“Okay,” she says. “First thing’s first, we can’t let them see you like this. You’ve got blood on your face.”
She takes her coat off my shoulders and wipes me down with it. The soft cashmere grazes over my skin and removes the blood that marks me.
“There,” she says. “There’s still some on your clothes but not enough to be immediately noticeable.”
I’m aware that I still feel very numb, but the feeling is slowly itching back into my extremities, filling me with a new sense of urgency.
“You’ll have to help me move him,” Svetlana says, glancing at eagle tattoo, who’s sprawling across the floor, face down.
I nod, steeling myself, as I reach down my grab his ankles while Svetlana takes his arms. Even with our combined strength, his dead weight almost has my knees buckling. But I draw strength from my son and I keep going.
We push him behind the sofa and Svetlana makes sure he can’t be seen from the front of the room. She takes the dagger that she used to kill Eagle Tattoo and wipes it off on his shirt.
Then she walks around the sofa and hands it to me, hilt pointed towards me.
“Make sure it’s concealed,” she says. “And if you get an opportunity to strike—”
“I’ll take it,” I say without hesitation.
For the first time since she’s walked into the room, she smiles. “All right then,” she says. “I’m going to leave before they find me in here with you.”
I grab her hands before she turns away from me.
“Thank you.”
And again, I think about the mantra that has followed me through the last few months of our lives.
I have survived on the kindness of strangers.
Svetlana nods slowly. “Do me a favor,” she says, “and survive.”
“Do me a favor,” I echo, “and protect my son.”
She nods solemnly. I turn and pick Phoenix up off the sofa. I hold him for a moment, but I don’t let myself linger.
I can’t prolong this. I don’t have the luxury of a goodbye right now.
Nor do I really want one.
This is not the end.
I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Be safe, little bird.”
Then I hand him over to Svetlana, who takes him gently, hooking one arm under his small body to secure him against her chest.
“Good luck, Esme,” she says.
Then she walks out the door with my child.
The moment the door closes behind her, I feel loneliness engulf me. I feel my fear more acutely than ever before.
But I don’t give in to the shivers clawing through my body.
I can’t falter.
I start pacing and I make it only three steps before I hear the sound of approaching footsteps… running footsteps.
I conceal the dagger in my jeans and stand to face the door just as it bursts open.
I’m hoping to see Artem, but I see two armed guards instead. Their faces are tinged with sweat and panic.
One guard gestures to me. “Come with us.”
They don’t have control of the situation, and I can see that immediately. Neither one even seems to notice that I’m apparently in this room alone and unguarded.
They just nudge me forward with their guns. These cruel men are worried. Terrified, really. Fearful of their lives.
And that makes me hopeful about mine.