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My father comes around the desk and picks up my journal. Without ceremony, he tosses it into the fireplace, and it hisses and releases sparks when it lands on the wood. The edges of the pages begin to char as the leather binding curls and shrivels.
My memories of Willow are turning to ash before my eyes.
My father’s footsteps recede behind me. The guards release my arms, and I slump over the desk, unable to support my own weight.
They follow after my father, and when the door closes, it sounds like cell bars trapping me inside.
Chapter 26
Willow
When I wake up the next morning, it feels like I’ve been hit by a semi truck. I got an hour of sleep, maybe two because I waited all night for a text from Alek.
My phone is lying on the mattress beside me, so I pick it up and check the screen. Still nothing.
I climb out of bed and stumble across the hallway into the bathroom. When I turn on the light, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. There’s a sallow quality to my skin and deep bags under my puffy, red eyes.
Once I finish getting ready for school, I head downstairs with my bookbag slung over my shoulder. Through the archway into the living room, the television is turned on, and Hans Müller’s hardened face fills the screen. He’s making an impassioned speech in German before a crowded square outside Parliament, which is met with roaring cheers punctuating every sentence.
When I walk past the dining room, my father does a double take, his fork held in front of his face mid-bite. “You’re going to school?”
Beside him, Galina gives me a pitying look, and seeing them together makes my heart ache for what I’ve lost.
“Yeah,” I say flatly. “I’m not hungry, though.”
“Honey, why don’t you stay home today and rest?”
“No. I’m going.”
Before he can protest any further, I yank the front door open and head outside. Ivan is waiting at the bottom of the steps with the car, but when he glances up, he looks surprised.
“Your father said you were not going to school today.”
“He was wrong.”
Ivan glances at the house. “Your father decided to go to work early today, but I can drop you off on the way.”
“Great.”
I slide into the backseat and shut the door without waiting for Ivan. While I wait for my dad, I pull out my phone and check it once again, though nothing changed in the past two minutes since I last looked.
If Alek doesn’t want to answer my texts, I’ll have to confront him at school.
Grigor Kurochkin threatened a lot of things last night—my father’s job, Alek’s passport, exiling me from Andarusia. And I don’t even want to imagine how many cigar burns Alek received after I left.
I don’t want to cause him any pain. All I want to do is see him to make sure he’s okay and to let him know I still love him.
And I want to know what’s going through his mind.
Maybe I’m still holding onto a shred of hope that Alek will find a way out of this—that he’ll fight for us.
My thoughts are interrupted when the car door opens, and my father climbs into the seat next to mine. He gives me a sad smile but gets the hint I’m in no mood to talk.
Ivan follows the familiar route to school, and when we pull up to the front entrance, my father reaches over and grabs my hand.
“Be careful,” he says. “That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Sure. Okay.”
