Then he turns to me, his pale eyes burning with a furor I’ve never seen before. “This is not the end,” he spits.
For a moment, it’s just me and Mikhail. Fear overrides everything else. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.
Then Ivan grabs him by the back of his shirt and hurls him down the street. Mikhail lands hard with a grunt and the whole gathered crowd sucks in a shocked breath. We all watch as he climbs to his feet, gives us one more skewering look, then disappears around the corner.
I don’t realize how tightly I’m gripping the edge of the trash can until Ivan’s hands smooth over mine. Gently, he pries my fingernails away from the wooden lip.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice low and serious. His right sleeve is dripping water. A droplet carves its way down his bicep and rolls o
