Book 3: Fidgety

Eleni

I pace back and forth in the guest bedroom we’ve set up as my kind-of office over the last few days. Dante got me a laptop, and Tony brought my school books on one of his many trips up here. I could study. Maybe I should be studying. Classes start in two days. But neither Dante or I have actually, seriously said we’re going back to the city yet. I lift the blinds to check on him and Tony on the deck.

They’re both gone. For a split second, cold fear grips my heart. The Russians found the safe house, and they took both of them while I stood up here. Any second now, the door to this room will burst in, and I’ll be back in that fucking cell before I know it.

Someone knocks on the door, and my heart skips a beat. But Russians wouldn’t knock. Dante would.

“Come in!” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound panicky.

Dante opens the door and steps in. He looks taller, prouder than he did a minute ago. My battered heart leaps.

“What did