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The Avtoritet approached. He was sweating profusely and panting like he’d been running. “I apologize for the interruption. I would never intentionally—”
Vasili raised a hand to slow him down. “Skip the groveling. What is it?”
He looked pained, like he knew he was about to be a very shoot-worthy messenger. His eyes darted back and forth between Vasili and Mikhail, the two most powerful men in the entire city, to whom he answered at the end of the day. He swallowed his nerves and answered, “It’s about the Baranov girl, sir… She’s gone missing.”
CHAPTER4
ANNIKA
On a quiet backroad along the coast of California, the headlights of a light blue Bentley convertible flickered on. The beams pierced into the early morning darkness like two knives. Fog hung heavy around the dark green fields and obscured the road, making it look like the highway simply dissolved into the mist. This stretch of asphalt felt particularly isolated, a no-man’s-land between cities. On one side, a rolling green field of waving grasses stretched out toward the mountains. Clouds hung around the peaks, giving the landscape an even more mystical feel. The fields were dotted with white splotches, and if you looked closely, you could see them slowly moving across the grass. Occasionally, a coastal breeze would carry the chorus of softly mooing cows out to the road.
The pale glow of dawn glittered along the contours of the luxury sports car. The paint, which had remained totally clean for most of the car’s existence, was looking a little worse for wear by now. Scrapes and tiny dents could be found with a discerning eye, ruining the smooth effect of the glossy paint. A layer of dust and grime coated the car’s hood. Bits of vegetation clung to the damp tires, and unfortunate tiny bugs were smashed into the front and back windshields. Even the license plate was splashed with mud from a few hours driving in the rain. The Bentley looked like it had been through quite the marathon run. It had been a garage-dweller all its life until Annika had freed it from its tomb and unleashed it on the highway. Clearly, it was a machine built to be admired, not to be driven across state lines as a getaway vehicle. Especially by an inexperienced driver who’d only selected it for two reasons: it had an automatic transmission, and she knew where to find the keys. The stylish look of the Bentley didn’t even factor into Annika’s criteria. She knew very little about cars, and cared even less. If it had a working engine and available keys, it was all she needed.
Annika leaned forward, pulled those same keys from her purse on the passenger seat beside her, and fit them into the ignition. The engine sputtered a few times before it rumbled to life, as though it was reluctant to clock in for another day.
“Wake up,” Annika encouraged it in a scratchy, sleepy voice.
It was a command for herself as much as for the Bentley. She reached down to adjust the seat, which she had reclined back as far as it would go in order to sleep somewhat comfortably in the car overnight. The driver’s seat hummed as it scooted forward, the back pulling up straight. Annika yawned and rubbed her eyes. She peered out the windows, rolling down all four to wick away the humidity that formed a blurry cast over the glass. She took a deep breath of the fresh air that came rushing into the convertible. It smelled of sea salt and manure, which she found oddly pleasant. It reminded her of the charming farmhouses and fields she had passed on the drive from Las Vegas, mostly once she crossed into California.
Everywhere she looked, she could see green. Grass, trees, mountains. Features that had been there for centuries before and would remain for centuries to come. The world felt so wide open, so full of adventure, and so old. There was a history here. People who lived out here probably had done so for generations, tending the land and continuing traditions. It was a slower way of life.
Annika had never seen a place like this before, at least not in person. She was used to the hustle and bustle of the big city. Even within her sheltered world, Las Vegas formed the frenetic, neon-glowing backdrop. Everything was flashy and bright, brand new and shiny. Vegas was a testament to mankind’s desire to turn even the least hospitable environment into a human paradise. Man-made structures dominated the landscape, making the desert terrain feel like a blank canvas, rather than a natural habitat. Something to alter, rather than cultivate. And it was so damn busy all the time. Even for people who didn’t live directly under the oppressive thumb of Egor Baranov, the city made it hard to be alone. There were people everywhere. Always watching, always judging.
But out here, Annika felt like she could breathe deeply for the first time. Nobody was around to shuffle her from one activity to the next. No one was barking commands at her or throwing criticism in her direction. No staff members or bodyguards supervising her at all times. Annika hadn’t even realized how tense it all felt until she broke free. She was able to stretch out and take up space like never before, even though she had essentially been living out of a car for the past couple of days. Still, it wasn’t as if her escape plan had gone off totally without a hitch.
All she’d had to work with were the items she had hastily shoved into a large backpack under the secrecy of night. As it turned out, sleeping in the front seat of a car was not as comfortable as crawling into a warm, comfy bed at night. Annika had not even packed a blanket or pillow. She had used a cardigan as a blanket and a pair of thick, wooly socks that she’d balled up into a makeshift pillow. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but Annika knew there wasn’t time for that. From the moment Egor had dropped the revelations that not only was she not going to NYC to be a ballerina, but she was now engaged to some man she didn’t even know, she had known she had to get out of there.
She still felt a deep twinge of heartbreak when she thought about her father’s words. She could picture his face so clearly. The dark pits of his eyes boring into hers. The way his lined face had crumpled into a cruel smile as he shattered her hopes and dreams. Annika shuddered to remember how much pleasure he had taken in seeing her pain.
How could he have lied to her face so obviously for so long? His own daughter, his flesh and blood. He had let her plaster her bedroom walls with posters of professional ballet dancers and chatter on and on about her future plans in the Big Apple. He had paid a lot of money over the years for her ballet gear, clothes, and lessons, not to mention remodeling an entire suite of the house into a ballet studio. He had said nothing while she’d dreamed of a beautiful tomorrow, giving her no hint that he actually planned to tear it all down.
And it wasn’t just him. Annika’s heart hurt even more thinking about how he had enlisted the help of Miss Claire and the other ballerinas, even her own mother. They had all lied to her. Annika felt so foolish. Her mother had played along, giving her all those bullshit reasons to take a gap year. She understood now why her fellow dancers seemed so standoffish during those last few weeks of lessons. The dynamic of the group had changed; they weren’t just friends anymore. After years of closeness, the other girls had closed themselves off to her, like they had known their friendship had an expiration date. They had known the truth, and it had to have been difficult to keep it from her, but they had, until it was time to say goodbye.
She wondered how they had found out about her arranged marriage plot. If it was common enough knowledge for the girls to know, dideveryoneknow? How long had this plan been in effect? Was she truly the last one to find out about her own arranged engagement?
The answer was obvious to her. Of course she’d had to be the last to know. Her father had understood that she wouldn’t agree to it if given the choice. He’d had to keep it a secret so she wouldn’t have a reason to bolt. Just like everything else he did, it had been a ploy to keep her locked up and in the dark. To control her. It must have seemed like a perfect plan. After all, Annika was his own daughter; she trusted him. All they’d had to do was feed into her pipe dream, and she had done the rest.
But their plan had backfired. Instead of shocking or crushing her into submission, Egor’s revelation of the marriage plot had only made Annika angry. The betrayal had intensified her desire to break free. Now that they had hurt her so badly, there were no tender feelings left to guilt her back home. It was a wake-up call. The gears had started turning in her head the moment her father broke the bad news. Annika played along. All afternoon, she had silently plotted her escape. She’d attended the family dinner that evening and kept her mouth shut.
Hours later, when she had been sure that everyone was asleep, Annika had leapt into action. She’d quickly thrown some necessities into a backpack, nicked a credit card from her mother’s designer handbag, and sneaked down to the garage. With her heart pounding, she had typed her father’s birthday into the coded safe. The pressurized door had wheezed open, and Annika had taken out the keys to the Bentley. Certain that she was going to be caught at any time, she had climbed into the car with her backpack. She’d sat behind the wheel, just breathing deeply and going over the route on her phone. It had taken her a while to get her courage up, but at last, she’d opened the garage door and taken off down the long driveway. The security team who worked at Baranov Manor clearly hadn’t been warned that she might bolt. No one considered Annika strong enough to try it.
But here she was, days later and hundreds of miles away. She had driven straight through the night and into the morning, only stopping for gasoline and snacks, paid for with the stolen credit card. It had taken them a day or so to realize where she was getting her money from, and by then, she had already used the card to buy a plane ticket from Eureka, California, to New York City. It was the cheapest, closest route she could find, and it had the added benefit of being located out here in northern California, beyond the reach of her father back in Nevada.
Annika’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she eased the car into drive. The gas tank was lower than ideal. She still needed the fancy car to get her all the way to the airport in Arcata. She had tried to fill up the tank one last time the night before, only to find that the credit card had finally been canceled. With no other option, she had returned to the road, only pulling over to sleep once she was nodding off at the wheel. It had been days since her last shower or real meal, but she was so close to freedom now, she could almost taste it.
The morning sun was brilliant and sharp, stinging her eyes as she drove along the coast. The green farmland gave way to views of the ocean. Annika watched the distant waves rolling in against the shore. It gave her a little thrill to see it, even under these less-than-ideal circumstances. She drank in the scenery of the rugged coastline, the boats of every size and shape bobbing in the docks. The clouds gathered in fluffy blue puffs over the glittering waves. Sea birds cried out as they flew in loopy circles over the shore.
Annika watched them soar, thinking about how she was about to take flight too. Her heart fluttered at the thought of getting on a plane. It would be her first time flying—her first time traveling, for that matter. She just had to make it to the airport first.
The Bentley clunked and coughed as it rolled along the coast. Clearly, the car wasn’t meant for a long road trip. It probably hadn’t even been driven in months, maybe years. The fuel level dwindled lower and lower. Annika’s heart thumped faster.
“Come on,” she mumbled. “Don’t give up on me.”
But within an hour of driving, the Bentley puffed its last breath. Annika felt the engine give up beneath her. “No, no, no, no,” she muttered feverishly as she guided the car off the road. It coasted to a stop, and Annika’s eyes burned with tears as she sat in the driver’s seat. It was so unfair. She was trying so hard, and she was so close…
She had to get to that damn airport somehow.
So she rallied her confidence and stepped out of the car with her backpack on. Annika began walking down the highway with her thumb held out, hoping for a ride. She knew it was a dangerous game to play, but what other option did she have? Call her parents to save her? It was out of the question.
