by Aisha Tritle
“You look a pretty sight,” said a voice behind her. Ilya grabbed her waist and kissed the side of her head.
Sophia felt no repulsion, much to her dismay. The PDA was all for appearances’ sake, but she suspected Ilya was genuinely enjoying it. She put the cigarette in his mouth and slipped her hand into his.
“Was there much of a fuss?” she asked.
Ilya shook his head as they began walking down the street. “No, only the waiter noticed, and he was keeping it quiet. I don’t think he even realized he was dead.”
“That’s good.”
A club came up on the right side of the street, and Sophia felt Ilya tighten his grasp.
A mischievous smile appeared on his face. “What do you want to do now?”
“Go to the hotel and wait for the car like we’re supposed to,” replied Sophia, knowing that wasn’t what Ilya wanted to hear.
“Oh come on, we’ve still got three hours.”
“Yeah, that’s not much time, Ilya.”
He stood his ground. “It’s gonna take us fifteen minutes to walk to the hotel, tops. That’s more than enough time to have a couple hours of fun.”
“I don’t want to,” said Sophia, even though she did. Ilya was allowed an amount of freedom on his jobs that she’d only dreamt of.
The smile was still on his face. “Yes, you do.”
“We’ll also probably have to show ID to get in. Our fakes are for use in emergencies only. Plus, have you seen my dress? I can’t go into a club looking like this.”
Ilya took both her hands in his, and Sophia felt her guard begin to slip.
“They’re very relaxed here. It’ll be fine.”
Sophia feebly tried to pull her hands away. “No.”
His face was inches away from hers.
“You know you want to.”
Sophia did want to. The only times she’d ever been in a club had been for business. To go to a club and actually enjoy herself…the temptation was great.
There was also the chance that Ilya was testing her, though. Here he was—basically her chaperone—and trying to lure her into a club.
But the contents of his closet, his carefree attitude, the lack of fear towards Norbert…he seemed like he’d go out of his way to enjoy himself.
She relented. “Alright, fine,” she sighed.
Ilya pumped his fist victoriously. “Yes!”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “Calm down, calm down.”
Ilya grabbed her hand and led her towards the club. The bouncer let them in with little more than a smile. Sophia quickly found herself in a room full of strobe lights and scantily clad individuals.
The club’s blaring music grated on her ears, but Ilya seemed to revel in it. His enjoyment started to rub off on Sophia, and a wide smile crossed her face.
“Let’s get some drinks,” said Ilya. Sophia followed him as he elbowed his way through the crowd and to the bar.
Ilya pulled out his wallet. “What’s your poison?”
“Rum and Coke.”
Sophia scanned the club while Ilya ordered. The lack of lighting made it hard to see, but there was nothing that triggered her alarm. It was weird being in a place like this—with Ilya of all people.
She shot a glance in his direction; he was already looking at her. He was definitely attractive…Sophia quickly turned her head. He was her coworker, nothing more. Plus, he was chaperoning her. Letting her guard down with him was a bad idea, but she wasn’t going to get a chance like this for a while.
“Here you go.” Ilya slid the rum and Coke to her.
“Thanks.”
Sophia watched him down a vodka shot of his own and order another. He caught her looking at him and smirked.
“I’m Russian; we thrive on vodka.”
“I can see that,” said Sophia.
She picked up the glass in front of her and took a sip. The club was a trap, but not the way she’d thought.
Ilya caught her right before she hit the floor.
8
The room was pitch black.
Sophia still couldn’t feel her legs, but her arms and hands were able to move. She grasped the comforter she was swaddled in; it was too hot.
“Ilya,” she muttered, her nails digging into the mattress. Why had he drugged her? Whatever. It didn’t matter. She was going to kill him.
The door opened and let a ray of light in. Ilya’s shadowy figure entered and crossed the room.
Suddenly, it was too bright. Sophia quickly studied the room. It was homey — a mahogany wardrobe and bookshelf lined the far wall, the comforter and curtains were a welcoming shade of light blue. But Sophia still felt on edge, despite the comfortable interior.
“How are you feeling?” There was no shame in Ilya’s voice or on his face as he turned from the curtains he just drew. Sophia glared at him. She held his gaze for a minute; he didn’t shift. “Are you going to say something or are you just going to keep staring?”
Sophia didn’t reply.
Ilya sighed. “Look,” he said. “I will apologize. But I did what I had to.”
Sophia looked at him in disgust. What bullshit was he spieling? The stifling heat of the comforter forced her to speak. “Get this off me.”
Ilya began pulling the comforter off her. Now there was shame in his face. He looked as if Sophia had just reprimanded him. Her eyes narrowed. What was his deal?
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get cold.”
Sophia noticed the sweater he was wearing and wondered if ice water flowed through his veins. She also noticed something else…
“Where are my clothes?”
Ilya’s face flushed as he folded the comforter.
“Ilya,” said Sophia. “Where are my clothes?”
“Your dress had a rip.”
“I know it had a rip.”
Ilya feigned concern. “Aren’t the pajamas soft though?”
Sophia gritted her teeth. She wanted to ram her fist into his face with full force, but she still couldn’t feel the lower half of her body. Who knows what he’d done…
“You changed my clothes.”
“Yes…”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Why?”
Ilya opened his mouth to speak. Then, as if rethinking his words, he shut it.
Sophia arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. She repeated her question. “Why?”
Ilya sighed and threw the comforter down. “Some other things happened to your dress on the journey here,” he said. “It’d turned into scraps by the end…”
“Scraps? Seriously?”
Sophia was beginning to regain feeling in her legs, but she stayed still.
“You probably want an explanation,” said Ilya, as he cautiously sat on the edge of the bed.
“No, I don’t.”
Ilya stared at her in surprise, until a dawn of realization hit him. “It’s nice to see your sarcasm hasn’t left you.”
Sophia said nothing. He didn’t deserve a reply.
Ilya looked discouraged by her lack of response. “Are you hungry?”
That, indeed, she was. But her anger was stronger than her hunger, and within a second, Sophia had twisted her legs around his neck.
But Ilya’s reflexes were fast—he rocked them off the bed. In her still weakened state, Sophia’s hold on him loosened. It was only a little, but it was enough for him to slip out.
He was faster than anyone she’d ever fought with, instructors included. Before she realized what happened, he’d pressed the side of her face into the crocheted rug that lined the floor and pinned her arms behind her back.
“I know you’re mad,” said Ilya.
“Mad doesn’t even begin to describe what I am,” snapped Sophia.
“You need to hear what I’m going to say.”
“You roofied me.”
“I had to!”
“I don’t want to li
sten to anything you have to say, you perv.”
All Sophia got in return was silence. So, he wasn’t going to deny it.
Ilya settled on top of her. Sophia scoffed. From his firm grip, it was obvious he wasn’t preparing to let her go anytime soon.
“I’m going to tell you about Program Occidis.”
“I already know all about Program Occidis. I fricken grew up in it—unlike you,” seethed Sophia.
“Just listen.”
Sophia let out a reluctant growl. His hold on her was tight. She had no choice but to listen.
Ilya cleared his throat. “Program Occidis was originally started to help brilliant children reach their full potential. A boarding school or such, where children would gain access to an unprecedented high level of education. The idea was conceived by an international private think tank called The Society that was made up of some of the world’s most brilliant minds, Norbert included.”
From the way he was spitting out facts, it seemed as if he’d spent quite a lot of time preparing his monologue.
“Norbert, along with some unsavory individuals he was working with, managed to hijack the idea after they recruited. Due to Norbert’s false discouragement, Occidis seemed dead in the water to the rest of the think tank, and they gave up on it.”
“Soon after, Norbert was kicked out of The Society after the gory details of some of his dealings emerged. He’d ordered a hit on the CEO of a rival business after the company stole one of his ideas. Norbert denied everything. But a couple of members, including Robert Ingram, wanted to investigate more. They were put off after learning that Norbert was involved in dealings like this on a consistent basis. They didn’t want to risk Norbert coming after them or their families.”
A wave of confusion swept over Sophia. Robert Ingram?
The man’s words rang in her head: “You won’t be alone—someone will be in touch.” So, he’d actually been telling the truth—and had meant Ilya. Why Ilya? The blond boy was Norbert’s pet; it didn’t make sense.
Ilya’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Can I let you up?”
Sophia nodded. She was desperate to get out from under him.
“Are you going to come at me again?”
Sophia thought about it. She was still mad, but… “No.”
Ilya seemed to ponder the situation for almost a minute. Finally, he let her up. Sophia pulled her knees to her chest and leaned back against the wall.
Silence fell as they held each other’s gaze, again. Ilya sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry.” He looked at Sophia, obviously eager for any words she might say to relinquish him of any guilt. But she wasn’t going to satisfy him.
“Just get on with it,” she muttered.
Ilya shot her a pensive look before resuming. “A few years ago, a member named Toshiro Sanada was killed—by Simon. It was right when Simon’s issues had started to show up. He’d popped too many pills right before and ended up forgetting to disable a street camera in the alley where his handler picked him up.”
“The rest of The Society ended up seeing the footage, and they recognized Simon as the boy they’d recruited years before. They immediately suspected Norbert and some— namely Robert Ingram—began digging around. That’s when they realized Occidis wasn’t dead like they thought it was, and that’s, uh…when they found me.”
Here he stopped, brought his knees up to his chest as well, and looked at Sophia as if expecting her to say something.
Sophia rubbed her forehead. She was stunned. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“I was told to—by Robert.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Sophia snapped. She was still mad—and frustrated. The situation was too weird. She didn’t understand.
Ilya threw his hands up. “He said you were the other one I had to get out, okay? That’s all I know.”
Sophia pulled her hand across her face — there were too many unanswered questions—but there was one at the forefront of her mind.
“How did he know that you would be provided with an opportunity to get me out?”
“He said there was going to be a job in Spain, and that you and I were going to be sent on it together.”
“But how did he know?”
Ilya hesitated before replying. “Dr. Roth.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped.
“Dr. Roth is involved in all of this?”
Ilya nodded.
Memories flashed through Sophia’s head: Dr. Roth’s unwavering compliance to Norbert, his manipulation, his ‘therapy’ after Colin.
“It can’t be Dr. Roth.”
“Believe me, Sophia,” said Ilya. “It is.”
“I know Dr. Roth. He wouldn’t get involved in anything like this. He’s like you, he’s Norbert’s—“ Sophia stopped.
“Norbert’s pet?” asked Ilya.
Sophia crossed her arms. Maybe she didn’t know Dr. Roth as well as she thought. “Why are you even doing this?”
“Because Norbert must be stopped.”
“Really? You feel that way? I mean, it’s obvious you’re Norbert’s favorite.”
“I know,” Ilya said in a matter-of-fact manner.
Sophia scoffed. “Why do you even want to stop Norbert? You really expect me to believe that you’ve worked your way up over the past year just to turn and throw it all away completely?”
Ilya shot back quickly. “You don’t know me.”
“Yeah, but that’s your fault.”
Ilya didn’t reply.
Sophia’s eyes narrowed. It was time to ask him some questions he could actually answer. “What makes you think I want to stop Norbert? Why do you think I’m going to help you?”
Ilya’s lips opened slightly, and his blue eyes shifted back and forth, studying Sophia. “I don’t know,” he said half-heartedly. “I just did what Robert told me.”
He was hiding something. Sophia stifled an urge to shake it out of him. “You know he’s dead, right?”
She gathered by Ilya’s expression that he hadn’t known. He looked shaken. Sophia felt a twinge of guilt.
“Did you kill him?”
“No, he was my job. But I didn’t kill him.”
“You let him go?”
Sophia hesitated before replying. “Not exactly…someone else killed him before I did.”
Ilya quietly processed what she said. “I guess that explains why I haven’t heard from him yet.”
Was their only source of help dead? Sophia leaned back and hit her head against the wall, over and over. Ilya watched in uncomfortable silence.
Sophia sighed. The initial shock was wearing off. Now, she only had one concern. She stopped hitting her head and leaned forward. “You know what they’re going to do to my—“
Ilya’s reply was so fast it overlapped her words. “Your mother will be fine.”
Sophia’s hand curled into a fist, but she held back on punching him. “Oh, of course, my mother will be fine!” cried Sophia. “It’s not like I just went off-the-grid, and it’s not like Norbert and The Org wouldn’t hesitate to just turn—“
Ilya grabbed her wrist. “Sophia—“
She wrenched her arm free. “Nobody’s ever done this before! Did you even think about the repercussions?!”
“Of course I did!” Ilya was obviously offended. Sophia looked at him expectantly. “I drugged you in full view of a camera in the club, carried you out in view of three, and put you in the car in view of one,” said Ilya. “The Org does its research. Any consequences will fall on me.”
Sophia stared at him, feeling a mixture of relief and shock. He’d put more thought into it than she’d expected. “Aren’t you worried about your family?” she asked.
“My family will be fine.”
“But you just said—“
“My family will be fine, Sophia.” Some color had crept into Ilya’s cheeks. He looked angry.
Sophia lowered her eyebrows. Wh
y would he be angry? That didn’t make sense.
Ilya stood up. “Are you hungry?”
He seemed eager to talk about something else. So, he didn’t want to talk about his family. There was the wall. But Sophia welcomed the subject change; she was starving.
“I’ll make us something,” said Ilya sullenly as he exited the room.
Sophia shot a look out the doorway after him. The sight seemed innocent enough: a hall extending to a staircase with wooden banisters. She got up and crossed to the window on the left. She’d regained full use of her limbs, but she still felt weak.
The scenery outside the window was beautiful. The room was on the second floor, enabling her to get a good view of the environment outside. There were small hills of rolling green leading to a distant copse of trees. A gravel path was directly in front of the house, but where it led to, Sophia didn’t know. Tall trees obstructed any view of possible nearby buildings. Sophia bit her lip. Even if she did escape, where would she go?
The smell of bacon drew Sophia out of her room. The house was a typical Old-English cottage with stone walls and wood floors. The planks creaked beneath her feet as she went down the stairs.
Ilya was busily pulling out plates in the kitchen. He shot her a glance as she entered.
“The food won’t be ready for a few minutes,” he said, going back to the stove. “There’s a glass of water on the table; you should drink it.”
Sophia settled down at the table and downed the water. “Where are we?”
“Dorset,” replied Ilya, confirming her suspicions.
“How’d you manage to get us here?”
Ilya sighed. “Hijacked several cars, crossed over the channel in a small boat.”
Sophia scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”
But the glance Ilya shot at her made her realize he spoke in earnest. Sophia decided to press him for more information. “That must’ve been difficult…where’d you get the boat from?”
Ilya scooped an omelette and some bacon onto a plate.
“Robert left it for me. Gave me instructions on how to find it.”
“Thanks,” said Sophia, as he handed the plate to her. She had gulped down most of her food by the time Ilya sat down.
