Chapter 13
The van comes to a sudden stop. It’s too dark to get my bearings. I have no choice but to wait for the next phase of this ordeal in darkness.
My only coherent thought is to pull my pants up and refasten the zipper before the hood of the trunk raises and night air floods in. Blinking back moonlight, I can only make out a man’s general shape looming above me, rigid and shrouded in shadow. Mischa.
He says nothing as I huddle beneath his scrutiny. Instead, he turns away, his footsteps heavy and grated over an uneven surface. Gravel, I see once I lift my head. It paves a makeshift driveway stretching toward a weathered, two-story farmhouse a few yards away. It isn’t until I climb out of the van and approach the structure that I realize it’s the safe house—and that Mischa never covered my eyes this time. Why? A part of me hesitantly ventures an answer.
Because he knows I won’t be leaving. Alive, anyway.
Heavy with dread, I linger at the mouth of the doorway as my vision adjusts to the darkness. He’s paces ahead of me, and when he disappears down the hallway, I choose to follow him, finding my way through feel. Disorientation isn’t the only reason I cling to the wall for balance. I’m limping. Even Robert never left me so sore after one of his sessions. My legs shake, incapable of supporting my weight.
Breathe, Ellen.
Hushed voices drift from a nearby doorway, giving me some context as to where to go.
“I’m surprised he didn’t demand that fucker’s head on a platter,” a man says. Vanya? “Either way, it was smart to appease him. You can’t risk any more enemies. Not while we’re out in the open like this.”
“Even Nicolai wouldn’t dare challenge me,” a gruffer voice replies. “He knows who he owes his empire to.”
All conversation ceases the moment I reach the doorway. As it turns out, Vanya was the owner of the first voice. I spot him crouched in a corner, cleaning the parts of his gun. One look at me and the color drains from his face while round pieces of metal clatter from his lap to the floor.
“What the hell?”
I should move. I try to, but my legs don’t bend correctly. Before I hit the ground, someone grabs me, wrapping their arm around my waist. Vanya? No…
He’s in front of me, gazing on with horror as I’m lowered to the ground. “Mischa…Mal’chik,what have you done?” The fear in his voice wasn’t there before, not even when he warned me of what his leader was capable of.He won’t fuck you, but he will hit you.
“I’m done lurking in the country like a fucking animal,” Mischa says, continuing the thread of whatever conversation I interrupted. He sounds distant, as if he’s walking away, leaving me on the floor. “Tomorrow, we come out of hiding. We’re going home.”
A door slams shut, rattling the floorboards, and I know without even having to look that he’s gone. I can breathe again, noisily and labored.
“Fuck.” Vanya crouches beside me, swiping my hair from my wounded cheek. Agony alights his gaze: a pain I’ve never witnessed on anyone before—I’ve only ever felt it. That horrible feeling that someone you love might have done the unthinkable. Betrayal. “Did he…did he hurt you?” he asks softly.
He’s not referring to physically. Somehow, he’s been able to rationalize that difference to himself. His Mischa may hit and abuse others, but violate them? That would cross a line even he can’t fathom.
Slowly, I shake my head. It’s the truth. Mischa hasn’t hurt me. He’s decimated me.
And you wanted him to…
Vanya clenches his jaw, biting back a question he can’t voice. Instead, he rolls me onto my side and covers me with a jacket shrugged from his shoulders. “I’ll bring you food,” he tells me as I give in to exhaustion. “Get some sleep…”
* * *
For the second time in a row, I awake on my own. A hazy, dreamlike daze coats everything in a fog. As I blink up at a peeling ceiling, I almost don’t remember. Where I am. What I’ve done.
I almost forget…
But then an undeniably masculine scent slams into me, ripping away the ignorance. I feel him, even before I see him towering above me.
“Get up.”
I comply, maneuvering my sore limbs just enough to rise onto my knees. Vanya’s jacket pools on the floor beside me, but I know better than to reach for it, even as my teeth chatter. I’m shocked to find a bottle of water and a sandwich on the floor as well, a few feet away. He kept his promise.
“Eat.” Mischa jerks his chin toward the food.
I don’t wait for a more explicit invitation. I cram the sandwich into my mouth and barely take a sip of water when he turns for the door.
“Come.”