by Monica James
“No, it doesn’t.” His anguish affects me in ways it never has before. I am so terribly sorry for it all. I’m learning how to be human; it’s just a shame these lessons are learned from the pain, the death of others.
I was never shown empathy as a child, and that continued into adulthood. Only now do I see how much destruction I’ve caused.
“Fine, I’ll help you. But this woman, Renata, if she can be spared, she will be.”
Clenching my jaw, I think of her cruelness toward Irina, toward Ella and a lifeless Sister Yali. “She is beyond redemption, Saint.”
“So are you, but there is one person who never gave up on you,” he replies bluntly, holding up his pointer finger. “If Willow had never shown you compassion, you’d be dead. So you have no right to tell me who can or cannot be saved.”
“She shot and killed a sister. She plotted with Serg and has no qualms about allowing him to exploit innocent children to please the sick appetites of the dregs of society,” I explain because there is no way I’ll permit her to live.
“Get off your pedestal, Popov. You’re no better,” Saint argues with a scoff. “I did your bidding. You may be able to lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”
“My friend, I know what I am. I’m the one who lives inside this head.” I tap my temple. “But she must pay for what she’s done.”
“And what about your friend, Ella?” he asks, and the moment he says her name, the hostility between us becomes stifling. “For her to be messed up with Santo Macrillo means she’s no angel, either. Would you order I condemn her too?”
Inhaling slowly, I feel every inch of my being vibrating in utter fury. “Watch your mouth, мальчик,” I caution. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
Saint bursts into jovial laughter. “Holy shit. You actually care for someone other than yourself. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Tsking him, I pull the pin and toss the grenade. “You should know by now how much I care for your sweet ангел. And clearly, the feeling is still mutual for her to send that postcard, alerting me to her arrival. I guess some things don’t change.”
Saint’s lips twist into a satisfied grin. He was just waiting, biding his time for this moment to come. This has been a long time coming…
We both launch at the other, both intent on ripping the other limb from limb. Saint punches me in the nose. I slam my fist into his chin. It’s blow for blow. We circle one another, fists raised, blood dripping onto the ground, but neither of us will surrender.
Saint spits out a mouthful of blood while I wipe away the blood from my bleeding nose.
He has always been a worthy opponent, and if we weren’t archenemies, I would call him my best friend. But that’ll never happen. He kicks out, dropping me to one knee as he strikes me in the kneecap. With a roar, he knees under my chin, sending me onto my back.
He dives on top of me, pummeling my face with brutal fists. With each hit, I can feel his pain, his hatred toward me. These feelings bind us together, and no matter how much he hates me, he knows he’ll never rid me from his world.
I allow him to punch me a couple more times before I strike him in the stomach, winding him. A split second is all I need to shove him off and switch positions so he’s now under my brutal fists. I don’t hold back as I punch him in the face, over and over again.
Saint is strong and flexible and uses his legs to toss me over his head. We both scramble to our feet, bloody and beaten, but neither of us will surrender.
“You’ve still got fight in you, old man,” he mocks with a bloodied grin, thoroughly enjoying the violence.
“Don’t forget, this old man taught you everything you know,” I reply, returning his smirk.
“Shall we finish it then?”
“You and I, my friend, we’ll never be finished. But you can try,” I sarcastically taunt.
We charge for the other, punch for punch with no winner in sight. He tries to connect with my ribs, but I read his move and dodge his attack because I was the one who taught him his fighting style. I connect with his chin, and his head snaps back with a crack.
Anyone else, they’d be knocked out cold. But not Saint. He shakes his head, ready for more carnage. Just as he’s about to deliver a sequence of punches, two shrill voices stop our advances.
“Saint!”
“Alek!”
Both our names are shouted at the same time, but by two different women.
Willow is behind Saint, hand over her mouth as she watches the bloodshed, horrified. Ella is behind me, so I can’t see her. But as Saint looks over my head, a musing look etched on his bloody face, I guess she’s as disturbed as Willow. I don’t expect him to understand my feelings for Ella.
I don’t understand them.
But what I do understand is that they’re real.
“Stop it! Both of you,” Willow orders while Saint shakes his head.
“Go back inside, ангел. This doesn’t concern you.”
Even I know he’s about to receive an earful.
“Like hell this doesn’t. If you’re done whipping out your dicks, can we think of a way to work together to save the orphanage? Please.”
I look at Saint through one eye—as the other is beginning to swell closed—and implore he doesn’t tell her what we discussed.
He wipes his busted lip with the back of his hand, and with a sharp nod, confirming my secret is safe, he replies, “Only because you said please.”
When he turns around to face his love, I turn to face my…Ella. She wrings her hands in front of her, looking uncomfortable. She doesn’t know where she fits in.
I understand this is a lot for her to take in. We all have history. Not pleasant history; but history, nonetheless.
We’ve just found our footing together, and now…I don’t know what happens now. She opened up to me, only for my skeletons to come bursting out of the closet. I want to tell her it’ll be all right.
But it won’t be.
Saint draws Willow into his arms when she tries to fuss with his cuts. He looks at me over her head, a look of promise reflected in his eyes.
This is done. No one will surrender.
For now.
I’m sitting on the porch, rocking pensively in the old creaky chair, smoking a stolen cigar.
I have no idea of the time, but it’s late. It’s only me and the two orange cats who seem to be unable to sleep.
Once I got cleaned up, I informed Pavel and Max of my plans. As suspected, they didn’t argue. They both knew it was the best plan we had. The only person who suffers is the one who has caused so much pain. It seems to have come full circle.
Max said he’d make a few calls to sniff out Raul. He and Pavel were in agreement that we had to let Serg “win” in order to overthrow him. I need the signed deed to be authentic, and for that to occur, I need to ask Mother Superior to trust me one last time.
I think about the night I offered myself to Oscar and Astra. I did it without any reservations because I knew it was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t my time then.
I had so much more to do. I see that now. I may not have achieved all that I wanted—but I learned along the way.
I discovered true friendship with Pavel, Mother Superior, and the sisters who, regardless of what I’d done, stuck by me when they had every right to discard me as others had. I experienced an innocence in Irina which I’ve never seen before. I’ve never had someone look at me the way she does—with utter trust and utmost affection.
And then I met Ella.
After Willow, I had no interest in feeling that vulnerable ever again. But with Ella, it was almost an unstoppable force. She made me feel…period, something I never thought possible. She tore down my walls with her strength and sincerity. She accepted me for me.
I never saw her coming. She blindsided me—in the best possible way.
I came across such kindness, which had me believing I was worthy of it. Being surrounded by nothing but hatre
d and ugliness for so long, I was lost in the notion of maybe being forgiven for all that I’ve done.
But I’d need many lifetimes to repent for my sins.
And the person who walks out the front door is the main reason.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” She’s making light of the situation because she’s uncomfortable. I don’t think she’ll ever stop.
“Sleep?” I mock, playing along. “That old friend evaded me long ago.”
Willow pulls up a chair and sits beside me. “How’s your face?”
I chuckle, taking a pull of my cigar. “I’ll live.”
There was a time when I would try to impress her, but not now. She’s seen me at my worst. She can see through the bullshit. She always has.
“I know you and Saint have a plan, but of course, he won’t tell me.”
“And you think I will?” I amusingly accuse, turning to look at her.
She is such a magnificent being. My memory has done a poor job of remembering her. Maybe I went into self-preservation mode. I wish I could say I didn’t still love her, but I do. I don’t love her the same way I once did, but those feelings still have my heart beating faster and my mouth running dry.
“No, I don’t think that at all,” she replies, drawing her legs toward her chest and pulling the oversize T-shirt over her knees. “I was going to ask you to tell me.”
“And risk being on the receiving end of your beloved’s fists once again? I don’t think so. This isn’t your fight.”
She scoffs, angered. “Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m going to break.”
“I never treated you that way, дорогая.” It’s out before I could stop myself.
The nickname causes her to flinch as I imagine she doesn’t associate many fond memories with being called that name. “No, I suppose you haven’t.”
“Once upon a time, I may have been the one to tell you, but that time has come and gone,” I state with a poignant smile.
She doesn’t argue the point because she knows I’m right. For me to tell her would be a betrayal to Saint, and I’ve already done enough.
“So, who’s Ella?” she casually asks, but I know she’s querying whether Ella is here of her own free will.
The question reveals that no matter what I say or do, Willow will always see me as the man who bought her.
“She’s in trouble,” I share. When Willow looks like she’s about to leap from her chair and strangle me, I chuckle. “Not with me. Well, some days…”
She clears her throat, not interested in my trip down memory lane.
“I need to get her back to America. She’s in danger being here.”
“How?”
“She fell in love with the wrong man,” I reveal, smoking my cigar and staring into the darkness.
Willow is quiet, no doubt mulling over what I just shared.
“And why are you helping her?”
She is genuinely curious because the Aleksei she once knew wouldn’t give a damn about someone like Ella. She would have been dispensable—merely a pretty face to warm my bed—but I’m no longer that man.
Yet I know Willow won’t believe me. Only when I prove to her how I’ve changed will I gain her trust and respect. I won’t be here to see it, but I can only hope her opinion of me will one day change. She will see the impact she had on me.
“I’m helping her because she doesn’t deserve to be punished for falling in love.” Meeting her expressive eyes, I profess, “One can’t help who they fall in love with.”
She wets her lips, averting her gaze as my comment is too close to home. And it was done with intent—for me, but also, for Ella…who is currently eavesdropping.
Even though I act calm, my senses are on high alert. They always are.
I always familiarize myself with sights, sounds, smells—everything that’ll give me an advantage if the time presents itself; like right now.
There is a loose floorboard in the living room, two feet from the front door that creaks ever so softly when stood on. I heard it about a minute ago. The window to the left is slightly ajar, allowing the pleasant breeze in. It also allows Ella’s mouthwatering fragrance out.
I know she uses the almost sheer curtain as coverage, giving her a false sense of protection that she remains undetected. And I allow her to think this when I give life to my plan, crushing her because I know she won’t leave unless she’s pushed.
Willow will eventually understand why Saint and I decided to keep our plan from her, but Ella will never allow it. Even if I ask her to stay, she will not. She has proven her stubbornness time and time again.
I can’t allow another person I care for to get hurt, and just the thought of Ella being hurt has me realizing just how deep my feelings for her are. For someone who’d never experienced love, with Willow and Ella, I think I’m starting to learn.
I didn’t know how to keep my plan from Ella, but now…I do.
“I understand this firsthand,” I confess without regret.
“Alek—” Willow shakes her head.
“I will always love you, дорогая,” I continue, refusing to let her speak. “You’ll always be in my heart. You were the first woman I ever loved. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I strive everyday to become a better man…for you.”
And just like that, a gaping hole is punched through my heart when her fruity floral smell grows faint, before I hear those quiet footsteps trod over the loose floorboard as she returns to the bedroom.
My diversion worked. So why do I feel so hollow inside?
“I believe you’re on your way to becoming a better man. And I think Ella has something to do with that.” My дорогая has always been so smart.
She too has noticed the small changes in my demeanor. I’m sure she saw how I responded to Ella. She saw the way I held her hand. Willow knows Ella is more to me than…well, she is merely something more.
“Yes, you’re right. Ella has seen something in me that I cannot see. I probably never will,” I share now that Ella is gone.
“She’s insecure, though,” Willow says, resting her chin on her knees, looking my way.
“I know. She doesn’t understand the relationship we have. I will always love you. But that love…I feel for Saint too. We are bonded in a way no one understands.” I shake my head, hoping I don’t sound like a fool.
But for the first time ever, Willow looks at me without complete hurt in her eyes. “I know what you mean,” she whispers. “What you did…it was deplorable.”
I hang my head in shame, but she’s right.
“I left here, intent on never returning. When I went back to America, I just wanted to forget. But the harder I tried, the more difficult it became, and that was because I didn’t want to forget.
“Yes, I’d never wish what I went through upon anyone, but in a way, if I never experienced such hardship, then I would have never fully appreciated the tranquility either. Meeting you brought me Saint. So if I had to endure that agony to meet the love of my life, then I would do it again in a heartbeat.
“Life is measured in extraordinary, unpredictable moments in time, and meeting Saint…meeting you, was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me…but I wouldn’t take it back.
“So, even though I’ll never forgive you completely, I still thank God that we met.”
I stare speechless, unsure what to say. This benevolent woman robs me of air and breath time and time again.
“I’m strong, far more courageous than I thought myself to be, and that’s thanks to you in a way. I wouldn’t allow you to beat me. Each time you pushed, I pushed back twice as hard, uncovering my true self. The woman my father would be proud of. And meeting Saint…” She stares off in the distance, a smile tugging at her lips.
“I didn’t know I was missing my other half until I met him. I don’t just love him, Alek. He is a part of me. Every breath I take is for him. Every beat of my heart is for him.”
Her confession stings
but not as badly as it once would’ve.
“And the feeling is mutual, дорогая,” I acknowledge as I want her to know I’m happy for her and Saint. I once wished she felt that way about me, but I don’t anymore.
And that’s because of Ella.
She has given me hope. Willow is my past…and Ella…she is my future. No matter how small of a time that future is, she showed me I can love again. She opened my heart, and if our circumstances were different, I believe she’d own it—wholly.
We just needed more time, but we don’t have that luxury.
“I know,” she replies, still smiling. “So, if something so pure, so…good can come out of such ugliness…then I can’t hate you. Neither of us can. We found one another because of you.”
I bring the cigar to my quivering lips, not wanting her to see how her words have touched me so.
“And if you can find someone, in ugliness and despair, then my advice is…don’t let her go.”
She knows Ella means more to me than I’ve let on. Women’s intuition maybe? Whatever the reason, it makes what I need to do so much harder.
I need to hurt her. I need to hurt Ella…to save them.
They’re both strong, stubborn, independent women who don’t need a man to rescue them. Both have proven this. Willow, when she fought for her freedom, regardless of her circumstance. And Ella, when she saw an opportunity to save herself, she took it.
They’re fighters—far braver than any man I know.
Willow snaps me from my thoughts when she wipes the corner of her eye, wet with a stray tear. “Good night, Alek.”
I look up at her when she stands. The oversized T-shirt belongs to Saint. I remember when she wore jewels and fancy dresses because I ordered her to. This look suits her.
“Sweet dreams.”
She leaves me to my thoughts, sensing they’re burdensome, and that I need time on my own to digest it all.
She’s given me what I’ve chased since she left me—forgiveness.
With a smile, I inhale the nicotine, victorious.
Sacrificing yourself for the ones you love isn’t for them—it’s for oneself…because love is selfless, and knowing they’ll be free…that’s the biggest gift of all.
