by A. Zavarelli
He doesn’t argue.
So I walk upstairs to my office and settle in at my desk for the evening. The security system in the house only stores recordings for up to a month.
But I have no intention of leaving this room again until I’ve gone through every last recording.
44
TALIA
IT HAS BEEN two weeks since I’ve last seen Alexei.
I still don’t know what happened.
The doors are locked, and I am now a prisoner of the third floor. I have no computer. No communication with anyone besides Magda, who seems tired and drawn every time I see her.
At first, I thought it was a misunderstanding. That Alexei was drunk and confused.
But now, I don’t know what to think anymore.
I’m trying to stay positive. But every day, my belly grows bigger, and my heart grows smaller.
I gave him my trust.
And he’s destroying me.
This morning, when the door opens, I am expecting Magda with my breakfast. But instead, it is Alexei.
My heart stutters in my chest, and I grip the arms of the chair I’m sitting in as he walks closer. He has my computer in his hands. But that isn’t what has my attention.
It’s his face.
Closed off. Completely devoid of any emotion for me.
He pauses at least two feet away from me and thrusts the computer onto the table beside me.
“I have recovered these files,” he tells me. “From an email you received. Do you still deny it?”
I glance at the screen, genuinely horrified by the sight before me.
The photos are of me. But I don’t remember them. I was too drugged. Too fucked up.
I turn away and feel the urge to retch. Alexei is watching me closely, devoid of any sympathy whatsoever.
“Why are you showing me these?” I ask.
“You were the one that received them. You were the one, always asking if I liked fucking my whore wife. So this is what you wanted? You wanted them to know it too. Why continue to deny it?”
“Lyoshka.” I stand up and take a tentative step forward. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Do not come near me,” he says.
I feel like I’ve been slapped. My hands are trembling, and I am no longer able to contain the emotion that I’ve been holding back for the last two weeks as his eyes move over me.
“I want to know why,” he tells me. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” I ask again.
“Make a mockery of your husband,” he replies.
I take another step towards him, pleading. “Whatever has happened, you are wrong. I would never hurt you, Lyoshka. Please. I am begging you…”
For a brief moment, there is confliction in his eyes. He wants to believe me, but his past won’t let him.
“You are having my child,” he cuts me off. “But I want nothing more to do with you until then.”
“No.” I shake my head in between the painful sobs that are now wracking my body. “You are wrong, Lyoshka. Please… I love you.”
He’s on me then. His fingers squeezing my face between them in a harsh and painful grip, his eyes filled with wrath. He can’t see past it. He can’t see past his hatred. It’s consuming him, and I am powerless to stop it. I don’t understand. How can he not see that he is my whole world?
“Don’t ever say that again. Don’t ever lie to my face, Solnyshko. If you were anyone else, you would already be dead.”
He releases me and walks back to the door.
And with the sound of the lock, so cuts the cord tethering us together.
45
ALEXEI
I HAVE NOT SEEN my wife in two months, with the exception of the cameras I sometimes watch her on.
Her betrayal is worse than any other.
I thought with time, she would relent. But she will not admit to what she has done. And even now, it hurts to look at her.
She is due in two months. And then, I don’t know what will happen.
My rage is consuming me. Threatening the life I have built for myself within the Vory. Threatening my relationship with Franco, Magda, and even Viktor.
I have not left my house since the incident.
I have studied everything. Watched the tapes of us together over and over again. Looking for signs. Looking for her hatred.
I still can’t see it.
And that is what burns me the most. How she continues to fool me when the only logical answer is there on her computer. I have not yet informed Viktor of what I found there. I still can’t make sense of it myself. She could barely operate the computer when she got it. At least, that’s what Magda said.
Another lie.
I have gone through everything. Credit card purchases. I cannot figure out how she got the camera. I believe that Sergei has gotten to her.
It is what makes the most sense. He wants to destroy me, and she is all too willing to help. I don’t know how she did it. I only know that everything points to her. And I have learned for the last time never to trust anyone.
There has been no word on Arman. After Ronan hit his shipments, he returned to Bulgaria. And now, only in a few short hours time, I will be on my way there myself. Because I can no longer go another day without the answers. Without the truth.
Magda appears at my door, setting down my dinner. For the last month, she has not uttered a word to me either. But it is better this way.
I don’t expect anything from her this evening, so I am surprised when she tries again.
“She is not doing well, Alyoshka,” she tells me. “I am concerned for her.”
“You only have one job, Magda,” I answer. “Keep her alive and healthy.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I am busy.”
And so she leaves.
Leaves me to my misery. My cognac. And my plans.
Tomorrow, Arman will die at my hands.
And I will have my answers.
Why he sent her those photos. What they hoped to accomplish.
Franco taps on my desk and interrupts my thoughts. When I look up, Nikolai is beside him.
“What do you want?”
“Franco called me,” he says. “And I am here to accompany you to Bulgaria.”
“No.”
“If you don’t allow me to travel with you, then I will travel on my own. Either way, I am going.”
“This is not sanctioned by Viktor,” I tell him.
“I don’t care,” he replies. “Let me redeem myself, Lyoshka. You cannot do this alone. You know that.”
“I am deaf. But I have no problems ripping a man’s heart out. This I can assure you.”
“Yes,” he answers. “But first you have to get past the guards.”
“Alexei,” Franco cuts in. “Please. Be reasonable about this one thing. Going alone is a death sentence.”
For once in my life, I don’t care.
But I think of my unborn son upstairs. And it guts me to imagine him growing up without a father. It is the only reason I give my nod of approval.
“I don’t want Talia in this house while I’m away,” I tell Franco. “Not with Magda. You will need to take her to Viktor’s compound, where she can be watched.”
When he gives me a curious glance, I polish off the rest of the cognac in my glass.
“I want eyes on her every minute of the day. To ensure my son’s safety, of course.”
46
TALIA
THE SADNESS IS BACK.
Choking me. Suffocating me.
I miss him. I can still feel his hands on my skin. His breath on my lips. His taste. It’s haunting me.
I need him. But he isn’t here.
“Miss Talia?”
I blink, and when I look up, Magda is hovering over me. A sad smile on her face.
“You need to come downstairs,” she tells me.
“Why?”
“Alexei has gone for a few days, and he would like you t
o stay somewhere where he knows you will be safe.”
Her words feel like a lie.
Because Alexei no longer cares.
He ruined me. Just as he promised he would.
I don’t have the will to argue anymore. I only have the energy to take each day as it comes. Each hour. And each second.
My hand is on my stomach, protective, as Magda guides me downstairs.
The house is empty. Lonely. And it no longer feels like my safe haven, but like the prison it now is.
“Why won’t he just let me go?” I ask Magda. “Let me go back to Boston.”
She seems surprised by my words, and then sad.
“You are married,” she answers. “Having a baby together. Things will get better. You must give it time.”
“Don’t say that.” I pause on the stairs. “Don’t lie to me, Magda. You can’t keep trying to give me hope when you know…”
My voice grows too emotional to speak, and Magda pulls me in for a hug. Tears spill down my cheeks, and she tries her best to comfort me.
“I am so sorry this has happened,” she tells me. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t. I have tried. And I cannot get through to him. Franco has tried. You have tried. He is so angry. So jaded. He has never been able to trust.”
“Magda,” Franco’s voice interrupts the moment. “I am sorry, but we must go now.”
“What about you?” I ask her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Franco will return and we will keep the house running as we always do. But you will be safe with Viktor. His family will take good care of you. It is the safest place for you when Alexei is out of the country.”
I nod, and she gives me one last hug before leading me outside.
There is a convoy of cars awaiting us. Three different SUVs.
Either for my protection, or to ensure I don’t escape.
I would be lying if I said that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind in the last two months. I want to run. I want to forget I ever knew him. Ever felt his touch.
Because I cannot bear a lifetime of this pain.
I just can’t.
Franco takes me by the arm and leads me to the SUV positioned in the middle. Once I am buckled in and secured, he climbs into the driver’s seat.
All three cars pull out of the driveway, leaving the lights of the house behind. I can’t help but look back at it with a foreboding sense of alarm.
It feels as though I will never return, and I don’t know why that scares me so much.
The drive is quiet. And since I know it is long, I settle in to the seat and keep myself occupied with the constant stream of thoughts running through my mind.
I want to know where Alexei is. What he’s doing. And who he’s with.
The last thought is the one that hurts the most.
I have no idea what he’s been doing all this time. I’d like to believe that he wouldn’t ever betray me in that way, but then again, I wanted to believe a lot of things that just simply weren’t true.
“Do you care for Alexei?” Franco’s voice breaks through the silence, surprising me.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
“He cares for you too,” Franco replies. “But you must understand, it is easier to believe the worst in people. Easier to believe than having blind faith.”
“I don’t even know what happened,” I tell him. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“He will have answers soon,” Franco says. “He will come back and…”
He slams on the brakes and his voice halts abruptly.
I look up just in time to see a flash of color exploding into the night sky ahead of us while the ground vibrates beneath of us. My ears are ringing, and time seems to slow down as the car comes to a halt.
I am vaguely aware that Franco is yelling at me, but it’s distorted. Only when he reaches over and shoves me from the car, do I understand him.
“Run.”
The two second delay feels like a lifetime as I stumble from the car in my confusion. I’m doing what he says, even as I glance back over my shoulder and look for him.
But he isn’t getting out of the car. He’s driving it in reverse, crashing into the SUV behind him. And then in one horrifying second, they are both gone.
Another flash of fiery orange, another vibration. A chunk of metal slices into my leg and the force of it knocks me to my knees.
I’m frozen in horror, looking back at the mass of metal skeletons lining the road. Nothing more than a fiery ball of flames.
“Franco?” I cry out. “Franco?”
But he isn’t there.
Because there’s nothing left of the car but pieces.
And the horrifying realization of what just happened washes over me as I gasp for breath. He kept driving. To save me. To keep the blasts away from me.
Fear and grief swell inside of me as I glance around the highway. I am alone. And I am bleeding from the leg. I’m in shock. But the only thing I can focus on is that someone tried to kill us. All of us.
My first instinct is to run. To move on autopilot.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know anything.
The only thing I know is that I have to keep going. And so I do.
I move into the brush along the side of the road, using it for cover. Only then do I slow to a walk. At some point, I hear sirens in the distance. But I don’t trust them. So I keep moving.
I walk for hours. Until the road meets the freeway and I’m a safe enough distance from the crash. Until I can’t walk anymore. Until I’m nearly doubled over in pain. And I have no other choice.
I move up into view and watch for passing cars.
A woman in a sedan pulls up beside me, frowning when she sees my pregnant belly and the blood on my leg.
“Honey, are you okay?”
“I need a ride,” I tell her.
She ushers me inside the car, and I don’t hesitate.
I’m exhausted, terrified, and heartbroken.
Franco.
His name brings tears to my eyes as the woman in the driver’s seat pulls back onto the road.
“Where are you headed?” she asks. “It looks like you need a doctor.”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m okay.”
There’s only one place I can think to go. The one place where my past and present will finally collide.
“Can you just take me to Slainte?” I direct her. “In Boston?”
47
ALEXEI
ARMAN’S GUARDS let me in without protest when I tell them I’m here to discuss Talia.
Nikolai glances at me, the same question in his own eyes as we exit the car. I expected more of a fight. But the guards did not seem tense. Or even ready for a fight.
“It is what he wants,” I tell Nikolai. “Don’t be fooled by the accommodation.”
But even as we are greeted at the door by another guard, something feels off. This is Arman’s head of security. And even he does not seem particularly bothered by my presence.
Perhaps they believe me weak, now that they are aware of my secret. That I pose no threat at all to them. Or perhaps they believe that I would not be foolish enough to walk in here with only one other man and attempt anything.
But they are wrong, on both counts.
Arman is sitting at his dining table as he always is. Stuffing his face full of food and drink.
“Mr. Nikolaev.” He greets me as though we are old friends.
What he really sees when he looks at me is dollar signs. Money. The thing that makes the world go round. The thing that keeps his table bountiful and fresh slaves in his basement whenever his heart desires.
“Good evening, Arman,” I greet him in an equally friendly manner.
His eyes move to Nikolai, but I don’t bother to introduce them.
“I am here to discuss the return of your cherished slave,” I announce. “And also, my friend would like to see what other merchandise you have available.�
��
“Of course, of course.” He wipes his hands and stands up from the table. “I will show you the catalog of my current inventory.”
“I don’t mean arms,” I interrupt him. “I mean women.”
“Oh.” He blinks in surprise.
Arman won’t want to part with another slave. But it’s the cost of doing business. I know he will show us the one he values least. Most likely the one who took Talia’s place when we left.
And I also know, she will be kept in the basement. Away from his guards.
“Now that you mention it,” he says. “I have something I believe you will like.”
He leads the way downstairs, and he doesn’t ask his guard to follow. Again, I can feel Nikolai’s eyes on me. Something about this is not right.
Arman is not acting suspiciously at all. He trusts himself alone in my presence. And even I am beginning to question his behavior.
When he opens the door to the cell, I do not even glance at the slave. My hands come around his throat from behind, cutting off his air supply.
“Keep her quiet,” I tell Nikolai.
He moves towards the girl in the corner who looks so much like Talia when I first discovered her. I meet her terrified gaze as I choke Arman and realize that perhaps I am mistaken. This girl still feels. Talia did not. Perhaps that should have been my first sign.
Arman struggles in my arms, but it is futile. He is stout and old and not trained to protect himself. And the anger swelling inside of me is driving my control now.
I remove the knife from the sheath under my jacket and plunge it into his gut twice.
He crumples to the floor, gasping for breath as I kneel beside him. I dig the tip of the knife into his forehead until it hits bone.
“Tell me why you sent her those photos,” I demand. “Did she ask you for them?”
He stares up at me, and the shock and confusion on his face is genuine. It produces a sinking feeling inside of me.
But I know I am not wrong. I could not have been so wrong.
Talia has betrayed me, and I am determined to find out why. To prove it once and for all. I will pursue this belief to hell and back until I have my answers. My proof. When Arman does not answer me, I flay open his cheek.
