by A. Zavarelli
I don’t expect anything from her this evening, so I am surprised when she tries again.
“She is not doing well, Alyoshka,” she tells me. “I am concerned for her.”
“You only have one job, Magda,” I answer. “Keep her alive and healthy.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I am busy.”
And so she leaves.
Leaves me to my misery. My cognac. And my plans.
Tomorrow, Arman will die at my hands.
And I will have my answers.
Why he sent her those photos. What they hoped to accomplish.
Franco taps on my desk and interrupts my thoughts. When I look up, Nikolai is beside him.
“What do you want?”
“Franco called me,” he says. “And I am here to accompany you to Bulgaria.”
“No.”
“If you don’t allow me to travel with you, then I will travel on my own. Either way, I am going.”
“This is not sanctioned by Viktor,” I tell him.
“I don’t care,” he replies. “Let me redeem myself, Lyoshka. You cannot do this alone. You know that.”
“I am deaf. But I have no problems ripping a man’s heart out. This I can assure you.”
“Yes,” he answers. “But first you have to get past the guards.”
“Alexei,” Franco cuts in. “Please. Be reasonable about this one thing. Going alone is a death sentence.”
For once in my life, I don’t care.
But I think of my unborn son upstairs. And it guts me to imagine him growing up without a father. It is the only reason I give my nod of approval.
“I don’t want Talia in this house while I’m away,” I tell Franco. “Not with Magda. You will need to take her to Viktor’s compound, where she can be watched.”
When he gives me a curious glance, I polish off the rest of the cognac in my glass.
“I want eyes on her every minute of the day. To ensure my son’s safety, of course.”
46
Talia
The sadness is back.
Choking me. Suffocating me.
I miss him. I can still feel his hands on my skin. His breath on my lips. His taste. It’s haunting me.
I need him. But he isn’t here.
“Miss Talia?”
I blink, and when I look up, Magda is hovering over me. A sad smile on her face.
“You need to come downstairs,” she tells me.
“Why?”
“Alexei has gone for a few days, and he would like you to stay somewhere where he knows you will be safe.”
Her words feel like a lie.
Because Alexei no longer cares.
He ruined me. Just as he promised he would.
I don’t have the will to argue anymore. I only have the energy to take each day as it comes. Each hour. And each second.
My hand is on my stomach, protective, as Magda guides me downstairs.
The house is empty. Lonely. And it no longer feels like my safe haven, but like the prison it now is.
“Why won’t he just let me go?” I ask Magda. “Let me go back to Boston.”
She seems surprised by my words, and then sad.
“You are married,” she answers. “Having a baby together. Things will get better. You must give it time.”
“Don’t say that.” I pause on the stairs. “Don’t lie to me, Magda. You can’t keep trying to give me hope when you know…”
My voice grows too emotional to speak, and Magda pulls me in for a hug. Tears spill down my cheeks, and she tries her best to comfort me.
“I am so sorry this has happened,” she tells me. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t. I have tried. And I cannot get through to him. Franco has tried. You have tried. He is so angry. So jaded. He has never been able to trust.”
“Magda,” Franco’s voice interrupts the moment. “I am sorry, but we must go now.”
“What about you?” I ask her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Franco will return and we will keep the house running as we always do. But you will be safe with Viktor. His family will take good care of you. It is the safest place for you when Alexei is out of the country.”
I nod, and she gives me one last hug before leading me outside.
There is a convoy of cars awaiting us. Three different SUVs.
Either for my protection, or to ensure I don’t escape.
I would be lying if I said that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind in the last two months. I want to run. I want to forget I ever knew him. Ever felt his touch.
Because I cannot bear a lifetime of this pain.
I just can’t.
Franco takes me by the arm and leads me to the SUV positioned in the middle. Once I am buckled in and secured, he climbs into the driver’s seat.
All three cars pull out of the driveway, leaving the lights of the house behind. I can’t help but look back at it with a foreboding sense of alarm.
It feels as though I will never return, and I don’t know why that scares me so much.
The drive is quiet. And since I know it is long, I settle in to the seat and keep myself occupied with the constant stream of thoughts running through my mind.
I want to know where Alexei is. What he’s doing. And who he’s with.
The last thought is the one that hurts the most.
I have no idea what he’s been doing all this time. I’d like to believe that he wouldn’t ever betray me in that way, but then again, I wanted to believe a lot of things that just simply weren’t true.
“Do you care for Alexei?” Franco’s voice breaks through the silence, surprising me.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
“He cares for you too,” Franco replies. “But you must understand, it is easier to believe the worst in people. Easier to believe than having blind faith.”
“I don’t even know what happened,” I tell him. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“He will have answers soon,” Franco says. “He will come back and…”
He slams on the brakes and his voice halts abruptly.
I look up just in time to see a flash of color exploding into the night sky ahead of us while the ground vibrates beneath of us. My ears are ringing, and time seems to slow down as the car comes to a halt.
I am vaguely aware that Franco is yelling at me, but it’s distorted. Only when he reaches over and shoves me from the car, do I understand him.
“Run.”
The two second delay feels like a lifetime as I stumble from the car in my confusion. I’m doing what he says, even as I glance back over my shoulder and look for him.
But he isn’t getting out of the car. He’s driving it in reverse, crashing into the SUV behind him. And then in one horrifying second, they are both gone.
Another flash of fiery orange, another vibration. A chunk of metal slices into my leg and the force of it knocks me to my knees.
I’m frozen in horror, looking back at the mass of metal skeletons lining the road. Nothing more than a fiery ball of flames.
“Franco?” I cry out. “Franco?”
But he isn’t there.
Because there’s nothing left of the car but pieces.
And the horrifying realization of what just happened washes over me as I gasp for breath. He kept driving. To save me. To keep the blasts away from me.
Fear and grief swell inside of me as I glance around the highway. I am alone. And I am bleeding from the leg. I’m in shock. But the only thing I can focus on is that someone tried to kill us. All of us.
My first instinct is to run. To move on autopilot.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know anything.
The only thing I know is that I have to keep going. And so I do.
I move into the brush along the side of the road, using it for cover. Only then do I slow to a walk. At some point, I hear sirens in the distance. But I don’t trust them. So I keep moving.
I walk for hours. Until the road meets the freeway and I’m a safe enough distance from the crash. Until I can’t walk anymore. Until I’m nearly doubled over in pain. And I have no other choice.
I move up into view and watch for passing cars.
A woman in a sedan pulls up beside me, frowning when she sees my pregnant belly and the blood on my leg.
“Honey, are you okay?”
“I need a ride,” I tell her.
She ushers me inside the car, and I don’t hesitate.
I’m exhausted, terrified, and heartbroken.
Franco.
His name brings tears to my eyes as the woman in the driver’s seat pulls back onto the road.
“Where are you headed?” she asks. “It looks like you need a doctor.”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m okay.”
There’s only one place I can think to go. The one place where my past and present will finally collide.
“Can you just take me to Slainte?” I direct her. “In Boston?”
47
Alexei
Arman’s guards let me in without protest when I tell them I’m here to discuss Talia.
Nikolai glances at me, the same question in his own eyes as we exit the car. I expected more of a fight. But the guards did not seem tense. Or even ready for a fight.
“It is what he wants,” I tell Nikolai. “Don’t be fooled by the accommodation.”
But even as we are greeted at the door by another guard, something feels off. This is Arman’s head of security. And even he does not seem particularly bothered by my presence.
Perhaps they believe me weak, now that they are aware of my secret. That I pose no threat at all to them. Or perhaps they believe that I would not be foolish enough to walk in here with only one other man and attempt anything.
But they are wrong, on both counts.
Arman is sitting at his dining table as he always is. Stuffing his face full of food and drink.
“Mr. Nikolaev.” He greets me as though we are old friends.
What he really sees when he looks at me is dollar signs. Money. The thing that makes the world go round. The thing that keeps his table bountiful and fresh slaves in his basement whenever his heart desires.
“Good evening, Arman,” I greet him in an equally friendly manner.
His eyes move to Nikolai, but I don’t bother to introduce them.
“I am here to discuss the return of your cherished slave,” I announce. “And also, my friend would like to see what other merchandise you have available.”
“Of course, of course.” He wipes his hands and stands up from the table. “I will show you the catalog of my current inventory.”
“I don’t mean arms,” I interrupt him. “I mean women.”
“Oh.” He blinks in surprise.
Arman won’t want to part with another slave. But it’s the cost of doing business. I know he will show us the one he values least. Most likely the one who took Talia’s place when we left.
And I also know, she will be kept in the basement. Away from his guards.
“Now that you mention it,” he says. “I have something I believe you will like.”
He leads the way downstairs, and he doesn’t ask his guard to follow. Again, I can feel Nikolai’s eyes on me. Something about this is not right.
Arman is not acting suspiciously at all. He trusts himself alone in my presence. And even I am beginning to question his behavior.
When he opens the door to the cell, I do not even glance at the slave. My hands come around his throat from behind, cutting off his air supply.
“Keep her quiet,” I tell Nikolai.
He moves towards the girl in the corner who looks so much like Talia when I first discovered her. I meet her terrified gaze as I choke Arman and realize that perhaps I am mistaken. This girl still feels. Talia did not. Perhaps that should have been my first sign.
Arman struggles in my arms, but it is futile. He is stout and old and not trained to protect himself. And the anger swelling inside of me is driving my control now.
I remove the knife from the sheath under my jacket and plunge it into his gut twice.
He crumples to the floor, gasping for breath as I kneel beside him. I dig the tip of the knife into his forehead until it hits bone.
“Tell me why you sent her those photos,” I demand. “Did she ask you for them?”
He stares up at me, and the shock and confusion on his face is genuine. It produces a sinking feeling inside of me.
But I know I am not wrong. I could not have been so wrong.
Talia has betrayed me, and I am determined to find out why. To prove it once and for all. I will pursue this belief to hell and back until I have my answers. My proof. When Arman does not answer me, I flay open his cheek.
He is bleeding from the gut, and it will not be long until he is dead.
“Time is running out,” I press.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he sputters. “Please…”
“Please?” I mock him. “Did Talia ever ask you please?”
His eyes are answer enough. And I don’t know why it matters to me. This is not for the purpose of avenging her. I have to remind myself of that when I look at him.
“I did not send her any pictures.”
I sigh and retrieve my phone from my pocket. There are a number of missed calls from Viktor, which I ignore as I pull up the evidence.
And then I show Arman, flipping through the grainy photos, watching him carefully.
Again, his eyes register shock and disbelief, and my stomach turns.
“You sent these to her.”
“Those must be from her training,” he says. “Before I purchased her.”
It sounds like a question. And I can see the question in his eyes. But I don’t want to see it. Because that means I was wrong.
I slice open his other cheek and then dig the knife into his throat.
“Answer me.”
“I swear to you,” he says. “It was not me. Dmitri. You need to speak with Dmitri.”
I grab him by the shirt and slam him down into the cement, my arms shaking from the force of my rage. “Dmitri is already dead.”
“I swear,” he gasps. “You have my word. He and his men did the training. And then they sold them. That is all I know.”
The gears are spinning in my brain. But none of this makes sense. Dmitri could not have sent her those photos. He was already dead. Arman can see I am doubting him. And he still believes I will be merciful. That I would allow him a chance to live.
He is wrong.
“He had a business relationship with some of the Vory,” Arman tells me in a last effort to save his skin. “I don’t know who. But that’s how he found Talia in the first place.”
“I need a name,” I tell him.
“I don’t have one,” he pleads.
“Then you are no longer of use to me.”
I stab him in the neck this time. Blood sputters from his mouth, and he bleeds out in a matter of seconds. And the only thing I can think of… is how much my Solynshko would have liked to see this.
48
Talia
Slainte is exactly the way I remember it. Only, it feels different somehow.
Like a lifetime ago.
Like a different person that walked these floors.
I keep my head down and aim straight for the back office, hoping to find Lachlan. But what I find is more. More than I am ready for. But something I can no longer avoid.
Mack is with him. And she is pregnant.
When she sees me, she nearly collapses from the shock.
I can only imagine what I must look like right now. After hours of walking in the brush. My arms and legs are scratched, and I am bleeding from a cut on my leg still.
I can’t find the words to tell them what happened yet. So I say the only thing I can.
“Get me out of here.”
They took me to a safe house. One of their
own, which Lachlan assured me that nobody else is aware of. It is small, but safe. And lonely, even sitting here with my oldest friend.
I am showered and dressed in fresh clothes, the cut on my leg stitched and cleaned.
And Mack is staring at me. Waiting for an explanation.
We are in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Things have never been so tense between us, and I can barely bring myself to look at her.
“Have you heard anything?” I ask Lachlan.
“I’ve spoken to Viktor,” he answers. “Alexei is fine. They are returning from Bulgaria today. He does not know anything yet, and I did not mention it.”
“And Magda?” I ask.
“She is fine also.”
I tap my fingers against the wood of the kitchen table as silence descends over us. I don’t know what else to do. What else to say.
“Viktor thinks you are dead,” Lachlan tells me. “He will tell Alexei soon.”
My throat feels like it’s closing in on me. There are tears in my eyes when I look at Lachlan.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I release a shaky sob. “I don’t know what I want. I need to think.”
Lachlan sighs and looks to Mack. Who is still staring at me like she doesn’t know me. And she’s right. I’m a completely different person than I was before. And I can see that even though she knows better than to say anything right now, the betrayal is there in her eyes.
She keeps glancing at my pregnant belly, silently judging me.
I hate this. I hate how stilted everything is between us. But I can’t deal with that right now. I can only focus on the seconds. The minutes. Think of what I need to do. Of what’s best for me and my baby. I don’t want to leave Alexei.
I love him. I love him so much.
But I can’t return to that house. Be a prisoner on the third floor. I can’t live like that. With his coldness. His distance. He made me feel just so that he could destroy me all over again. He promised to protect me. But there is no protecting me from himself. From the fears that rule his life and his beliefs. He doesn’t trust me.