"Thanks, but the band was Velichko's idea. If he isn't going, neither am I," Volya said hoarsely. "That's final."

"Wolkov, the paperwork is done. You're leaving first thing tomorrow morning. There's simply no time to process anyone else."

The way Anna Leonidovna said process sent shivers down his spine. Internship wasn't an international adoption, but surely, taking a minor out of an orphanage for a work term warranted a bureaucratic maelstrom. And it was all taken care of just like that? Behind his back?!

Volya gaped at her, fighting an unpleasant sensation of being gift-wrapped and sold. "This doesn't sound right, Anna Leonidovna. Don't you see it?" See, hear, smell... whatever.

"Go pack."

He stifled a derisive snort. He could replace his wardrobe with one visit to the city dump.

"No."

The interpreter was droning into Liam's ear, but the popstar stopped listening. He leaned forward, pressed Volya's elbow and whispered, "Trust me," in the secret tongue they apparently had a shared knowledge of.

Volya recoiled, darting a glance at the principal, like did you hear that? Anna Leonidovna was too busy cultivating a crop of red splotches on her cheeks to notice his plea for help.

One time he needed her! One frigging time!

To make things perfect, his body was doing the shivery thing again. Volya gritted his teeth together. Only Toshka should have this effect on him, period.

However, Liam's clutching fingers, his searching gaze... Volya recognized them. Once in a while, the younger boys came to him with grievances and this particular expression. The superstar was asking him for a favor, not offering him the world on a gold platter.

"What the...?" Volya couldn't ignore it the way he ignored the shivers. He had to help—he always had to help when they'd asked for it like that. But Liam? The popstar had the world at his feet, including lawyers, bodyguards, advisors and other staff who Volya couldn't even imagine...

It made no sense, no sense at all for the appeal to be there. And yet it was too strong to mistake it for anything else. It nearly overpowered the alarm bells in Volya's head. Liam no longer even smelled like a foreigner to him. He smelled like kin.

The smiling faces of strangers in the room bobbed and floated in a merry circle around Volya.

Kin? How could Liam become his kin at their first meeting? But something stirred deep in his soul, whispering how he was nothing without kin. That with his last breath Volya must protect his own, including Liam.

This was rubbish but try overpowering gut feeling with logic!

"Volya, are you okay?" Liam asked solicitously. Volya nearly snapped at the interpreter to shut up, but she was already repeating it in Russian.

The popstar's wide brows creased in what seemed a genuine worry.

"I'll help you, if you bring Velichko," Volya heard himself reply in the unknown language. It came out with surprising ease, even elegance.

Liam, who'd first introduced the mysterious language to him, shook his head, like I don't understand, sorry.

"I'll help you, if you bring Velichko," Volya repeated in Russian, puzzling over why he was fluent, and Liam wasn't.

The interpreter pinched her lips before doing her job. Let her!

Liam's reply was quiet and sad, as if he regretted having to refuse his request. "I can't do it, Volya."

"Then thank you kindly and good luck with the rest of your life!" Volya flew out of the principal's office, slamming the doors behind him. Plaster dust swirled gracefully through the air.

"Wolkov!" Anna Leonidovna gasped.

As he dashed down the hall, her shrieks lowered to the fund-raising pitch. "He'll come around; you'll see. Such an emotional boy! Artistic soul... Let me offer you a tour in the meantime."

Volya's legs shook too badly to walk after a dozen steps. He slumped against the wall.

"Like Hell I'm coming around!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, lest Liam was deceived by Anna Leonidovna's lies.

Let there be no mistake. He had just flushed his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity down the drain... but he didn't betray Toshka. He was in control.

And those two things meant that his future was bright. A guy didn't need a fairy godmother disguised as a popstar to win in life. He just needed to know what was important and stay true to it. And he just did. He did everything right—except he shook, like he didn't dodge the bullet.

The bullet was still in flight, buzzing through the air, aiming for his heart.