AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve folded the clothing I wore into a neat pile. From the rear pocket of my pants, I retrieve what I took from my house. The brooch shimmers in the light. The rose inside from my father’s funeral is preserved forever. The glass is smooth in my palm. I press it to my chest, clutching it as my heart pounds.
Dad ... I miss you.
If he was here, he’d know what to do. He wouldn’t hide answers from me. Yes, he kept the illicit money from Yevgeniy a secret. But if I asked him directly, he’d come clean.
Unlike Mom, he never lied to me.
I went to him after one particularly rough argument I’d overheard. It ended with my mother storming out the door, driving off with the tires squealing.
Dad slumped at the kitchen table. He wasn’t much of a drinker—special occasions were the only time I saw him drink from a glass. But that night, he’d gone to the cabinet, yanked out a bottle of vodka, and sat down to drink straight from it.
His face went white with shame and humiliation from being caught by his fourteen-year-old daughter in such a pathetic state. I asked him cautiously if he and Mom were going to be okay. He motioned for me to come to him. I sat in his lap, though I was too old for it.
His eyes watered, but his smile remained strong. Holding my shoulders, he looked me in the eye and said, with all the confidence of a man who knew he could not lie, “Things aren’t as good as they could be, malyshka. But they will get better.”
Shaking myself until I’m dizzy, I hide the brooch with the papers under the sink. I wish I could wear it, but it’s as dangerous as the papers themselves.
I have to build up enough courage for what I plan to do. I’ve spent too long allowing others to dictate my life.
The sun peeks through my window. Shielding my eyes, I close the curtains. It helps dim the room. If I wasn’t dead on my feet, it would be too bright to sleep. As it is, I hardly get under the covers before sleep controls my mind.
Every time I think my feet are on stable ground, I keep stumbling into the holes others have dug for me. That time is over.
When I wake up, I’m going to do my own digging.
31
ARSEN
Facing my reflection in the mirror, I pull at the bags under my eyes.
I look like shit.
It’s not just sleep that eludes me. It’s that when I do go under, my dreams are shifting, torturous things that assault me. I’ve always been plagued by demons. For a little while, with Galina at my side, they retreated. But since Mila came by with more useless intel, nothing soothes me.
My most talented assassin has no idea what Yevgeniy is doing. She doesn’t know where he is, what he wants, or when he’ll act. Fuck, or if he even will act. The bastard has gone underground without any indication of resurfacing.
Scratching at my hair, I shut my eyes with a shaky sigh. My world is falling apart. It’s dramatic, yes, but it’s how it feels. I’m nothing without my plans. All I’ve focused on for the last ten years is how to eradicate Yevgeniy with my own two hands.
How do you kill a ghost?
Shambling into my bathroom, I run the hot water in my shower until the room is covered in steam. It’s so thick it chokes me. The water will burn me, but I stand under it anyway, enduring the scalding pain. Can I wash away all my errors? It’s a silly wish, because I know the answer is a resounding no.
Hanging my head, I remain under the running water until my skin is bright pink. I’m numb from my neck to my stomach, where the droplets assault me. Before the waterlogged wrinkles on my fingers split open, I turn off the shower.
The water is gone … but I stay where I am. It’s not until the steam fades and my skin turns cold as a corpse that I rip a towel from the wall, drying my body. I’ve run through a gauntlet of self-immolation. However, when I look in the mirror, I know I’m unchanged. There are no wounds. No new scars. I’m the same man weighed down by his multitude of sins.
I dress myself thoughtlessly. It’s a miracle I end up in brown slacks that match the hunter-green long-sleeved dress shirt I’ve put on. Sitting heavily on the end of my bed, I push my feet into polished leather boots.
Stalking from my room, I descend the stairs toward the lower levels. I’m walking without a destination. My stomach clenches, warning me I need food. I can ignore it—I have before—but I let it lead me toward the kitchen.
Sweet scents swirl into my nose. Sugar, maple, honey. All of them pale in comparison to her. Galina’s smell overpowers everything. I become a bloodhound when she’s near, unable to shift my focus onto anything else.
She stands by the granite island. Her back is to me so I can see the perfect crease of her shoulder blades, the arch of her spine, the tempting southern hemisphere of her hips. Her white dress is crisp as a notecard. It calls to memory the wedding dress she wore at our ceremony.
And just like that … she washes away the misery that my hot shower could not.
My life is a Gordian knot. Galina is the only good thing in it.
