Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

The electronic voice says, “Thank you. Please hold.”
I hear a series of clicks, like the line is being transferred.
Then: “Hello, Natalie.”
The voice is male, raspy, and heavily accented. He sounds
like a two-pack-a-day smoker. It’s definitely not Kage.
“Who’s this?”
“Maxim Mogdonovich.”
I lose the ability to breathe. In a state of shock, I stand
frozen, gaping at the kitchen cabinets.
“I assume by your silence you know who I am?”
My hands shaking and my stomach in knots, I whisper, “I
know who you are.”
Kage. Oh god, Kage. What’s happened to you?
Because something must’ve happened. Something terrible.
The head of the Russian mafia wouldn’t be calling from prison
to wish me happy birthday.
“Good. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling.”
He pauses, waiting for me to say something, but my lungs
are frozen. All of me is frozen in pure, cold terror. Except my
heart, which is now beating frantically like a hummingbird’s
wings.
He continues in a calm, conversational tone.
“To be honest, dorogoy, when I first discovered what was
going on, I couldn’t believe it. My own Kazimir, like a son to
me these past twenty years, would never disobey me. He
would never lie to me. And he definitely wouldn’t betray me.
Especially for a woman.”
Disobey? Betray? What the hell is he talking about?
“But all those unexplained trips to the West Coast made
me curious, so I sent a little birdie to have a look. When I saw
your picture, it made slightly more sense. So pretty. All that
black hair.”