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    Summary

    But the smoke clears and Hollander is gone and Ilya is alone again on this rooftop, and the cold is sobering, the tie at his neck too tight. Hollander knows fear too: No one is looking. You don’t know that.

    And now he is somewhere downstairs again, with aged liquor in his stomach and Ilya’s smoke on his breath, alone but in a different way. This, too, is Ilya’s fault somehow—the rooftop, his absence, the cigarette. The way Hollander had come up here in search of something and left with less than even that. 

    Ilya looks down at his hands. He knows how to do more than just take, he thinks. He just has to remember. 

    He curses, jabs the flame out until it’s ash, and finds his way back inside. 

    Series
    Language:
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