“I asked Lyonya—” My voice caught on his name; I swallowed hard. “I asked how someone like me who shoots people from a distance, trying never to be seen, is somehow stuck under bright lights in front of a packed crowd, giving a speech.” “And he said?” “‘Shut up, Mila, you’ll be brilliant.’” “He was right.” Kostia looked at me squarely. “You’ll always be brilliant.”
