by Nicole Fox
“You never did know when to shut up.”
Before the words are even out of my mouth, the handle of the gun cracks across the side of my face. It feels like my cheek has exploded. Blood fills my mouth, and I lean forward, hands on my knees to keep from falling over.
Boris grabs the back of my shirt and lifts me up. “It is my turn to talk, nephew. Listen.”
He releases my shirt, letting me sag forward, but I do my best to stand tall. I’ve seen Boris torture men before. He feeds on weakness. Any sign of it will be like blood in the water. Regardless of his plans, he won’t be able to keep himself from striking out again.
“Your father never appreciated me,” he says, shaking his head, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. “He was older than me, which meant he would become the boss. I knew that growing up. I accepted it, even though I was the one better suited for the position. But then it happened, and he relied on me for everything. I was his second, but I made all of the decisions, while he received all of the glory. It was maddening.”
I’d never considered the fact that my uncle and I shared the same position in the family. We were both second-born sons, more responsible and suited to leadership than our elder brothers. I’d grown up resenting my status in the family with no thought for how my uncle must feel.
But there is no pity in my heart for him.
“Then, he had sons,” Boris says, glaring at me. “Two boys who ensured I would never see the top of our Family, even if I killed him. So, after years of living in the shadows, I decided to take what was rightfully mine. I decided to organize my own family, one in which I would be at the top, and overthrow my brother once and for all.”
“He trusted you. We all did.”
Boris shrugs. “That is no fault of mine. If a life of crime has not taught you to trust no one than yourself, then it only shows you were not suited for it.”
“I should be able to trust family,” I say.
He waves his arms. “I have a family.”
I look around and realize men have stepped forward out of the trees. I couldn’t see them as I pulled up to the cabin, but now that the truth was out in the open, they’d revealed themselves.
Boris’s men walk in from the trees and gather behind him, forming a line between me and the cabin. Is Zoya inside? Can she see what was happening? Does she know I would come for her?
“You think you can trust them?” I ask. “You think you can trust them more than your own blood?”
“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” he says. “Did you know that is the true origin of that phrase? It means that the blood we shed in battle and the vows we make are more important than the families we are born into. It means,” he says, leaning forward, his acrid breath washing over my face, “that these men are more my family than you ever were.”
“Why do all of this?” I ask. “Why kidnap Zoya and bring me out to this cabin to surrender? Why not just murder us all in our beds? Clearly, we trusted you enough that it would have been an easy process for you. So, why the theatrics?”
His eyebrows flick up in excitement. “Good question, Alekasndr. You see, I knew killing you all would be the easiest way to get rid of you, but it wouldn’t get me what I wanted.”
“And what did you want?”
“Power,” he says quickly. “I wanted to be powerful and for people to see that. So, I had to fool you all. I had to show my men that you would throw yourself down on the sword for a whoring maid and that your father would agree to it because he didn’t know any better. I had to show everyone that I was capable of overthrowing the most powerful crime family in all of Russia by kidnapping one worthless slut. I needed people to see just how easily I could tear down your house of cards.”
I can see it now, of course. All of the small signs I missed. All of the meetings Boris attended without my knowledge. The way he attempted to convince me the rival family in St. Petersburg was truly nothing to worry about.
Boris succeeded in proving to not only his men, but to me, as well, that the Levushka family was foolish and weak. Because we were. I was.
But if I make it out of this situation alive, I never will be again.
“Have you killed Zoya?” I ask. “If this was all just a show to prove that you are smarter than all of us, is she still alive?”
“Your desires are so singular,” he groans. “At what point will you give up this puppy dog crush and fend for yourself?”
I don’t answer him, so he sighs and waves a hand over his head.
Immediately, the men behind him part, allowing me to see the front door of the cabin. Two of them break away and march inside.
“She is still alive,” he says.
Relief swells in my chest, threatening to lift me off of the ground. As long as Zoya is breathing, I have hope. I have a purpose.
“Don’t get too excited.” He leans closer, looking at me from beneath his bushy brows. “She won’t be alive for long. And I’m sorry to say, her last moments aren’t likely to be her best.”
The momentary relief turns to a brick in my chest, crashing into my abdomen. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find out why you and your brother were so infatuated with this woman,” he says with a vulgar thrust of his hips. “She must be one hell of a fuck for you to turn yourself in for her. I want to know what I’m missing.”
Rage turns my veins to ice and my vision is red. I step forward, and Boris lifts his gun and clicks his tongue. “Come on, Aleksandr. Calm down. You don’t want to miss the show.”
I don’t care about the gun or what it will do to me. I just want to wrap my hands around Boris’s neck. Even for a second. Even if I die in the process, it would be a good way to go. And I’ve nearly convinced myself to do it—anything to keep him from touching Zoya—when the men come out of the cabin with a person hanging like a sack of potatoes between them.
Except, that person isn’t Zoya.
It’s Cyrus.
Boris turns, excited to see his plan play out, but when he spots the weapon importer, his smile slips, and he curses under his breath.
“Where the fuck is she?”
The men shake their head, and I can’t help but smile.
She got away.
Chapter 19
Zoya
Unfortunately, Cyrus had been telling the truth about the armed guards blocking every possible exit away from the cabin. In the woods, I was hidden, but any attempt to follow a road away from the cabin would have resulted in almost immediate capture, and possible death. So, I stayed hidden.
My childhood days of climbing trees proved useful as I chose a particularly thick tree just behind the cabin as my perch. Climbing it was more difficult than I remember it being when I was a kid, but I manage to find a branch thick enough to bear my weight and high enough to avoid being spotted by the patrols.
And there, I wait.
Evening turns to full dark, and I have to fight sleep. As the adrenaline from my escape wears off, fatigue like I’ve never known before takes over. My eyelids are heavy, drooping even as I actively try to hold them open. Eventually, I lean forward on the branch and wrap my arms around it, thinking it is better to prepare for the inevitable moment when I fall asleep and hope I don’t fall to my death.
I fall asleep at some point, but I don’t think it is for very long. When I startle awake, it is still pitch black, and I feel like I’m on a boat. The entire world seems to be swaying from side to side. My vision swirls and it takes me a moment to realize that it is all in my head and the world isn’t actually moving underneath me.
My stomach produces a sick kind of whimper, and I realize the tiny bit of satisfaction from the bread and fruit Cyrus gave me has worn off. I’m hungry, and because of that, I’m incredibly nauseous.
Clinging to the branch, I lean over the side and throw up what little is left in my stomach. Over the next several hours, I drift into moments of restless sleep, only to awaken to the h
eaving of my stomach. There is nothing left to throw up, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
By the time the sun begins to creep into the sky, birds chirping in the branches around me, I’m exhausted and spent, drooping on the branch like a lifeless sloth. If Cyrus or whoever his boss is were to find me, I probably wouldn’t even fight them.
From my spot in the tree, I can see the bathroom window of the cabin, and I check occasionally to see if there is any movement inside. If I did my job correctly, then Cyrus is immobilized, unable to escape. It also means he will be unable to alert anyone to my escape.
I climb down from the tree only once shortly after dawn. I go to the bathroom at the base of the tree and then climb immediately back up. I am thirsty and hungry, and I know there is still food sitting on the kitchen counter, but I don’t want to risk going back into the cabin. If everything is going to go the way I think it will, Aleksandr will come for me. He will be here at some point today, and I will get out.
I just have to wait.
As the sun moves across the sky, I begin to wonder whether anyone is coming. Whether I’ll be sitting in the tree for yet another night. And I’m not sure I can handle that. The thought is so upsetting that I almost break. I almost climb down and sneak into the cabin for just a nibble of cheese. Like a starving street dog, I’m desperate for even the smallest of scraps.
But just before my willpower fully gives out, I hear rustling on the ground below me.
Not even twenty paces from the base of my tree, there is a man.
He is dressed entirely in black with an assault rifle hanging from his shoulder.
I don’t know if he works for the Levushka or the rival family. If he is there to search for me or to assist Aleksandr when he arrives—if he arrives. So, I stay quiet.
I cling to the branch and wait for the man to leave. Except, he doesn’t.
He holds his position for what feels like hours, staring out on the open field in front of the cabin, not moving or saying anything. Then, finally, he shifts his feet and crouches down, lifting his weapon.
I follow the scope of his gun and see a large boxy vehicle appear on the horizon, and my heart goes wild in my chest.
Rescue.
Aleksandr.
Freedom.
The car – a Hummer, I see, as it gets closer – pulls around the cabin and then drives around to the back side. The engine turns off, and my eyes are laser focused on the driver’s door, anxious to see who climbs out. If it is Aleksandr, I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain myself. I’m so tired and thirsty and desperate for rescue that I might just roll from the tree and pray they he’ll catch me.
Except, it isn’t Aleksandr.
The man climbing out of the Hummer is Boris.
Cyrus told me specifically that Aleksandr was coming for me. That he was the person they wanted to exchange me for, so why would Boris come? Is it part of a plan? Is he there as backup?
But if he was backup, why would he drive straight up to the cabin? If he was backup, he’d be hiding in the trees like the man with the assault rifle below me.
I look over and realize that man has lowered his weapon. He is standing tall again and walks out into the pathway, waving as Boris climbs down from the large vehicle.
“Any movement?” Boris asks.
The man shakes his head. “Nothing yet. I’ve been here for an hour. No one has seen anything.”
“Good, good,” Boris nods, his hands on his wideset hips. “Aleksandr should be here soon.”
Aleksandr is coming. Just like Cyrus says. He’ll be here soon. I just have to wait. Just a little bit longer. He’ll have a plan. I know it.
Only a few weeks ago, I would have climbed down at the sight of Boris. I would have run to him, begging for help. But now? After being fired and what he said to me in the kitchen, I’m not sure I even know who he is. So, I stay quiet and stay put, waiting for Aleksandr to arrive.
“Does he suspect anything?” the man asks.
Boris shakes his head. “Not a thing. My brother didn’t, either. He trusted me until the moment I pulled the trigger.”
My heart stalls in my chest. Once again, I feel like the earth is swaying beneath me.
Boris killed Vlad. He killed his own brother. Betrayed his own family.
I hear Cyrus again, complaining about the arrogance of Vlad and his sons. But never Boris. He never said a bad word about Vlad’s secondhand man. Why? Because he was working for Boris.
Because Boris is the boss of the rival family.
I feel for the gun I stole from Cyrus, stashed in the waistband of my jeans, but I know I can’t use it. As much as I want to, it would only bring more soldiers out of the trees. Even if I could manage to kill Boris, I would be overpowered or run out of bullets before I could escape. And still yet, that would do nothing to save Aleksandr when he arrives. No, I have to wait.
Boris instructs the man to hold his position and moves clockwise along the edge of the trees, probably going to talk to more of his men who are hidden there. More of his men who will certainly kill Aleksandr when he arrives.
The thought makes me feel nauseous and it takes every ounce of my remaining strength to keep down the acid in my stomach. I have to. Because I’m the only person here to help Aleksandr. I’m the only person here who is on his side.
If either of us want to get out of here alive, I have to keep my head.
I don’t see Boris again until a second car pulls into the clearing.
This time, even with the darkly-tinted windows, I recognize the black car as Aleksandr’s. And I recognize the crouching shape of Boris moving among the tall grasses towards the car.
When Aleksandr turns off the engine and steps out, his bright blonde hair reflecting the afternoon sunshine, I almost sob at the sight of him. His strong shoulders and square jaw. I can feel the memory of his hands gripping my waist, and I want nothing more than to feel that again. To feel the warmth of his chest against mine. But more than that, I want to scream at him to get back in the car. To flee. I would give away my own location in the process, but that doesn’t matter. I would gladly give my life for his.
Because I love him.
The realization hits me like a kick to the chest. I pinch my lips together to keep from gasping.
I love Aleksandr Levushka.
Despite our dire situation, my mouth quirks up in a small smile. Warmth fills my chest for a second, taking away the tremors in my arms and legs from clinging to the rough branch for so long. But just as quickly as it washes over me, it is gone.
Because I can’t save Aleksandr.
I could call out to him, but it won’t matter. I don’t know the exact number, but I know there are too many men hiding in the trees for him to have any hope of driving away unscathed. And me yelling at him might make Boris carry out his plan even faster than he intended, giving me no opportunity to step in and stop this madness. So, I bite my tongue and watch the events unfold.
Boris presses a gun to the back of Aleksandr’s head, and I can practically feel the cold metal at the base of my own skull. Chills run through me as Boris circles Aleksandr like a predator, closing in on his prey.
When Boris swings the butt of his gun down, and Aleksandr drops to his knees, I have to bite down on my palm to keep from sobbing. I want to jump from the tree and run to him, but with the man standing guard beneath me, I wouldn’t even make it out of the tree line.
Boris picks Aleksandr up, and I can tell he is hurt. His shoulders are slouched forward, and his head hangs at a slightly different angle than normal. But he is still standing, which is a victory in itself.
Then, Boris raises his arm over his head, and the man beneath my tree walks away, into the sunlight and towards the center of the clearing.
I look around the edges of the clearing and there are men stepping out from every direction. Twenty of them in total. Converging on where Boris is holding Aleksandr at gunpoint.
Whatever Boris’s plan is, he just set it in motio
n, and I know I don’t have much time.
Hoping all of the patrols are out in the clearing, I scale down my tree slowly with shaky limbs. By the time I reach the ground, my arms are shaking from the exertion, but I push onward, staying low to the ground.
I’m halfway to the cabin when I look out and see two of Boris’ men walking towards me. I drop to the ground, making myself as flat as possible, and pull the gun from my jeans. I can hear the thrum of my heartbeat in my ears, and I lay there and wait for their footsteps to approach me. For them to find me.
But they never come.
Then, I hear a commotion coming from inside the cabin.
I lift myself on to my elbows and realize the men were coming for me, but not because they saw me crawling through the grass. Because they thought I was still inside the cabin. And instead, they’ve just found Cyrus handcuffed and bound.
Boris’s plan is about to fall apart, and there is no telling what he will do next. I know I have to act quickly.
I look up and see Boris’ Hummer parked just behind the cabin, and I crawl towards it. The door is unlocked, so I open it as quietly as I can, but the moment the door is cracked, the car begins to beep.
I jump backwards in surprise before I understand what the beeping means.
The keys are still in the ignition.
“Thank God,” I whisper, adrenaline pumping into my veins, replacing my exhaustion with action. I clamber into the high front seat and wait. I’m waiting for a sign. Some signal that it is time to go.
Then, I get it.
The front door of the cabin slams shut, and I hear Boris’s voice boom across the clearing.
“Where the fuck is she?”
I smile and turn the ignition.
The men surrounding Boris and Aleksandr are still looking towards Cyrus and the two guards who found him when I come barreling around the corner of the cabin.
The engine of the Hummer roars beneath me. Even as I soar over bumps and dips in the landscape, the car remains steady, taking each shock and blow in stride.
