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“I was on my way the next night. The moment I turned the corner, four masked men jumped me. They took me to an abandoned building and tortured me for twelve hours,” he calmly relays, and I gasp, horrified.
“They wanted to know where I got the parcel from. I didn’t budge. I couldn’t. I knew Zoey’s life depended on me being strong. I had already failed her once before, and I wasn’t going to do it again. They were very…creative with their torture methods.” He absentmindedly rubs over his side—over one of the many scars he has.
“But I still didn’t talk. When they were satisfied, they removed their masks, and I saw they were the men who gave me the parcel.”
“It was a test?” I question although I know the answer. I know the game well as Saint had delivered his own tests when we first met.
Saint nods. “Yes. They wanted to make sure they could trust me. And they did. They took me to meet their boss, Popov…the bastard who had my sister.” Waves of anger roll off him. “He told me Zoey was well. She was happy. But I didn’t believe him. She would never do that to my parents. He showed me a picture of her, and it seems a picture doesn’t lie.
“He would allow me to see her if I did a small job for him. I had no choice, so I said yes. The small job was, in fact, a two-million-dollar drug deal. The thing about the bad guys is that they don’t like change, so when they saw me, they instantly thought they were being set up. All hell broke loose, but I was a quarterback. And I also know how to throw a punch.
“When I came back bloody and bruised but holding that bag of money, Popov saw more value in me alive than he did dead. No doubt, the drug drop was yet another test, one that I passed. So from that day on, Popov made me his personal…security.” Nothing but sarcasm laces his statement as it’s clear security is the code word for what he was forced to become.
“I agreed, thinking that when I finally saw Zoey, we would get the fuck out of Dodge. But when he finally allowed me to see her…” He pauses, needing a moment. “It was apparent that wasn’t happening.”
“Why not?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“Because the person standing before me wasn’t my Zoey. She had changed because Popov had broken her. He had broken her spirit, her soul.” The moonlight accentuates the shine to his eyes. “She was hooked on whatever drugs he fed her. She was his slave and a slave to whatever she snorted or injected. She was his personal zombie to do whatever he pleased.”
Nausea rises, and I cover my mouth to stop from being sick.
“Most days, she sat by his feet while he patted her head. And other times…” He squeezes his eyes shut, before opening them.
There is no need for him to elaborate. I can fill in the blanks.
“So I worked for Popov. I did his dirty work in hopes that one day, he would get sick of Zoey and let her go. The times when she was sober, small glimmers of the spirited sister I once knew would shine, but she’s broken, Willow, and it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Saint,” I press, storming forward, clutching his hand. But he rips from my hold, not wanting my sympathy.
“Yes, it is. I should have asked if she was all right when she called. I was so caught up in my life that I didn’t even think to ask if she was okay. I could have stopped all of this from happening.”
I can see why he would blame himself, but we don’t have a crystal ball. No one can predict the future. We all make choices, and those choices come with consequences.
“She was Popov’s ???????.His favorite. His pet,” he explains. “And in her own warped way, I think she believes he loves her. So for two and a half years, I’ve watched my sister be treated like nothing but a dog. I’ve wanted to escape with her so many times, but he’s brainwashed her. She believes she can’t live without him. She keeps going back to him, no matter how many times I set her free because that’s what he does. He is the most potent drug of all.”
“What about your parents?”
Saint casts his gaze downward. “I’ve saved them as much heartache as I can. I’ve told them that we’re okay and that we’ve made a new life in Russia. But we will be back. One day. I can’t go back home. I can’t look in my mom’s eyes after everything I’ve done. And I won’t go back home until Zoey is with me. I won’t leave her. Not again.”
My heart breaks for this family. One man has destroyed the lives of so many—the man who is set on shaping my future like Zoey’s.
“Popov is growing bored with Zoey. I’m surprised he’s kept her for as long as he has. But I’m not stupid. I know it’s because of me. I’m good at what I do because I have so much pent-up anger within me.” He makes a tight fist on his chest over his heart. “Each person I kill, they wear Popov’s face, and they bring me one step closer to bringing my sister home.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, but Saint steps forward and wipes it away.
“Your husband,” he spits, curling his lip in disgust. “He was my out. When he made that deal with Popov, I knew it was because Popov wanted a new pet. Zoey knew it too. After two and a half years, I finally saw my sister. She begged to go home. She begged me to do what Popov wanted, and in return, Popov promised to set me and my sister free. The conditions were simple—you were to take the place of Zoey. You were to be Popov’s new pet.”
I always knew this was my fate, but now, it means something else.
“So I told Popov I would do it. I would bring you to him. My conditions were that this was the last thing I would ever do for him. And that he would send Zoey to rehab. He agreed. And I believed him because he knew that I was at the end of my tether, and it was only a matter of time before I snapped.”
“How can you believe he’d let you go?” I ask as Popov hardly strikes me as an upstanding citizen.
“Popov does hold some honor among his men, and he will let me go. I have served him well, and in return, he will allow me to leave with my head intact.”
“What about your soul?” I whisper because the things he’s been forced to do change a man.
“That was sold long ago,” he replies desolately.
