My right hand is purple and swollen to twice its normal size, overlapping the plastic strip on that wrist. With each thump of my heart, fresh pain radiates up my arm.
That’s not even the worst of this nightmare.
At one point, I woke up to a pockmarked fortysomething man named Yakov stroking my hair and saying he hopes I disappoint Dimitri so they all get a turn with me. Throughout the agonizing flight, I’ve done my best to sleep and ignore the men. I don’t know how many hours we’ve been in the air. I had no knowledge of Dimitri’s private jet until he took me to a remote airstrip the day after we left the lodge. Apparently, he’s omitted many truths over the years.
Through the window, greenery rises on the horizon, growing brighter and larger as we approach. The surrounding waters are impossibly blue in the sunrise. Lush and tropical, the land is small enough to barely count as an island, especiallyjuxtaposed against the others now coming into view in the same archipelago.
The visual holds my gaze captive as recognition creeps past the dissociation.
The shape of the coastline. The way the island rises from the water. The burned-out structure on the eastern shore, visible through vegetation.
My eyes find the curve of the shore. The exact beach where I last saw Mom alive. We’d built sandcastles and enjoyed popsicles with Dad when he came outside on a break. Then we played in the surf. Mom wouldn’t let me swim in the deeper water because she considered it too dangerous.
That beach has haunted my dreams just as much as the path where I found her body.
Isla de Huesos.
Chaos Island, Max called it.
The place where I lost everything, where Dimitri found me and started my life of lies and brainwashing. He ruined my entire existence.
My thoughts wander back to Max, the only bit of hope I have left in this mess.
Did he somehow escape, or did he die in the snow?
After Dimitri hauled me away from the lodge, we spent the better part of a day in a safe house I didn’t know existed while he made plans for the flight to the island. I kept hoping Max would come bursting through the door, but the brutal reality is that he probably didn’t survive.
Max isn’t coming to save me. No one is.
I wasted over half my life hiding from the people who loved me while dedicating myself to a revenge plan based on lies.
The only people whocouldsave me think I still hate them.
I try to keep the hopelessness from spiraling out of control, but my chest remains cold and empty.
As we come down out of the clouds, Dimitri smiles at me and gives my ruined hand a squeeze.
I want to shove his head into the window. Max’s attack left Dimitri’s face a disaster, with a destroyed nose and two black eyes. He’s so swollen, I barely recognize him.
Despite his injuries, Dimitri’s still in control, giving orders while everyone silently laughs at my condition.
Every bit of my training urges me to retaliate, but then what would happen?
Compromised with pain, starvation, and thirst, I know I wouldn’t be able to overpower him or his men. I have to hold out until I have a real chance.
Max would be patient. He’d wait for the right time.
I can do that. I’ll wait until Dimitri drops his guard.
The jet lands on an overgrown airstrip maintained just enough for the wheels to touch down. As one of the men Dimitri assigned to this mission grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, I spot two SUVs racing out to meet us.
Pavel and Anton are driving, which explains where they went.
Dimitri takes the lead, leaving Yakov and three other goons whose names I never learned to escort me out. They navigate around me with the precision of seasoned professionals. For all I know, they are.
I trusted Dimitri to give me updates on our missions, training, and personnel.
Which means I know less than nothing. I’m fighting blind.
