The Devil who raised me

pieces on the trai

he. My palms sting with fresh blisters. But the dummy's

open. I spin,

e-hair wild, sweat dripping down my neck, surrounded b

sher says I throw lik

ay with a sandwich and milk.

s me moan. At the orphanage, meat wa

ers. "Because no

e. Asher's voice, muffled but unmistakable:

inish your foo

r down. "...border crossing...", "...twenty kilos m

turns to ash

he tray away.

on broken glass. Blood drips onto the Persian rug. Asher stands

t through th

second-into something else.

shadows stretch longer. Every creak

on my window. -

re comes li

g. The smell of urine and mold. Then hand

e gas

my bed. Moonlight glints

s, like we're discu

oat too tight

he sweat-damp hair stuck to my forehead. "The Italians took

s outside. Headligh

es. "Mira has orders. There are t

e blanket.

r you to master that knife throw.

or slams. En

om his pocket-a small black switchblade. "For em

"You're giving

th. "I'm giving you

he's

hes differently

hole in my pajama pocket. The training room is dark,

UN

. The knife clatte

heti

, with Asher's sharp cheekbones but none of his c

membering Mira's warnings.

tray he dragged home." With a flick of his wrist, he sends the bla

my pocket. "He said I could s

steps closer. Too close. "Funny. He

the dim light. His eyes dr

rings up

t-not rough, but firm. "Listen carefull

erupts o

ams. The staccato pop

ng me toward the door

dow exp

Nikolai yanks me down as bull

s, blood dripping from his

de snaps open

s, I hear Asher's voi

ians are alr