Part of Your World

Hurt

Aria

I sat on the rickety old bed, clutching my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on them, gazing out the open door and into the makeshift living room. Everything was dirty; covered in a layer of dust that all warehouses seemed to accumulate over the years. My eyes watched, absorbing every detail—I didn't know what might become helpful...if he was even looking for me.

A huge part of me doubted he was; I'd left in such a petulant way, it wouldn't surprise me if he just threw his hands up and said to hell with her. His words—though they stung horribly and festered for days—were true, and I'd come to terms with that fact. I needed to hear them. And though I'd left out of sheer hurt and anger, it hadn't taken me long to shift course, to decide to come home to Maine and fix my past once and for all. I could do it alone, I knew that, and Maks deserved that after all he'd done to help me.

I couldn't let him fall more in love with me if I couldn't even face those demons, if I couldn't give my mother the justice she deserved.

A hulking figure came into view, his back to me as he settled into the decrepit reclining chair. I hadn't made it far; they'd been waiting for an opportunity to snatch me, and all of Maks' worry and fear turned real for me in the span of two seconds. I felt an idiot for ever thinking he was being overbearing, a tyrant; he clearly knew his world better than I did, and I was kicking myself for not listening. The only blessing was getting a free ride to Portland, though where I was now I didn't know. And why...the why's were still circling in my mind, giving me a horrible headache.

They'd not been gentle, though they'd not been cruel, either. It was confusing, to be sure, and though I had an inkling as to who they were, I was still quite in the dark. I stiffened as the beefy man turned, pale eyes catching mine as he smirked. He raised his beer to me before turning back to the tv. Another man entered, both of them familiar—both of them my only companions.

My ears perked as they spoke in hushed tones, words in Russian. I pinched my eyes closed as I listened, turning my head away to hide my growing smile.

The one weapon I now possessed would hopefully save my life.

I could understand every word they spoke.

Maks

I pulled off my sunglasses, the bright day dazzling. I was exhausted, but I was here, and I wasn't going to stop looking for her.

"Where do we start?" Niko asked beside me. I frowned, eyes taking in the drastic change of scenery; the wintry ports, the brick buildings, the quiet, unassuming streets. This was no New York. Finding her should be easier, right?

"We start where her father works and go from there. Claire gave us her home address," I said, glancing at him. He was frowning at passerby, thinking quietly.

"Is it just me or is it way more fucking cold here?"

I took a steadying breath through my nose, my eyes slipping closed in annoyance. If the Rusalka's didn't kill us, Serg would do the trick.

"Who let you come?" I growled again. He clapped my shoulder, grinning.

"Ummm me, dumbass. If I get to spill some of those fucker's blood—"

Niko silenced him with a look of death while I shrugged his hand off.

"This isn't time to play fucking games, Serg. Get serious," I hissed. He rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone.

"Let's get set up in our hotel and make a game plan," Niko said, already exasperated. I nodded, shouldering my bag and following him through the snowy streets, my eyes searching every face for those familiar, haunting features of the woman I loved.