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"Yes," I cut in, giving my mom a glare that says he needs to know, stop sheltering him. “He has.”
"Did he hurt you too?" Ruslan asks quietly, burying his hands in his shirt, and twisting the material over and over.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “But he will. I’m sure of it.”
I unconsciously cover my belly with my hands. He’s going to kill me. But I don’t say it out loud. Because if I say it out loud, it’ll be real.
Ruslan opens his fingers, staring at his palms, squeezing them at the air. He's holding something I can't see. "Because of that other man?"
The vision of Arsen splayed out, blood staining everything like syrup on a snow cone, makes me ill.
“Yes, because of that other man.”
Ruslan tugs at his shirt near his shoulder. "I don’t want to be like him."
Hugging Ruslan to her chest, my mother rubs her cheek in his hair. She fixes her solemn gaze on me. "You won’t. I promise you that you won’t"
"How?" I whisper to my mother, low enough that Ruslan can’t hear. "That tattoo means he’s chosen Ruslan as his heir. There’s no going back now."
"Is that man really dead?" Ruslan asks urgently. "Did I kill him? I didn't mean to, I promise I didn't!” His breathing picks up again, and I’m afraid he’ll start crying again.
"I don't know," I whisper, my voice coming apart as I admit it. "I want to believe he's alive."
"I... I don't want to be here anymore." With eyes shining from fresh tears, he looks up at me, chin shaking. "Get me out of here, Galina. Please. I'm afraid."
Me, too. My baby punches inside of my belly. I don't know if that was a fist or a foot; I picture a minuscule array of toes, a pair of footprints on the birth certificate, and bite back a hot swell of tears.
You can’t cry right now. You have to be strong for all four of us.
I don't have the luxury of letting myself be consumed by my own misery.
With an indulgent smile I cup Ruslan's cheek. My thumb makes streaks over the tears that have dried on his skin. "We're all going to get out of this. I swear. But I need you to stay strong and brave and fearless. Can you do that?"
He bites down until his chin stops wobbling. "Yes," he says, with all the confidence of a child who doesn't know how unfair the world can really be.
I tug at my prayer beds nervously. I've tried whispering into them multiple times, hoping Arsen can hear me. If he's listening, I want him to know that I'm alive. I wish I can tell him something more useful than that.
I don't know where I am... but if the beads are doing their job, that won't matter.
He’ll track me down.
He’ll find me.
He’ll bring us all home.
42
ARSEN
The lake is frozen solid, blending into the land. Everything covered by a uniform blanket of snow. The only markings on the surface are the triangular tracks made by geese and other animals in search of food. My own boot-prints cross on top of them as I make my way slowly over the ice.
I'm cold enough that I can't feel the tips of my ears or nose. But I don't mind. The mild pain is worth it. This weather is clearing my head. My bare hands clench in my jacket pockets, feeling for my phone, trying to summon a call from Josh or Mila or, God willing, Galina.
Galina... please be okay. You have to be okay.
If she's still wearing the prayer beads, I should be able to track her location. But I can't do that from my cabin. The cops need to get away from my mansion. I can't do anything until they're off my back.
A sharp honk echoes through the air. Craning my neck, I watch as a flock of geese, their black heads contrasting against the white clouds, soar overhead. I marvel at how effortlessly they sync together. Wordlessly, they fly as a unit through the sky like they were born to be there. One by one, they land on the far side of the lake, wanting to be as far from me as possible.
