Sergei and Roman were back, and with a check on my phone, I saw that Andre would arrive momentarily. I killed time in my office until all of them were here to wait for my next orders.
They came and took seats, asking about Claire. I gave them the shortest and simplest answers that I could, that she was alive and resting.
“I also told her she could agree to stay here for good and accept this is how we live or go. Should she choose to leave, she will need to completely start over.”
It broke my heart to say it out loud. That was how addicted I’d become to the possibility of her always being here, to be mine.
They didn’t ask what that meant. They knew that I’d expect their help with getting her a new name and setting her up far away.
“But before she can go and start over somewhere else, we need to find her colleague.”
Andre nodded. “That fucking doctor who’s been siding with the Giovannis.”
“Wait.” Roman furrowed his brow. “Jack Harroun? I thought he was one of the Popovs’.”
Sergei shook his head. “No, I think he’s working for the Giovannis for a side hustle, moving drugs for them at the hospital.” He looked at me. “Either way, he will need to be found.”
“With how he delivered her to those motherfuckers, he has to be out of the way.” I wasn’t letting Claire go and live a life without me when the most prominent and direct threat to her would still be lurking out there, bound to capture her again.
Before the left, Andre shoved his hands in his pockets and peered at me. “Maybe she’ll want to stay,” he suggested.
I shook my head and dismissed him with a cold look. I wasn’t playing that game of what-if.
Hating the inevitable bad news that she’d be eager to leave, I spun my chair around and stared out at the nightscape, the city stretching as far as the eye could see.
32
CLAIRE
Satiny soft sheets caressed my cheek as I rolled over on the plush bed. Stretching out but not opening my eyes, I came to gradually.
Aches and pains roused me further. From lying on the floor the way I had, I was bound to be sore and suffer through some twinges of discomfort.
But as I lay there in Mikhail’s bed, alone and free to just be and breathe, I knew that those dark memories would only be in the past. Done. Over with. Left behind me and nothing to trouble me going forward.
I sighed deeply, relishing the peaceful bliss of blackness with my eyes closed. For how close I’d come to being violated or abused or killed, it felt only natural to savor and obsess over the goodness I was blessed to have now.
I was protected again. I knew it with the warmth and comfort of this bed.
I was secure once more. I felt it deep in my wary bones and battered soul with the quiet of this room in this fancy building.
Selfish to absorb every second of peace, I rested some more and prolonged the inevitability of opening my eyes. I had to. It was imminent. I couldn’t avoid facing the full extent of reality forever.
And when I did, sitting up gingerly and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I drew another deep breath and stared down at my hands.
Hesitating to convince myself of what was right, of what would be best and right from now on, I licked my lips and debated it all over again.
Despite the utter fear and shock that seized me last night, I had been awake and aware and cognizant through it all. It came back to me with clarity. No shade of PTSD was giving me amnesia or selective memory.
I felt Mikhail carrying me “home”. I heard him lay out my options in the shower.
He thought he was giving me two options, a pair of choices.
But truly, deep in my heart, there was only one that could work. Only one feasible outcome for how I wanted the rest of my life to go.
Sitting up more and hugging my knees to my chest, I scanned his bedroom. I’d never been in here before, but I guessed that would be changing.
Because there is no way I can live without your ever being in my life again, Mikhail.
