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Oscar, Astra, and Borya may have been the main players, but there are others who seek revenge for what I, for whatwedid to their kin. Alek is seen as a traitor, and he too is now hunted.
The night of the explosion destroyed Alek’s home, but it strengthened the need for someone to rule. At first, it was believed Alek perished in the fire, but when his body wasn’t found, rumors spread, and his fate was doomed.
He was believed to have instigated it all as he wanted to flee to America with his American whore to start a new life. He had gone soft and wasn’t cut out for his life of crime. The fact he paraded me around and showed weakness by being kind confirmed the rumors.
No doubt, Astra and Borya’s men were the ones who started the witch hunt. No one knows the truth but us. The rest, we can only hope, are dead.
We have a target on our backs and, it goes without saying, a large bounty on our heads. The most feared man in all of Russia is now the most wanted, so we are on our own. No one will dare help us because it’s their life if they do.
But Mother Superior has proven not to be just anyone. She opened her doors without question when Alek called, begging for sanctuary. No one would think to look for us here because no one knows Alek has close ties to this place.
We walk down the long corridor, and when we enter the orphanage, the happy shrills of children welcome me home. They run forward to hug me tightly, warming what remains of my broken heart. Sister Albina can read my fatigue and tells them we can play later.
I amble down the hallway, wishing I could appreciate the new finger painting taped to the walls. But all I want to do is go to my small room and lock myself away from the world. The moment I open the door, I sigh because a small part of me believes I will see him.
He’ll tell me it was all a bad joke. That he is alive. And he is mine.
But it never happens because he is dead.
Saying his name is too painful, so I merely think it from time to time. But what I did today is a forever reminder that no matter what happens, he will never leave my body or mind. I may not be able to say his name, but I will look upon it and remember how it felt to be his.
Closing the door, I take off my baggy sweater and toss it onto the single bed. Mother Superior insisted I take a nicer room, but this is all I need. Simple lodgings while I wait…but wait for what? Divine intervention hasn’t shown me the way, not that I would expect He would. I’ve been locked out of the pearly gates for good.
Slipping off my tank, I stand in front of the mirror that hangs off the back of the door. Gently unraveling the bandage, I gasp at what stares back at me. Although red and inflamed, its beauty still shines through because how can a name that denotes nothing but holiness be anything but beautiful.
Rubbing my fingers over the raised letters, I smile, allowing the tears to fall. It seems fitting that my first tattoo is for him because I owe everything to him…toSaint.
A single word in a cursive font tattooed on my flank. Saint was a sinner, and now, thanks to his name, I’m a saint. His tattoo read sinner. Mine reads saint. He is forever inked on my skin, just as he’s embedded on my soul.
Peering out the window, I quash down the voice screaming at me that he isn’t dead. He wouldn’t give up that easily. That voice gives me hope, but my hope died the day Saint did.
I take care to put ointment on each letter, remembering the way his fingers caressed my skin just the same. Is this why Saint covered his body in tattoos? Did the pain help him feel?
Capping the tube, I toss it onto the bed and hunt for a fresh T-shirt. Needing to keep busy, I sit cross-legged on the floor and reach for my Russian textbook. It helps to keep my mind busy and the demons at bay.
Lost in words which are still so foreign, I don’t hear someone pounding down the hallway until my door bursts open. I reach for the knife under my bed, ready for battle, but when I see it’s Alek, I place it back.
His refined looks are no more. He’s grown a full beard, his hair is scruffy, and his clothes are non-designer. He no longer looks like the billionaire I first met. Saint left me in Alek’s care because he believed Alek would be able to help me leave this country for good. But how wrong he was.
The lingering guilt, my only friend, bubbles to the surface because when I muse over our situation, I can’t help but feel responsible for his death because it was in vain.
“I’m sorry to burst in, but I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
He attempts to catch his breath, which alerts me that someone was following in hot pursuit. I don’t have a chance to speak because who I see robs me of any words.
I blink once. Twice. But she’s still here. They both are.
“Sara?” I squeak after seconds of staring at her, mouth opening and closing in shock.
I thought she perished because Alek tried everything to find her. Thanks to our limited resources, though, we had presumed the worst when he came up empty. But here she stands. She’s free.
“Hi, Willow.”
“You’re a-alive?”
She nods, biting her lip. “It’s thanks to him. He was always going to save me.”
