing was best, still knew it was best despite the tiny seeds of doubt springing up in my thoughts.
Senna went quiet and walked toward the door. She reached for it but then stopped.
“Her plane leaves in two days,” she said.
Thirty-Eight
Milan
“Is this the plane?” I asked, looking at the man I now knew was Adrian, one of Maxim’s associates and, as best I could tell, though I’d never actually seen them in a room together, a friend of Senna’s.
He nodded but didn’t speak, and it was only then that I realized I had never heard him say anything, except when he’d had his gun to my head.
I’d only caught glimpses of him after that, but without Senna here, the trepidation he created without even seeming to try came back full force.
It was that discomfort that moved me onto the plane, skeptical though I was about its origins. I’d expected a commercial flight, and this was not commercial. Still, getting onto this plane or spending time with Adrian was an easy choice.
Even without the gun to the back of my head, he was still very intimidating, and I was happy to be out of his presence.
I quickly ascended the short steps onto the plane and paused, ready to step out. This certainly couldn’t be it. When Senna had told me she’d see me off, I thought she’d ride with me to the airport, but she was nowhere to be found.
This couldn’t be right.
I should have gotten her phone number, but I had neglected to do so and now had no way to contact anyone. I felt silly, hovering in the doorway, and I still had no desire to actually engage Adrian, so I made my way into the plane, letting my fingers trail on the soft leather of the seats.
I sat, and then waited for someone to come inside and tell me I was in the wrong place, but nothing of the sort happened.
There was nothing for me to do, so I sat and waited.
And waited some more.
I didn’t have a watch but it felt like nearly a half hour had passed. When I looked out the window I saw Adrian still standing, staring, and decided to continue to wait. I’d only talk to him if it was a last resort, and it wasn’t like I had anywhere to be.
I must have spaced out, because when I turned at the sound of someone entering the plane, I fully expected to see Senna.
But it wasn’t her. It was Priest.
“Why are you here?” I asked, ignoring the stutter of my heart at the sight of him.
“Because I don’t have another choice.”
“Did Maxim send you or something?”
“No. He didn’t,” he said, his expression almost soft.
“Then why are you here?” I asked. I hoped I knew the reason, but I wouldn’t let that hope overtake my reason, or overtake it any more than it had already.
Instead of answering, he came closer, but I didn’t look at him and tried to pretend I didn’t want to. He’d said all he needed to, and today was the day I began my life again. I wouldn’t start that new life by dreaming of him, begin it in mourning of what I’d lost and not what I’d prayed I would gain.
“Milan, I’m not Nikolai,” he said.
I glared at him. Hateful, scornful words designed to lash out at him formed in my mind, words designed to hurt him as his utter rejection of the man I’d believed him to be hurt me. But I couldn’t make them come out. Instead, I said the thing that was most pressing in my thoughts.