He taps something on his phone and the house shakes with the force of the explosion, loud and violent, rattling the windows while shouts erupt from downstairs, footsteps pounding as chaos spreads through the house.
"Now." He turns his back to me. "Get on." I climb onto his back, wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. He climbs out the window onto the tree branch, jumps down to the next branch, and the next, until we hit the ground. "Can you run?"
He sets me down. "Yes."
We sprint toward the tree line. The forest swallows us instantly. Branches whip at my face, leaving stinging scratches on my cheeks. Roots snag at my ankles, but I don't stop.
We run until my legs are screaming, and my chest feels like it's tearing apart. Finally, he slows down. "We should be far enough for now," he says, breathing hard. "But we need to keep moving. The car is about six hours on foot." We are deep in the woods now, the canopy so thick it blocks out the afternoon sun. Six hours. In six hours, Ilay will be back. He'll find the empty room. He'll find the guards distracted.
"I can make it," I say.
We walk in silence, moving fast. The adrenaline begins to fade, replaced by a cold dread that settles in my stomach. After maybe thirty minutes, the man speaks. "Daniil," he says. "My name is Daniil."
"Iris," I say. "Thank you. For coming for me." He nods and keeps walking.
We fall into silence, the only sounds our footsteps, our breathing, the occasional bird call.
My legs are starting to shake, muscles protesting, but I push through it, force myself to keep moving. "How did you find me?" I ask after a while. Your father called in every favor he had," Daniil says, checking a compass. "It took two weeks, but someone finally saw something. And that's how we found you."
"I'm glad you did." Two weeks. While I was in that bed with Ilay, my father was planning this. Guilt and relief war in my chest. The hours bleed into one another. The sun begins to set, casting the forest in shades of grey and charcoal. The temperature drops, biting through my sweater.
"We're making decent time," he says. "Maybe four more hours."
"We're close," Daniil says, checking his watch. "Maybe another mile." I nod, too exhausted to speak. Just one more mile. And then I hear it. A rhythmic thumping in the distance.Thwup-thwup-thwup.Daniil freezes. His face goes pale. "Fuck."
"What is that?" I whisper, though I already know. "Run," he orders. "Daniil—"
"RUN!" We take off, tearing through the undergrowth. The sound grows louder, a mechanical roar that vibrates in my chest. The trees above us shake, leaves raining down like tears.
We take off sprinting, but the sound is getting closer, louder, the trees above us shaking, branches breaking and falling. The helicopter appears through the canopy, lowering itself impossibly close. Suddenly, the trees break. We stumble into a small, grassy clearing and my heart stops.
The helicopter is already there. It hovers just above the grass, the wind from the rotors flattening the tall grass, whipping my hair across my face. It touches down with a heavy thud.
The side door slides open. And Ilay steps out.
He isn't wearing the suit jacket anymore. His sleeves are rolled up. And his expression is one I've seen only once. He holds the same expression as that time he bombed Russia.
He looks at me, his eyes devoid of the heat they held this morning. Now, they are just cold and Empty. Then, his gaze shifts to Daniil. I take a step back, my hand flying to my mouth. Only one of them is leaving this forest alive.
Chapter 43
????
ILAY
The car stops and I see smoke pouring from the house, thick and black, rising into the sky. My men swarm the property, shouting, throwing water at flames licking through the windows, but I can't hear any of it over the roaring in my ears, over my pulse hammering against my skull.
I'm out of the car before the engine dies, my feet hitting the gravel hard. "Where is she?!" The words rip from my throat.
One of the guards turns to face me, his face smeared with soot. "Sir, we're trying to contain the fire, but..."
"I didn't ask about the fire." My voice drops, deadly quiet. "Where is Iris?" His throat works, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing comes out.
Without waiting for an answer. I shove past him and sprint toward the house, the smoke hitting me the moment I reach the door, searing down my throat, making me cough violently, but I force myself forward. "IRIS!" Her name tears out of me, ragged and hoarse. Silence answers me, broken only by crackling flames and my men shouting.
I take the stairs two at a time, my boots pounding against the wood. The hallway is thick with smoke, and when I reach her door, I kick it in.
Not to my surprise the room is empty. The window stands open, curtains billowing gently in the breeze. She's Gone. I stand there staring at that open window, willing time to reverse itself, as if I coulddrag her backsimply by wanting it badly enough.
