The Prey

The sprawling city of Moscow spread beneath us like a maze of lights and shadows, cold and strangely unfamiliar.

Judas, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed, one hand gripping the sleek black cane he now carried as part of his act. His other hand rested on his thigh, fingers idly tapping as he seemed deep in thought. He wore his confidence like a second skin, and it was both infuriating and captivating.

Sensing my gaze on him, he smirked. And I flushed.

“Relax, ptichka,” he said without turning to look at me. “You’ll draw attention if you keep looking...