The van slows down only seconds later. It can’t be the second location yet. Which means I’ve got to hedge my bets on traffic or some merciful red light.
This is it.
I summon every bit of power within me and wrench my wrists apart. I give it everything I have. My wrists are free.
There’s no time to pause. I yank the hood off my head and kick out, ready for an assailant. My ankles are still bound, but I land a kick at the door, hunching into a ball to protect my head, before I roll out of the van.
Asphalt rubs my arm raw as I scramble to my feet. There are cars everywhere. No one helps. I don’t look around to see why. I force myself to my feet and start running, hopping toward the nearest storefront I can. Someone screams. I can’t afford to look up.
Past the blood buzzing beneath my skin, I shove my bloody hand down my pants and pull out the knife strapped to my thigh.
The plastic doesn’t stand a chance against the blade.
I break into a run once more.
My bare feet pound down the pavement of the shopping district, weaving my way through the labyrinth of pedestrians and storefronts.
Not too far behind me, the harsh roars in Russian are unmistakably clear to me. It sounds nothing like it does coming from Yuri’s mouth. Every syllable sounds inelegant and coarse.
It’s what it sounds like, coming from people ready to cleave me to pieces.
I run toward Newbury Street. That’s where Iosif’s coming. He said he was coming for me, didn’t he? I just have to get to him.
His face is the only one in my mind. The goalpost I run toward, no matter how my legs burn, and my lungs scream.
When I collide with another body, the smell is so familiar. It takes me a second to realize it isn’t because it’s my husband. It’s my dad. I can’t begin to process the relief that barrages me.All else in the rearview, I clutch at his elbows for dear life. “Dad,” I sob, my face buried in his chest like I’m still his little girl. “Daddy, please, you have to help me. There were these men—they took me, Dad, they’re after me—”
His hands grip me back. They dig, his blunt nails biting through my blouse. It hurts.
“I know,” he breathes against my hot, wet cheek.
The words don’t make sense to me. I can’t… I don’t understand. His grip fights me when I try to rear my head back. Only then do I see it. In the dark suffocation against him, I see perfectly.
He knows.
There is no measure for the dam of grief that bursts in my chest. It drowns me from within. I’m drowning.
“I’ll give you anything,” I gasp, fighting for air that won’t come. “Justhelpme.”
“The way Viktor Zakharov can help me?” I feel my father shaking his head, his hand stroking my hair. “I don’t know if you can, honey. He’s a very generous man.”
My blood has been replaced with quicksilver. My limbs weigh down, heavy with distress.
“You’re working for him? All along?”
“Itoldyou,” he says into my ear. His grip tightens when I try to pull away. “I told you I’m not scared of your husband, and you wouldn’t listen. He’s an arrogant man. All the Yuris are. Thinking they’re the smartest in any room. Like they’re fucking untouchable. And then I gave that reckless fool something to lose.”
“No,” I cry out, a death knell that echoes down the street. “How can you do this to me? I’m—I’m your daughter.”
He pulls back from me now, holding me at arm’s length. “No,” he says sadly. “You’re a Yuri. Remember?”
My heartbeat slows, lulled by the cold snarling through my system. A frigid, unforgiving frost that coats everything in sight. That turns into icicles that protrude, waiting for any collision to become a fatal demise.
“Let me go,” I say softly.
He makes a pitying sound in the back of his throat. “Viktor’s waiting, honey. He’s got plans for you.”
I don’t let him get any further.
