NIKOLAI
THE DOOR SLAMMED open. I turned my head sharply, muscles tensing as a man walked in, and Christ—I didn’t need to be told he was Claude’s father. The resemblance was enough. The weight he carried in his steps was enough.
Then the door opened again, and she—Ava—was rushed inside. Unconscious, clothes filthy, body limp in someone’s arms. I shot to my feet, my pulse hammering as I waited for the door to open once more. For him to walk through it.
But he didn’t.
“Where the f**k is he?” My voice was sharp, my steps quick as I closed the distance between me and Claude’s father. He stopped, his face twisted in something close to pain before he turned and took the stairs two at a time.
A pit opened up in my stomach. Something was wrong. Something was very f*****g wrong.
I ran
