Every instinct tells her to run.
Kala sits on the edge of her bed. She forces herself not to panic, to think rationally. She's been home for almost an hour. If someone is still in her flat, if someone had wanted to hurt her...Well. Something would have happened by now. Instead, someone simply left her a note.
Kala looks around furtively, her logic doing little to calm her fear. She wonders if the point isn't so much to solicit a meeting as to intimidate: to establish that if she wanted to, Lila could have done anything. Instead, she chose to leave a message. Both literally and figuratively.
Kala breathes out, clenches her teeth to keep them from chattering. The shock of discovering that someone uninvited was in her flat while she wasn't home chills her.
She stands abruptly and grabs her cellphone from the charger. She focuses past her trembling fingers to press the redial button, pacing while Wolfgang's phone rings. And rings. And rings.
She hangs up without leaving a message and sits back on her bed, uncharacteristically lost.
She finds Felix's number in her contacts. She stares blankly at it, not sure what to tell Felix, or what she expects him to do from his mother's home in Wuppertal. Maybe he can reach Wolfgang, but then what? How long must she wait while they decide what to do?
Kala gives a sharp exhale.
She recalls her odd exchange with Lukas; how uneasy he looked. He had offered to help her, tonight of all nights.
Up until this moment she had been unsure about his connection to Lila. There was no proof that Lila came to Berlin because of Lukas: Everything until now was conjecture, supported only by Felix catching the pair having lunch on a Saturday afternoon. But today, unexpectedly, Lukas offered his help outside of work. Did he know that Lila would leave this note? Did he actively plan this with Lila, only to feel guilty later? Or was this an elaborate trick to make Lukas look like some kind of hero?
Kala's heart races, fear giving way to growing suspicion.
Lila knows the club opens on Thursday nights. She probably knows that Felix is out of town; that Wolfgang works alone, busier than usual. Too busy to be with his girlfriend tonight. What better time to create a crisis for Kala, who would have no one else to turn to?
Kala re-reads the note crumpled in her hand.
How well do you think you know Wolfgang? Maybe it's time we meet. LF
Beneath the initials is a phone number, likely Lila's.
Kala stares at it defiantly, anger welling in her chest. Why would Lila think she would ever call her, that Kala would ever want to meet? Especially after the way Lila delivered her message?
Kala's mouth pulls together in a grim line, her thoughts returning to Lukas. She wonders why he would believe, after the tension of the last month - of the last several months - that Kala would turn to him for help, even after finding that someone has broken into her flat? Did he believe her to be that naive? That helpless?
As suddenly as Kala's temper flares, it fades. Regardless of her opinion of Lukas or her stubborn refusal to admit fear, she is deeply unnerved.
She looks around - at the ruined red dress thrown casually over the computer chair, at the closed cabinet where her things are kept: Everything looks as she left it this morning.
But her flat is no longer a haven. And the knowledge that a stranger came and went at a whim leaves her feeling faint. It's impossible to stay tonight. Tomorrow she'll call the landlord, ask that the locks be replaced as soon as possible. But until that's done, she cannot sleep here.
Kala grabs a small suitcase from her closet. She packs a few clothes, some toiletries, her laptop. She thinks where she should go, at least for now. There is a hostel maybe a block north, and a proper hotel two blocks west.
She calls the hotel and finds a room that she reserves for two nights.
Wolfgang's eyes narrow as he recognizes the solitary figure that approaches from the other side of the nearly empty gym.
He should have guessed she would eventually find him here.
He shakes his head, turns his attention back to the heavy bag still swinging lightly from its chain.
He moves around the bag, jabs it lightly to gauge distance before he delivers a hard right kick. The chains rattle as the bag swings with the force of the blow. Wolfgang pivots and throws a hook to the side of the bag.
All the while the sound of Lila's heeled footsteps draw nearer until it stops altogether.
He doesn't bother to turn. "I thought you'd be gone by now," he says casually. Wolfgang pivots around the heavy bag again. He throws a combination of hard punches before he switch-kicks with his left leg. He ignores Lila, who stands somewhere behind him, silent, and focuses instead on the swinging bag. He slips right, then left, sweat pooling down his spine.
He pauses, eyes focused on the bag, when he feels Lila touch his shoulder, her fingers trailing down his bare back. She chases a bead of sweat along his spine, her touch light, teasing, against his heated skin.
Wolfgang turns to face her, expression wary as she slides her palm along his waist. Her eyes narrow when she catches sight of the mark on his neck, but she ignores it, merely looks at him with an expectant stare.
"I thought you'd be gone by now," he repeats.
Lila moves closer. She presses both palms against his abs, breathes deeply. "I always did like to watch you work," she sighs. Her eyes look at him with open invitation. "We have unfinished business, Sexy. And you've been avoiding me."
Wolfgang grunts, pushes against her hands as he turns again to the bag, jabbing lightly. "That's because you can't take no for an answer," he says. "How long have you been waiting here?"
Her eyebrows lift at his presumption. "You think I waited for you?" she retorts.
Wolfgang throws her a half smile, acknowledging his mistake. He goes to the gym after finishing at the office, usually just an hour or two before the gym itself closes. But Lila knows this, and so he has not been going during his set time. Today, he goes earlier, just after lunch time, when he knows the gym is mostly empty. "Did you ask them to call you when I got here?"
Lila smiles enigmatically but doesn't reply.
Wolfgang throws random punches at the bag, tries to refocus on kickboxing, but his concentration is disrupted, aware that Lila watches him intently. He turns again to face her; she stares back with an angelic expression.
"Lila," he says, "we're done. You can tell Fischer you tried, but we're through."
Lila's eyes flash but her expression doesn't change. "I didn't come here because of Lukas Fischer," she says, dismissive. "I came because I don't know what's going on in your head. You promised to help me."
Wolfgang frowns. "I promised to help you when you thought you were in trouble," he says. "You weren't. In fact, things sound great. And I'm not starting any trouble with Fuchs just because you want Berlin."
"With you. I want Berlin with you!" Lila looks at Wolfgang impatiently. "Baby, we can take this city if we want it. Fuchs won't even try because of the Russians. I'm stuck in Munich. In Bavaria." She gives a pout that's all the more ridiculous given the power Wolfgang knows she has. And she wants more. Always more.
He scoffs. "I don't give a shit," he says. He turns back to the heavy bag, throws a hard, poorly aimed punch that jars his wrist. He curses softly, annoyed that he allows Lila to distract him. "You want Berlin, take it yourself. I won't interfere."
"Oh?" Lila reaches for his injured hand and removes the glove, her eyes daring him to stop her. He doesn't: He watches as she turns his troubled wrist, presses her fingers gently along the tendons and bone, protected by a black wrap that covers his hand. "You really need to be more careful," she says. "You've broken this several times already."
"Just twice," he says. He takes his glove back from her. "The two times you saw." Both times had been because of her.
Lila's brows arch. She watches him put on his glove, drawing the strap tightly over his wrist.
"Why don't you want it?" she asks suddenly. Her eyes are bright with curious frustration. "Why don't you want to take over, take your place, have your revenge? We used to dream of it, Wolfgang: the day we would answer to no one but ourselves. And we can still have it."
"I've had my revenge." Wolfgang's expression is harsh: too many thoughts, too many memories, rear their heads at his words. He looks cooly at Lila. "And so have you. We did exactly what we said. We answer to no one but ourselves. We have everything we've talked about."
Lila's lips thin. Her mercurial temperament grows brittle. "Is that what you've convinced yourself?" she asks. "Because Steiner and Anton are dead you think we should be satisfied? I'm not. No one is running Berlin. Maybe pieces of it, but not the whole city. Not the way your grandfather did. Because everyone is afraid of you, that you'll change your mind." She stands close, her body almost pressed against him, her eyes suddenly soft, voice low: "Baby, I can help you. Take Berlin, and we'll run this city together."
Her hand strokes his back, her hips cant against him, grinding a little against his cock.
He isn't immune to her. Lila has a confident sexuality that is almost impossible to ignore, particularly when she is like this: soft and yielding and intent on seducing him. Six months ago it was how he ended up in her bed in Amsterdam, promising to rid her of Fuchs, even if it meant going back to old alliances.
He stares down at her hooded gaze, aware of the effect she still has on him, but curiously detached.
He moves her away, shakes his head. "I told you," he says quietly, coldly. "I don't want it. If I had wanted it, I would have taken it years ago. Without you. I don't need your help." He turns his back to her, punches the bag with renewed vigor, annoyed, upset, angry over Lila's persistence.
She is silent for several seconds, but he can feel her outage.
"Is it her?" she asks bluntly, incredulous. "Is it because of your new girlfriend? Because Baby, if you think you're going to stay clean and get married and have children and grow old together in the countryside you are insane. You're a Bogdanow." She exhales sharply, pauses as if she can't believe she has to state the obvious. "A common life isn't for people like us, Wolfgang. Does she know? Does your scientist know you're a thief and a killer from a family of thieves and killers? Sentimentale del cazzo." Lila curses under her breath, her tone heavy with scorn.
She says nothing that he hasn't told himself, that he hasn't thought over and over in the last several days, in the last several weeks.
And yet with each sentence, she twists a knife he put in himself. Sentimental Fuck.
Wolfgang punishes the bag with several heavy blows. It rattles furiously on its chains, swings awkwardly in haphazard directions until he grabs it, breath ragged.
He says nothing for several seconds while he gathers his composure, containing his fury. When he turns, his expression is so forbidding that Lila takes an instinctive step back.
"I chose to have nothing to do with the kings or the Russians long before Kala," he says. "I don't know why you find that so difficult to believe, after everything we've been through. You, me, Felix." He watches the light flicker in her eyes, the flush that comes across her face; years later and the memories still haunt her, as they do him. "You don't need to remind me who I am. I know. Every single day, I know."
She relaxes warily, her expression softens.
"So maybe," he adds, his voice low, eyes steely, "you should remember that, too. You and Fuchs. Leave me alone. Leave Kala alone. Because I am a Bogdanow."
He gives a faint, dangerous smirk as her mouth falls open in disbelief. He releases his hold on the heavy bag, resumes his drills, jabbing lightly, pivoting before he throws another punch. His back is turned in a roundhouse kick when he hears her footsteps retreat.
He doesn't stop for another hour, using the bag to relieve his anger, his arms and legs finally growing too heavy to continue. He wipes the sweat impatiently from his eyes, presses his forehead against the bag as he catches his breath.
Lila knows how to push him. Sometimes he lets her goad him; most times he ignores her. They've known each other long enough to not care. But today, he doesn't think she intended to do so. Today she had only wanted to hear him say he doesn't want any of the things she mocked; to affirm that while he may be in the throes of a heated romance, he knows it can go nowhere.
Instead, he'd reminded her of what he's capable of if she and Lukas interfere.
He gives the bag a final punch.
Wolfgang walks to the corner where he'd left his gym bag, taking his gloves off, undoing the wraps. He drops everything into the bag, grabbing a towel that he uses to wipe his face and torso before draping it across his shoulders.
He picks up his bag and heads out, reaching for his phone in the side pocket. It's not there. He stops, looks quickly through the side pocket again, then the inside of his bag. The phone is definitely gone.
Wolfgang curses loud enough for the sound to echo. He grabs his keys, annoyed, maybe even angry.
Lila must have taken this phone. He'd used it earlier to talk to Yeruslan. Wolfgang's face is grim.
He doesn't know what game she plays, but if Lila wasn't afraid of him before, he thinks he needs to have another talk with her alone.
A/N: June was a series of unfortunate events, so I'm grateful to you all for still reading. Here's to a peaceful July!My lovely beta came up with this title. Thank you @halcyon_redAnd thank you to my friend and Tumblr Cuz @thank_god_for_gravity for helping out where I (Lila) needed itAs always, reviews are very much appreciated!