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“Come here,” he says to me.
I take my steps as strongly and confidently as I can. My eyes never leaving Ilya, who has now clocked on to me.
Confidence ripples through me in abundance, filling every pore of my being as I finally face my biggest fears, my biggest secrets, my greatest nightmare.
I stare at Ilya on the ground and want nothing more than to kill him.
“What should I do with him?” Vincent asks, breaking my stare.
I turn to him appreciating the control he’s passed to me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I want his death because that is exactly what I want. I want death for him. I want my uncle to suffer death the way he made my parents suffer, all of them.
But… just shooting him here feels like he got off easy.
I look back at my uncle and think long and hard about what I want. If we kill him here, no one will truly know all that he did, and he won’t get the full blow he deserves.
The answer comes to me in a spark of thought that feels right.
“Russia should deal with him.” As the words fall from my lips, Ilya’s eyes go wide with terror. He knows what I mean by that. He damn well knows. He knows I mean the truth. When the brotherhood learns the truth of what he did, how he killed my father, that will be his death and utter humiliation. That will kill him. They will kill him.
“I will take him there myself. Hand deliver him to my people. My face will be enough to sentence him,” I add. I sound stronger. I don’t sound like me.
This is what I became after the storm.
I look back at Vincent. He nods his agreement.
* * *
I’m so tired.
Three days have passed since the showdown at the prison, and much has happened in the space of that time.
I went to Russia, returning to my homeland, and I did exactly what I said I would do. Hand delivered my uncle to my people. Vincent made the arrangements. He contacted the president, and then everything fell into place the way it was supposed to. Easy because of who my real father was.
Ilya was shamed and executed sometime yesterday.
I don’t know the time, only that it happened. I only went to do my part.
Which was to show my face as who I was. So, I showed my real face. The real me. I died my hair back blonde and looked the way I should look. Like my mother.
Amazing what hair color can do. I looked just like her and like the older version of myself. The former ballerina who was on her way to fame.
I was evidence and testament enough of the truth.
I landed at O’Hare International two hours ago, and as I did, I felt I could put the past behind me for the first time and close the door on that chapter.
I’m on my way back to Vincent’s house now, although I know I don’t have to be. Tomorrow is supposed to be my last day with him.
This morning, when I checked my account, there was two million dollars in there.
The same two million dollars Dad stole from him.
Its’ a fortune to take care of me for the rest of my life, which is just the thing that got to me.
It’s a goodbye present, a very expensive goodbye present, one that has significant meaning though.
I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be screaming with joy and happiness to wake to such a gift. I can’t do that though, because Vincent meant more to me than that.
The car pulls up on the drive, and I get out.
