Snow swirled through the icy wind as a group of village girls giggled beneath a tall pine tree. Among them sat Yuki, her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to memorize the Russian words they taught her. Now and then her lips moved, carefully repeating each phrase. Whenever the girls gave her a thumbs-up, she smiled shyly and pushed herself to learn more.
She was in the middle of attempting her first full Russian sentence when a deep, roaring engine shattered the peaceful afternoon.
A black car sped down the slippery road, its tires kicking up shards of broken ice. The girls fell silent and watched the vehicle as it went past them.
And the moment Yuki saw it, her blood froze.
She knew that car. Even after months… she recognized it almost instantly.
It was Igor's car, she knew it for sure.
A cold, suffocating dread coiled around her chest. She knew that car would never be coming unless something was terribly, disastrously wrong.
