by Nicole Fox
I assumed we would be taken back to the ship and continue on with our journey to whatever buyers the Yakuza have lined up for us. So, I’m not sure what waits inside the building. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“What is going on?” Dmitry asks, but just as the words are out of his mouth, a guard strikes him hard in the back with what looks like a baton. He drops to his knees and groans.
Sadie grabs Tati and turns her away, so she won’t have to see, and I try to stay strong. I don’t want to frighten the children more than they already are, and I also don’t want to let Devon and Elena know how much Dmitry’s pain hurts me. I don’t want them to have any more power over me than they already do. If I fall apart, we will never get out of here alive.
The building is dark and cold. One of the guards goes ahead and turns on a light, but there is so much dust in the air that everything is visible only through a haze of yellow.
It looks like the building could be some kind of hangar for airplanes or helicopters, but I’m not sure. The floor is dirt with sand and some patches of grass around, and I realize it’s so cold because large windows in the opposite wall are wide open, allowing the sea breeze to come inside.
“Take the girls to the holding cell,” Elena says. Then, she turns to me, her eyes narrowed. “Except for this one.”
I tighten my hold on Olivia, and she rolls her eyes. “And the baby.”
I relax ever so slightly, but the tension returns the moment Elena has Dmitry moved to the middle of the room. A guard drops him directly underneath the only light, and it looks like an interrogation. I move forward to join him, to be close to him, but Elena shakes her head and two guards move to either side of me, ensuring I stay back.
So, I do.
Elena begins to pace around the edge of the light, her body half in shadow. The light cuts a harsh line across her face, and I think it’s a fitting analogy. She has always been two-faced. Two different people.
On one hand, she was the loyal friend of Dmitry Tsezar and a Bratva wife. On the other, she kept lifelong secrets that would allow her to one day overthrow power.
She’s a psychopath in the purest form, and I realize that I can’t allow Olivia to go with her. I can’t allow Olivia to be raised by a monster.
No matter what that means, I will keep her far from the hands of these monsters.
“You killed my husband.” Elena speaks with little emotion. Her words are flat, though her face is pulled into a soft smile.
“He started it,” Dmitry mocks.
Elena turns to the Tiger and nods. He takes two steps forward, balls his fist, and jams it into Dmitry’s stomach.
Dmitry groans and doubles over. Just as he’s recovering and sitting up, the Tiger hits him again. I can feel Elena’s eyes on me, so I don’t look away. I watch the horrific scene, trying my best to look unaffected.
“You never did get your hands dirty,” Dmitry says, his voice strained from his harsh breathing. “You’ve always been more comfortable on the sidelines.”
Dmitry can’t see Elena’s face, but I can. Her smile flickers down on the corners, and she nods again. The Tiger brings his knee up hard and fast.
I hear Dmitry’s teeth crack together. His head snaps back, and I blink away the moisture gathering in my eyes. He’ll be okay. They won’t kill him.
Right?
I don’t know what they want with Dmitry. Elena wants revenge for Rurik’s death, I assume, so maybe that’s what this is. Maybe she’s going to kill him right in front of me while I stand by and watch.
“I’ve always been more comfortable in the leadership role,” she corrects him coldly. “I’ve always had people loyal enough to me that they were willing to do whatever I asked. Though, you wouldn’t know about that. Your best friend became an FBI informant, and your next trusted lieutenant had been planning to overthrow you.”
Elena circles around Dmitry, keeping a safe distance from him, until she’s standing in front of him. She looks proper—hands folded in front of her, head held high. If I didn’t know her and saw her on the street, I’d think she was someone’s grandmother. I’d imagine her gardening and meeting friends at coffee shops. Not running criminal rings and trafficking innocent women.
“You’ve always been alone.” She tilts her head to the side like she’s studying him. “Your father barely tolerated you. Your grandfather was more interested in his business than your family. Even your own brother started his own family and distanced himself from you.”
Dmitry sneers up at her, but Elena only smiles. “I overheard your conversation with Rurik. When you drank too much and got too honest, I was there. I know you have a soft heart in your chest, and it will be my pleasure to rip it out.”
“You mean tell one of your guards to rip it out,” Dmitry snarks back.
Elena steps forward, and the Tiger repositions to put himself between Dmitry and Elena, protecting his boss. “No, I will have the pleasure of doing this myself. Because I’m going to let you live, Dmitry.”
My cold demeanor is revealed as a façade because I can’t help but gasp at the information.
They aren’t going to kill him right now. I won’t have to watch him die.
Relief fills my body, spreading warmth to my cold, cold limbs.
Elena glances over at me, annoyed at my interruption, and then continues. “I’m going to let you live so you can watch me sell your family. So you will have to experience every agonizing second of your family being ripped away from you, of your children being poisoned against you, of your wife being used by other men like a communal hand towel. I’m going to give you a fate worse than death until you are begging me to end it. Until you would rather I cut out your heart than live another second inside your own head.”
The warmth in my body turns to ice. My heart stutters to a stop, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I widen my stance and hold onto Olivia, breathing her in. Reminding myself that this fight isn’t over yet. There is still a chance of escape.
Though, the image of it is becoming increasingly fuzzy in my head.
Dmitry shrugs his shoulders. “Good luck.”
Elena snorts in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Good. Luck,” Dmitry repeats. “You’ll need it. You and Rurik planned for decades to overthrow me, and you failed. I killed him in a hand-to-hand duel. I came out the better man. I’ll do it again.”
“You’re not the better man,” Devon spits. His eyes are wide and black, pupils dilated. “Your bitch of a wife helped you cheat.”
“Only after your bitch of a father pulled out a switchblade.”
Before Dmitry can brace himself, the Tiger kicks him in the side.
The same side where the pilot sliced him earlier. This time, I can’t watch. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away.
My body physically hurts with his.
I wish he would just stay quiet; not anger them any more than they already are. However, I know that isn’t Dmitry. He will fight in whatever way he can until there is no breath left in his body to fight.
“You’re a bitch, too,” Dmitry groans, gripping his side. “You won’t fight me, either. Afraid I’ll kill you, too?”
Devon storms across the floor, giving Dmitry a little time to prepare, though it does nothing to soften the blows.
Devon kicks him in the stomach, knees him in the nose, and punches him in the eye. One by one, Devon and the Tiger take turns beating Dmitry. They laugh when he falls and spits blood; they revel in every groan and every cough, but still, Dmitry doesn’t lie down. He keeps getting back up. He keeps looking them in the eyes. He is strong.
Until he isn’t.
The last blow is a boot to the back of the head. Dmitry falls forward on his face, his cheek pressed into the dirt, and he doesn’t get back up.
I hold my breath, praying he isn’t dead.
When he groans in pain, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
He tries to lift himself up, but hi
s arms give out, and he falls back into the dirt. Elena, who has been standing on the sidelines throughout the beating, steps forward.
“That’s enough for today, I think,” she says. “Take them to the cell, boys.”
The Tiger and another guard grab Dmitry while Devon comes to take me and Olivia. He reaches out a hand to lay it on my back, but I shrink away from him.
“Don’t be shy,” he whispers. “You’ll have to get used to me eventually.”
Getting used to Devon would be like getting used to poison ivy.
In the end, he walks closely but doesn’t touch as we’re led to the same cell where Sadie, Sevastian, and the girls are waiting. Dmitry is carried in and laid in the middle of the floor. Sadie gasps when she sees him and turns Tati away, which is when I fully realize how badly he’s injured.
“Will we be given any water?” I ask. “Or blankets?”
The cell is dark, cold, and thick with the smell of mildew and rot. Not only will I need some basic supplies to ensure Dmitry makes it through the night, I’ll need things for the girls.
“For the children,” I say, lowering my voice, trying to appeal to any single ounce of mercy that Devon may possibly possess.
He narrows his eyes at me as though it may be a trick and then turns to leave. I think he’s going to ignore my plea, but a minute later, he returns with a bowl of water and a burlap tarp. It isn’t much, but it’s something. He snorts in disgust as he leaves.
I hand Olivia to Sadie and begin tending to Dmitry’s wounds as best I can. Luckily, there are only a few places where his skin broke, though that does leave the question of how many of his wounds are internal.
I readjust the bindings over his ribs to stop the bleeding that has resumed and use pieces of the wrap around his midsection to bandage a cut high on his cheekbone. Then, I rip pieces of burlap and dip them in the cold water. They won’t do much, but I hope they will slow some of the swelling around his eyes and face.
He hardly looks like himself.
I maintained an emotional distance while taking care of him, trying to focus on what needed to be done and how I could help. Now that I have done all I can, however, it’s difficult to hold back the tears. I sniffle and look up at the ceiling, releasing a shaky breath.
I don’t want to cry in front of Tati.
“It’s okay.”
His raspy voice surprises me. “Dmitry?” I ask, laying my hand gently across his cheek. “Are you okay?”
He manages to let out a small laugh. “I’ve been better.”
Sevastian helps me prop Dmitry up against the wall, and I have to keep Tati from squeezing him too tightly. Even in this dank cell, we’re all glad to be together again.
Dmitry signs to Tati, telling her how far away from home we are and how far he came to find us. He makes it sound like a wild adventure. Like a story that would be in one of her fairy-tale books. Even if we know our story may not have a happy ending, Tati doesn’t need to know that.
Eventually, she drifts to sleep nestled between Dmitry and me. Olivia is content sleeping on Sadie, so I let her stay there. In our situation, sleep is a reprieve I don’t want to steal from her. I wish I could sleep so easily.
“When we get out of here, I’m ordering a new mattress,” Dmitry whispers, drawing me from my gloomy thoughts. He nods his head, brow furrowed, cementing the idea in his mind. “Life is too short for uncomfortable sleep.”
“Compared to this, it will be like sleeping on a cloud. I’m sure we won’t notice.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but I still want a new one. A fresh start. What’s the first thing you are going to do when you get home?” he asks.
I want to play this little game with him, if only to distract him from his pain, but I can’t seem to find the energy. How can he talk so casually about getting out of here? At one point, I clung to hope. Now, I have no choice but to see things clearly. We are fucked. Beyond fucked.
“Come on, Court.”
When I turn to him, his blue eyes are serious. I feel like he’s gazing into my soul. As much as I want to, I can’t deny him.
I sigh. “I suppose I’ll take the world’s longest nap.”
He chuckles. “I think we all will. And after that?”
I want to stuff my face with an entire carton of strawberries and drink a gallon of water. I want to lock myself in my dance studio and work out until I’ve sweated out the memory of these horrible few weeks. I want so many things, but saying them out loud is painful because I don’t think I’ll ever have them again.
Thinking about our house, the beach, and the routines of our old life hurts too much, and talking about it all feels like torture.
Dmitry lifts the arm he had around Tati’s shoulders and brushes his fingers across my cheek. “We are going to go home, Court. We’ll all make it together. I promise.”
I give him a weak smile, but the wobble of my chin gives me away. He knows I don’t believe him.
Dmitry turns away from me and presses his head back against the wall. “When we get home, I’m going to clean up my life. I’m going to make things safer for you girls.”
“I thought you were already doing that. With the import/export business.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Things weren’t going very well.”
I frown, and he winks at me, though his eye is so swollen I can barely tell. “I wasn’t failing or anything, but I wasn’t happy, either. I planned to talk to you about it soon. Plus, while it was less violent, it wasn’t any more legal. I had to bribe a lot of people to get things off the ground.
“So, if not that business, then what?”
Dmitry turns to me, wincing at a pain in his neck. “What do you want to do?”
I think again about going back to our house, the life we had before; of going back as though nothing happened, and I can’t fathom it.
I realize all at once that I want a fresh start. An entirely new beginning.
“What about California?” The words are out of my mouth before I can really think about them. Annika mentioned something about California in the container. She said that the weather would be good for her and there would be more opportunity for a woman of her skills—I didn’t ask at the time what she meant, and I’m rather glad I didn’t. But it sounds nice. A new coast. A new life.
It’s clear Dmitry is taken aback. He wasn’t expecting such a drastic move, and really, I’m not even sure I want that. So, I wave away his concern. “Don’t answer now. Sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”
“When we’re free,” he says, lowering his head and looking up at me from below furrowed brows, wanting me to agree.
“Yes,” I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing his fingers. “When we’re free.”
Devon and Elena come early the next morning. Without explanation, they send guards into the cell. I clutch Olivia and Tati to me, so I don’t have a spare arm to reach for Dmitry as he’s taken.
Sevastian, too, is pulled to his feet. Sadie lunges for him, but he shakes his head briskly to discourage her. She listens and leans back against the wall.
Just as fast as they barged in, they leave, decreasing our number by two.
The two men never scream. They don’t beg or plead, but we can hear the beating they receive. The sound of flesh against flesh, of their bodies falling into the dirt again and again.
Sitting there listening to that while clutching my two girls to me, I can’t visualize the future Dmitry tried to lay out for me last night. I can’t imagine ever getting out of this cell.
And that is when I realize that we won’t get out. Not if things keep going the way they are. Not unless we do something drastic.
Dmitry and Sevastian are going to be too weak to be of much help, which I’m sure is part of Elena’s plans. She wants to make sure the men are too injured to fight back, but she’s underestimating me.
I can fight. I can escape.
I have to.
Tati can’t hear the beating, but she knows what is happening outside o
f our cell just as much as I do, and she buries her face in my side and cries. I smooth a circle over her back and try to imagine leaving her behind. And Olivia. And Dmitry.
I will have to leave all of them behind if there is any chance of success. I’ll have to escape on my own, get help, and pray that I can make it back before Devon and Elena have a chance to punish them for my disobedience.
The thought of failing brings tears to my eyes. The idea that I could ever leave my family in an evil place like this, for any amount of time, makes me feel sick. But then I hear Dmitry groan. Just once. But it’s enough.
None of us will survive unless I get out of here and find help.
There is no other choice.
Dmitry is brought back to the cell first.
He is thrown through the door like a bag of garbage, followed by a tray of bread, rotting meat, and water.
Sadie feeds the children while I tend to Dmitry.
He is in worse shape than last night. His face is bruised and swollen beyond recognition, and he isn’t coherent. I try to talk to him, but his words come out in a mumbled slur.
So, I take care of him the best I can. I wrap his wounds with the now-soiled bandages, I rinse his cuts with the water, and I feed him tiny pieces of bread, pushing the bites between his broken lips.
I try to keep him awake, afraid he may have a concussion, but eventually he can’t fight the pull of rest, and he dozes off. I lay the girls down next to him, hoping the warmth of their little bodies will keep him warm and remind him, in some unconscious part of his brain, that he has a family worth fighting for. That he shouldn’t give in.
Hours later, the guards bring Sevastian in.
They throw him through the door, lock it behind him, and then the lights in the rest of the warehouse go out, plunging the entire place into unending darkness. I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face.
Which is why I yelp in surprise when Sevastian says my name less than a foot from my ear.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “But you have to listen to me.”
“How are you even talking right now?” I ask. “Dmitry couldn’t even keep his eyes open.”
