by Monica James
“I knew Frank was playing squash, so I went to his house to gather my things. Santo was never home at that time of the evening,” she recounts, wringing her hands in front of her. “He caught me leaving. He begged me not to leave, said that he loved me. When he realized nothing he could say would change my mind, he attacked me.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, but she stubbornly wipes them away with the back of her hand.
“He pinned me to the floor, forcing himself onto me. I stopped fighting, and when he let his guard down, I broke a vase over his head. I only just got away, but not before he warned me. He said he would find me wherever I was and make me pay for dishonoring him and his family. I was scared because I know the things that family is capable of. I left in a panic. I didn’t have enough money to fly back home. I knew I had to stay in Russia until I could come up with a plan.
“But I knew I had to stay hidden. If not, I’d be killed. I was terrified for my life.”
And she’s right. There was no way Santo would let her live.
“I was on my way to a motel. It was raining and dark; the visibility on the road was bad. I turned the corner, and that’s when I saw Sister Arabella’s mangled car. She had veered off the steep road, her flashing blinkers flickering in time with my frantic heart. I could see someone was in the car, so I stopped to help.”
She closes her eyes, as if the memory is too painful to face.
“But when I opened the door, she was already dead. There was b-blood everywhere. I know it was wrong, but when I saw her crucifix hanging from her broken neck, and when I looked over her ID and saw how similar our names were, I wondered if maybe this was a sign. Her death didn’t have to be in vain. She could help me.
“So I dragged her from her car, undressed her and replaced her clothes with mine, and then I…buried her. I used a tire iron to dig a shallow grave in my underwear because I couldn’t get her habit any more dirty than it already was,” she says robotically. “I said a prayer over her grave, thanking her for what she’d done for me.
“I took her belongings from her car, and then I put it into drive and sent it careening off the cliff’s edge. I left my car, which was registered to Frank, knowing they would be looking for me. Sister Arabella was barely recognizable. Her face was all…smashed in,” she reveals, placing a hand over her mouth.
“Which is why I dressed her in my clothes. I hoped if Santo’s men found her, they’d think some Good Samaritan who didn’t want any trouble found her and laid her to rest. By leaving my car and ID, my hope was that they’d think it was me in that grave and not Sister Arabella.”
Sloppy work but she isn’t accustomed to concealing a body. I suppose she did the best she could, considering the circumstances.
“She was already dead,” she says, as if justifying what she did. “I needed a new identity, and I was offered it.
“I dressed in her spare habit, took her belongings, and walked to the orphanage. The sisters and Mother Superior were expecting me. Sister Arabella,” she corrects. “And I knew I’d be safe.
“I washed the blood from her habit late at night, and just like that, Sister Arabella was gone. I’m not proud of what I did, but I did what I had to in order to survive.”
She turns to face me now that her tale is complete, waiting for me to respond.
“Who was the bad man?” I question.
When she arches a brow, I clarify, “You said you fell in love with a bad man.”
She appears wounded I need to ask because it reveals I doubt her story. “Frank, of course. At first, I didn’t know what he did, but when I eventually found out, it was too late.”
“So, you loved him?”
“Yes, very much,” she replies sadly, and a sharp pain stabs at my heart. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough. I could never be with someone who is unfaithful. I’ve seen firsthand what it can do to a family.”
She speaks of her estranged family.
“You now know my dirty secrets, so now I want to know, why did you go see Santo?”
Walking slowly toward her, I come to a stop just before the doorway and brace my hands on either side of the frame. “Because Santo knows you’re here.”
She wavers, gripping the sink to stop from falling.
“And he’s hired me to bring you back to him.”
An eerie silence settles between us.
“What do you get for your troubles?” she whispers, unable to mask her sadness.
“My half-brother, my kingdom, foes becoming friends, and reclaiming my place back on top,” I reply blankly.
“Oh, my god,” she cries softly, now understanding what’s at stake. “So by handing me over to Santo, you get your life back?”
Gripping the wood of the doorjamb, I nod. “Yes.”
Her head bobbles numbly, biting her lip, eyes distant. “Oh.”
There is no easy way to deliver such news, and I understand what hearing the truth does to her, but she needs to know this is happening because she lied. If she had told me the truth, we could have done something earlier, but now, I don’t know what to do.
I give her to Santo; I get my life back. If I don’t, no matter how civil Santo is behaving, he’ll ensure we both pay with our lives. He knows she’s here, so it’s only a matter of time.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, holding back her tears.
Reaching into my back pocket, I present the folder. I don’t need to explain what it is. “I—”
However, before I have a chance to deliver her fate, the room is eclipsed in total darkness. Not metaphorically but literally. That darkness is suddenly followed by a gut-curdling scream that turns my blood cold.
Frantically reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my phone, and the moment I turn on the flashlight, a slash of silver slices through the air.
Sidestepping, I fend off Ella and the pair of scissors she’s wielding like a sword. When she attempts to stab me in the stomach, I grip her forearm—hard. Her pained screams sound loudly, and when she drops the scissors to the floor, I yank her forward, pressing us chest to chest.
“Try that again, and I will whip you until your ass is raw!”
She spits in my face in response.
Furious, I cup her throat and walk her backward, slamming her against the wall. “You don’t leave my side, we clear?”
I don’t have time for this because when the generator kicks in and the emergency lights cover everything in a ghostly green glow, I know something is very wrong.
She gasps for air as my grip is tight but nods shakily.
Letting her go, I roughly clutch her wrist and drag her out the door. The hallway is shrouded in partial darkness as the lights are still not back on. I storm down the hallway with Ella in tow, but when I turn the corner and see a trail of black up ahead, my survival mode kicks in.
Running forward, I follow the trail of blood, which looks black thanks to the green lighting, but this is without a doubt blood because its source lies sprawled out ahead.
“Oh, my god,” Ella cries when she sees the twisted body a few feet away.
It’s a sister with her habit sprawled around her, but she is prone, so I can’t see her face. No matter that I don’t trust Ella, I let her go, not wanting her to see the fallen sister. I have a suspicion Santo is behind this attack. If that’s the case, Ella isn’t safe.
Her soft footsteps behind me reveal she is prepared for anything, but as I drop to a crouch and carefully pull back the head scarf, nothing can prepare either of us for what we’re about to see because I was wrong…so fucking wrong.
“Hello, Brother.”
A sharp pain in my side accompanies those words because the fallen isn’t a sister—it’s Serg.
Jumping up, I press my palm over my bleeding flank, thanks to the stab wound inflicted by my kin. Serg doesn’t give me time to process that he’s really here before he springs up and launches forward, intent on adding another stab wound to my torso.
But his eagerness and inexperie
nce, a reflection of his leadership, has me disarming him quickly when I kick the long blade from his hand. He wavers, which is all I need to leap forward and break his nose. The sound, as well as the blood coating my hand, awakens the bloodlust, and I dive on top of him, dropping us both to the floor.
He tries to fight me, but there is no way he’s leaving here alive. I cradle his head in my palms and slam the back of his skull against the hard flooring. A pained oomph leaves him, music to my ears, so I do it again and again.
The habit does nothing to protect him as I continue my assault. I won’t stop until he’s dead. I don’t need an explanation for how he got here; I just need him to stop breathing. That is, until I hear a voice that changes the course of everything forever.
The lights flicker back on, my eyes taking a second to adjust to the stimuli around me. In my hands, I hold my half-brother’s bleeding head, but feet away where Irina stands is where my hands should be.
“Ski?” she asks, eyes wide when she sees me straddling someone in a habit, covered in blood.
Serg gurgles, a blood bubble popping from his busted lips. A smirk suddenly cracks at his mouth when he peers backward.
“It’s okay,” I assure her in Russian. But nothing will be okay because Ella’s petrified screams reveal whose habit Serg stole. Whose blood paints the hallway’s floor.
Peering ahead, I see a broken, bloody body, twisted at an unnatural angle, and a pair of oversized glasses is strewn feet away. Her white undergarments are now coated in thick red blood.
I return my focus back to Irina. I left her in the care of Sister Yali, but now that Sister Yali is dead, Irina is in the care of another.
Renata.
With Sister Yali cradled in her arms, Ella’s confused glances bounce between Renata and me, not understanding what’s going on.
“Why?” I ask Renata.
She clutches Irina’s hand, and with the other, she holds a gun. Her white dress slathered in blood. “Because you should know by now that one will do anything for love. Get off him.”
She waves the gun, gesturing for me to move.
Every muscle in my body is fighting against me, but I slowly do as she demands.
“What now, малышка?” I mock, hands raised in surrender.
Serg groans before using an elbow to prop him into a sitting position. He shuffles and rests his back against the wall. He looks dreadful, but not dreadful enough because he’s still breathing.
“Oh, Brother,” he taunts, removing the head scarf with bloody fingers. “She fooled you, and fooled you good.”
“Stop referring to me as your brother,” I coolly state. I need to approach this with a level head because I need to outsmart this дурак. “We may share the same whore of a mother, but our fathers are miles apart. Although, I suppose your father was quite close when I slit his throat.”
Serg roars, thumping his fist on the floor.
“All this for a man you don’t even remember. Trust me, I knew him, and he’s not worth the vendetta.”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Serg screams, bloodied spittle coating his chin. He looks like the crybaby he is.
“So what do you want?”
“I want you to pay for what you did to my father!” he bellows.
“Well, I’m right here”—I spread my arms out wide—“let Irina and Ella go, and you can have me.”
“No!” Ella cries, drawing attention to herself.
Serg realizes she’s here, and a grin spreads across his cheeks. “Ah, so this is the whore who was standing in the way?”
I’m about to drop to one knee and punch those vile words from his mouth when I realize what he just said.
“Yes, I’ve known where you’ve been this entire time,” he confirms, throwing my stupidity at me.
“How?” I know Renata is the snitch, but how has he tracked her? How has she been able to keep in contact with him?
When Renata lifts her locket, I curse myself for not killing her when I had the chance. “He has always had eyes on me. It’s amazing how small they make GPS devices.”
So if Serg always knew where she was, why didn’t he strike sooner?
“Why did you save me from being killed then?” I ask her, referring to those pups who killed an innocent woman.
“Because I sent those morons to scare you, not kill you, but that’s what happens when you send in amateurs.” Serg wheezes when he tries to move. “They watched your house, and when they saw you leave, they gave Ren a phone and instructed her of the plan.
“I told them I’d offer them a job if they did what I wanted. And they did that when they killed that old wench, forcing you to flee and come here. You’re always thinking of others. It’s your downfall.”
Serg never intended for those two boys to live. They merely served a purpose, and when their job was done, Renata was ordered to take out the trash.
I keep my anger at bay. His plan worked because I suddenly realize what he’s always been after.
The orphanage.
“Ren has been gathering all the information on this place. It’s worth quite a bit of money,” Serg says, whistling. “I knew you were closing in on me, so I had to think outside the box. Mother mentioned you’ve always had a soft spot for this place.”
I grit my teeth at the mention of that woman.
“And anything that you hold dear, I will destroy. But thanks to Ren sending me photos of the finances of this place, I realized the orphanage could be very beneficial for me.”
So Ella wasn’t the one who stole the paperwork. It was Renata all along.
“You’re off your A game because you were too smitten by the lovely sister over here.”
Good, they don’t know that Ella isn’t who she says she is, which means she’s safe—for now.
“I knew her resemblance to the lovely Willow would have you lowering your guard, and it worked like a charm.”
Ella casts her eyes downward. She has no idea what happened between Renata and me, but it’s safe to assume she’s thinking the worst.
“But it seems you’re a hard nut to crack,” Serg says, disappointed. “It would have been far more entertaining if you’d fallen for her charms, only for her to break your heart like your sweet дорогая did.”
I will not take the bait.
“How did you get in here?”
Renata smiles. “Did you really think I wanted to get that old wench a birthday present? I asked for the keys to the SUV because I know you have a master key to the place, the key which I got cut and hid inside the Medovik. I watched you punch in the code, and I memorized it.
“There was never a meeting, and you fell so easily for it. I was supposed to find the perfect opportunity to strike, and when I heard about this party, I just knew our stage was set.
“So I opened all the doors with the key I got cut, used the codes, and waited for my prince to come rescue me.” She looks at Serg with stars in her eyes while I hold down my vomit.
“Your faith in me is embarrassing,” she concludes with a giggle. “You thought you were breaking me, making me submit, but I was breaking you. I played you at your own game. I merely entertained you so you’d think you won.
“I was to collect everything I could about the orphanage and find out how loyal Mother Superior was to you. And I have discovered her loyalty is strong.”
So this is what they wanted all along.
Find out everything they could about the orphanage, about Mother Superior, and if she didn’t comply with whatever their demands were, then they’d dispose of her.
I did this. I brought Renata here. I’ve allowed the lambs to be slaughtered.
“This is all very interesting, but I still have no idea what you want.” I remain calm, attempting to devise a plan.
Serg smirks. And why shouldn’t he? He outsmarted me, or rather, Renata did. “I want Mother Superior to sign the deed over to me. This place is worth a lot of money.”
“No one will buy this place, you fo
ol!” I exclaim, but I have completely misunderstood what he means.
“Oh, Aleksei, there you go, once again leading with your heart. The children, their innocent, young faces are what’s worth a lot of money. I had a quick look around. They are sweetened peaches, ripe for the picking.”
And just like that, time stands still.
“I’m sure you remember your dear yet sick and twisted friend, Oscar. Well, there are hundreds of men and women just like him, willing to pay top dollar for an hour or two to quench their…select tastes. And if they want to purchase one, then I suppose I’m doing the children a favor by finding their forever home.”
I stare at him, simply horrified.
What he intends to do is unspeakable. He intends to turn this house of holiness into a house of hell because he’s right; there are men and women out there—sick, vile animals who would exploit the children to cater to their perverted desires.
I should know. I’ve seen it firsthand within The Circle. There are many sick individuals out there who would pay ridiculous amounts of money to experience and witness things that would make one’s blood run cold.
The most terrifying thing is that they’re not monsters who lurk in the dark; they are respected in the community—doctors, lawyers, judges. They hide behind their veil of normality, masking their depravity because no one would suspect their true deviant form.
I shudder at the thought of the things they would do to these children.
“How could you do this?” I direct my attention to Renata. “He’s planning on turning this place into a, a…brothel! Have you no heart?”
Serg clucks his tongue. “Get off your high horse. Not so long ago, I remember you laying down a hefty sum to purchase a virgin of your own.”
Shame overcomes me because he’s right.
Looking at Renata and seeing how Serg has brainwashed her, I come to understand this is my karma for Zoey because once upon a time, she looked at me the same way. I treated her worse than an animal, yet she would do anything for me, just as Renata would for Serg.
She lied to me, tricked me because she wanted to please her master.
