by Bree Porter
“I believe you, Olezka.” I did not expand.
He casted his eyes over the men, cringing when he saw the growing exhaustion. “Konstantin...you are a Pakhan before you are a man.”
“Indeed I am. Which is why I make the decisions.” I nodded my head to him. “Do not worry yourself, Olezka. She is close by.”
He didn’t reply to that. It was clear he thought I was spouting bullshit. Instead, he asked, “Have you spoken to Artyom?”
“We will see what kind of state Elena is in when we find her.” I said. “From there, I’ll make my decision about Artyom.”
Olezka didn't ask me to expand. From the look in his eyes, he didn't think the decision I made about Artyom was going to be bloodless and kind.
On the fourth day, we came onto a small campsite.
The remnants of a fire sat in the middle of a tiny clearing, where leaves and rocks had been pushed away to soften the earth into the shape of a bed. A small bowl had been made out of a curved piece of bark and was resting by the site.
Olezka bent down to the campfire. He inspected it. “This was recently put out.”
“Alright!” Artyom commanded the men's attention. “She’s close by. I want three men in each direction. You are to pull up every log, every bush. Nothing in this forest goes unturned, no hiding place goes unchecked. If you find her, yell.”
Instantly, the men began to move, their excitement heightened by the thrill of finding their prey and getting to go home.
I didn’t move.
Something about the campsite had held my attention. Maybe it was the fact that it was the first proof I had that Elena was alive and thriving in this forest, living easily amongst the wilderness. Maybe it was the odd domesticity of the natural home, from the bowl made of bark to the bed made of the forest floor.
Or maybe it was simply because Elena had not left this little area.
I knew Elena. I knew Elena more than she would like to admit.
There wasn't a single part of that woman I had not seen and adored, not a single cunning thought I hadn't been completely and utterly besotted with. She had always amazed me, interested me, but she didn't surprise me. I knew her too well for that.
My eyes scanned over the crowd of trees. I remembered finding her high amongst branches, remembered thinking that she was so relaxed and comfortable amongst the flora that she must've been given to me by the fairies. Or was an ethereal mystical creature herself.
Look up, whispered a voice in my mind.
I tilted my head up and peering straight at me were the two most beautiful pair of green eyes I had ever seen in my life.
We took each other in for just a moment. Nearly three years of separation, months filled with pain and days fuelled by heartache. Our final words to each other seemed to hang in the air but were momentarily forgotten as we stared.
She was poised on a branch just above me, limbs stretched out like a jaguar to balance herself. Her hair was knotty, mud soaked her shirt and dirt covered her hands, but she was still the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on.
If I hadn’t been looking for her, I might’ve assumed she was part of the forest. Just another animal making a home or tree spreading its roots.
Elena cocked her head to the side, preternatural in her movements.
“Lyubimaya?” I asked.
Her chest rose in two fast breaths.
I saw what she was about to do before she did it. But I made no efforts to defend myself from her attack.
Elena’s hands wrapped themselves around my neck and her feet shoved against my chest. She let out an animalistic scream.
We crashed down into the ground together, her above me. Her knees pressed into my chest, her presence overwhelming my senses as we pressed up against each other. Almost as entwined as the flora that surrounded us.
Elena paused for a moment, confusion growing in her expression.
“My Elena,” I sighed, eyes running furiously over her as I absorbed every new mark and crease.
She had grown older in her expression, her features growing sharper and more arresting as she matured into them. Heavy bags laid beneath her eyes, the green iris’s now holding ghosts and fury in their depths.
No new words marked her skin, but I could see the very faint pen. I could only make out one word. Laundry.
I reached out and pushed back her hair. It felt like straw to the touch. “My Elena, oh my Elena. Lyubimaya. My soul, my heart.”
Elena stared.
I could see her mind moving a mile a minute behind her eyes, stumbling over calculations and solutions and problems.
So quiet, that I might’ve not have even heard it, she breathed, “Kon.”
My hand cupped her cheek, my fingers and palm fitting so perfectly around her face that we could’ve been two puzzle pieces clicking together to form the final picture.
“Lyubimaya, my Elena.”
She opened her mouth–
“Mama?”
Elena leaped away from me in a flash. She hiked herself back into the branches, cooing warm words. “I’m here, my wild boy. I’m here.” Her voice was exactly the same, but I had never heard it so soft before.
The men had gathered around. Everyone wanted a closer look at our prey, the creature who had left the family in shambles. The woman who had left me less of a man.
Roman stepped forward, jaw dropping and eyes widening as he saw what had called for Elena. “Holy shit...Artyom, are you seeing this?”
Elena leaped down from the tree, her arms filled with the secret she had kept hidden so well for nearly three years.
My son.
He had the chubby face of a healthy toddler, his features still soft and pliable before maturing with age. But even despite his youth, I could still see his mother and I in him. From his blond hair, to his green eyes, to the shape of his nose and the curve of his chin.
He looked like...he looked like Natalia as a toddler. Which meant he looked like a Tarkhanov, looked like me.
My son, my boy, my firstborn.
My heir.
Babushka came behind them, her fur matted from living in the forest for so long, but she remained mostly unchanged. Perhaps she was a little less fat now, but once we had access to the rats and Roksana’s treats again, I’m sure she would fatten once more.
All eyes remained on Elena and my son, despite the cat giving out a loud meow filled with fury.
Elena adjusted her son on her hip and lifted her chin up. No hellos, no tearful reunions. She just turned to Artyom and said, “There have been five men following us. I’m not sure where they are now but they can’t be far away.”
She might look half-wild but her voice remained sharp and clear. The wild instincts she had just showed seemed to evaporate. Seemed being the key word.
Elena may have suddenly tucked her savagery back inside herself but she was still a wild creature at heart. I could see the barbarity lurking beneath her skin–it was as familiar to me as my own–and no clear factual sentences could hide it from my eyes.
“They’ve been dealt with,” I said.
She didn’t look at me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence.
Anger twisted low in my gut. “You called for our help–here it is.”
Artyom flickered his dark eyes to me. I knew he wanted to discuss our options, let Elena have the freedom to choose. But he had done too much already and I ignored his loaded stare. I didn’t intervene between him and Roksana; I expected the same courtesy.
Or else.
“You are still being hunted. Titus won’t stop until she has what she wants. No matter how long it takes.” I slid my hands into my pockets, the picture of ease. “You have two options, Elena."
Everybody tensed as I prepared my ultimatum.
"Either you come with us back to the estate or you stay here and we take the child back to the estate.”
All the men looked down at their feet and a few
swore under their breaths.
Elena had a less appetizing reaction. “Is that a fucking threat, Konstantin?”
She turned to me, lips peeled back to show her teeth.
Smugness covered my anger as I forced her to address me. The silent treatment act was only going to last so long. “Careful of language in front of the child.”
For a second, I thought she might lunge at me again. But instead, she drew back her shoulders, hoisted the child up and said curtly, “You have houses and safe homes everywhere, Konstantin. We’re staying in one of those.”
I knew that, knew I could've easily tucked her away in the countryside and never laid eyes on her again. I could save myself the pain, the torment, the weakness. But that boy? That child that looked just like my niece had once done? That child who had a pair of beautiful mossy-green eyes?
This family had been separated for long enough. There would be no safe houses, no hiding. We would reunite–even if Elena did everything in her power to make sure we didn't.
“None are as safe as the estate.” Was my answer.
I wondered if she could see the plans for us forming in my mind.
From the darkness that flashed in her eyes, she could. It almost pained me to admit it, but Elena knew me just as well as I knew her. We were two complex individuals that had only ever unraveled for each other...
Until she had left, until she had told me she didn't love me. I don't love you, Konstantin.
“That’s not completely true, is it?” She sniped.
I smiled at her double-meaning even if being reminded of the attack from Titus on the estate made me want to roar.
A choking sound indicated Roman was trying to hold back a laugh and failing miserably. “Oh, Elena, still a bitch, huh?”
“I’m also a mother now,” she returned but her tone didn’t have the same heat to it when she spoke to Roman. I could spot the flicker of affection in her face as she turned to him. “Are you still a dumbass?”
Roman grinned roughly. “Better than a family deserter.”
“We’ll see.” Was her easy reply.
“As sweet as this little reunion is,” I made my voice sound a lot smoother than how I was feeling. Some part of me, the dark and unholy part, wanted to rip Roman’s throat out, punishment for having Elena love him. “It is time to go.”
Elena set her jaw.
A few of the men reached for their weapons, like they were preparing to defend me...or preparing to defend Elena and the child.
“So, what will it be, Elena...you both come with us or I take my son back home without his mother?”
7
Elena Falcone
The sudden reintroduction into society cleared my thoughts.
The savagery inside of me dimmed in the face of adult conversations and I felt more human than beast for the first time in weeks. Though I could still feel my animalistic instincts growling low in my belly, they quietened for just long enough that I could process a single thought: There is something wrong with him.
I hadn’t known it was him at first. I hadn’t picked up his features, too far gone in my wildness to know anything but how to survive. But when I had heard his voice, his accent rolling over my name so lovingly and with such yearning, my mind had finally cleared and my humanity had returned.
That was when I had realised, deep in my soul, that this man may be wearing the face of my love but there was something inside him that had not been there before.
Something was wrong, something was not right. This was not the man who I fell deeply in love with.
Physically, he looked the same. His dangerously beautiful appearance remained unchanged, his blond hair and brown eyes had not altered. No stubble, no new scars. No large font that read Elena Falcone is a bitch and here’s a list of reasons why.
But beneath his exterior...
There was something behind his eyes. It moved and danced away from the light, twisting inside of him like a snake curling around its prey. The quirk of his lips, the tone of his voice all indicated that something, somewhere deep inside of him, was misplaced. A clutch had slipped, a gear was jammed.
Though Konstantin could’ve had a tattoo that said something horrible about me and I still would’ve looked at him and remembered: I love this man. I have never loved anyone so much. My equal, my opponent. I love him, I love him, I love him–
You broke his heart, Elena, I silently cursed myself as we walked through the forest. You are the villain, the bad guy. You broke apart a family and took them from your son. You don’t get to ride into the sunset with the handsome prince.
I eyed the back of Konstantin’s head. Handsome prince...I almost laughed out loud.
His men flocked the back of the large group, with those higher in rank walking closer to their Pakhan. We took barely made paths through the forest, pushing past wild trees and underbrush. Silence was preferred, with only Nikolai’s sweet voice to be heard.
It went against every rational bone in my body but some tiny part of me was relieved we were going to the estate. Not just because it was safe, but because I yearned to see Danika and Roksana, Rifat, Feodor and the horses, just once more.
You left for a reason, I reminded myself.
I flickered my eyes to Dmitri. He was staring straight ahead but I could see his electric blue eyes scanning over the men and surroundings.
When he caught my eyes, he quickened his pace slightly until he was side by side with me. Neither of us said anything.
His last words to me rang through my mind at that moment. Remember why you learnt Russian, he had said.
I did remember–that’s why I had left.
I had left to keep them safe, to keep the people I cared for from harm. Tatiana had so easily gotten into the estate and threatened them. It hadn’t been hard for her at all to capture Roksana, Danika and I–and it hadn’t been hard for her to kill those women.
I still chanted their names at night. Letizia Zetticci, Eithne McDermott, Mallory Nicollier, Flowerpot...and little Annabella Benéitez.
They reminded me why every time I grabbed the keys to return to Konstantin and my family why I shouldn’t do that.
Prendi una decisione, Elena. O loro o tu?
Make your decision, Elena. Them or you?
How many times had I stood by the front door, keys in hand, and chanted Tatiana’s final words to myself? Too many to count.
I looked down at Nikolai. He insisted on walking by himself like a big boy. Every now and then, Roman would look back at him and wink, or make a face, which would send my son into a tirade of giggles. It sounded as sweet as the chick’s chirping in their nests.
Them or you?
Them or my son?
The thing was I knew who would choose...I knew that my heart would be shattered no matter what.
I needed to come up with a plan. A good one, one that would end with my son and my family surviving.
My scheming was a good distraction from staring at the back of Konstantin’s head and judging how much Nikolai’s neck looked like his. (Almost identical). When I found that to be failing, I distracted myself from Konstantin by staring at everyone else.
Artyom hadn’t changed a bit, except he looked a bit tireder. His crow-black hair was still long and tied back, and his face was still constantly set in a Sick of You All expression. Him and Konstantin were tense with each other which cemented my theory that Artyom hadn’t told anyone he knew where I was.
I appreciated that.
Roman had probably changed the most. He looked older, not so much more mature, but more hardened by life. He was probably the happiest to see me–though Olezka did offer me a kiss on the cheek and a kind, “It’s good to see you.”
For the assassin of the family, Olezka had always been the kindest and most gentle out of the lot. Perhaps it was because he created so much darkness and destruction for a living that when he had the chance to be human, he took it gratefully.
Babushka, however, was a creature of evil, and had taken up post beside Konstantin. Whenever she looked behind her, I mouthed traitor.
It took a few good hours for us to make our way to the vehicles were stationed. Nikolai grew tired, so I picked him up and carried him most of the way. My arms and back ached but I didn’t dare ask anyone else to touch him. Nikolai still hadn’t been properly introduced to his father.
We all piled into the vehicles. I drew the luck of the draw by managing to get myself locked into a car with Dmitri, Roman, Olezka, Artyom and Konstantin.
All my boys, I mocked to myself. Some love me, some dislike me and one of them hates me. Can you guess which was which?
“Mama.” Nikolai rubbed his eyes. “I’m hungry. Where’s Baba?”
“I’ll feed you soon,” I promised. “And Baba is sitting on Dmitri’s lap. Can you see?”
Dmitri held Babushka up to show Niko.
Niko stretched his arms out but I caught his wrists. “Can I hold?”
“No, baby. Dmitri is having some time with Baba. He hasn’t seen her in ages.”
“Pet?” Niko leaned forward and stroked her fur. He looked over his shoulder at me, grinning wickedly. He knew he was doing something I didn’t want him to do.
I rose my eyebrows, pressing my lips together.
Suddenly, Nikolai wasn’t so brave. He pulled away from Babushka and snuggled back into my chest, head tucked beneath mine. There was nowhere he could sit other than my lap, so I put the seatbelt over us both and held him tight.
I was between Dmitri and Artyom in the back seat, with Olezka and Konstantin at the front. Roman sat in the very back, gun in lap–though he did make an effort to keep it out of Nikolai’s point of view.
“What is his name?” Roman asked suddenly.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t said it out loud in front of them, preferring to call him by affectionate nicknames.
I looked to Artyom but his face remained stoic. He hadn’t said anything. What did they know and not know?
How much did they know?
His eyes met mine, an understanding passing between us.
Artyom would do whatever it took to protect and care for his family, even if it caused tension and Konstantin to hate him. I knew he would prefer them be alive with air in their lungs and hate him rather than buried six feet under and love him.