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“Yes, Pavel told me.” That means he probably knows I planted more. “As long as Zoya has that bag, we have ears on the inside.”
She did tell me she took that bag with her everywhere. My hope soon returns.
“We let the deal with Serg go down because we need to know every person involved.”
I know the answer, but I ask anyway. “And then what?”
Saint narrows his eyes, fire burning behind them as he responds with venom and without pause. “And then…we kill them all.”
This was always a tale embroiled in blood, deceit, and revenge. And it seems there is no way out without people dying. I may not like it, and I willneveraccept it, but this is what I must do if I want to go home.
This is personal for Saint, and it’s clear he will kill anyone who stands in his way of retribution. I understand his reasons, but I’m afraid of what his need for vengeance will do to him.
“And what happens when this is over, Saint?” Even though he is mere feet away, the gap between us is miles apart. “You said we need Alek to go home. Does that include you going home?”
Coming to a slow stand, he sighs heavily. He matches my stare, his perfect poker face in play. “Don’t ask things you know the answer to.”
He’s said this once before. And just as I did then, I feel utterly powerless, imprisoned to the noise as I reply, “I’ll never stop asking that, regardless if I know the answer.”
Saint arches a brow, understanding the significance. I didn’t give up then, and I don’t intend on starting now. He leaves me alone as there is nothing left to say. Drawing my knees toward my chest, I hug them tight, a feeling of helplessness swarming me.
I thought by setting Saint free, everything would be okay.
How naïve I was.
SAYING GOODBYE TOMother Superior and the sisters was harder than I thought. They became my family, people I could trust. The children were sound asleep, oblivious to our departure, which is exactly how I wanted it. They too became familiar faces, ones who helped me have hope.
But now, as we leave behind my sanctuary, all I’ll have are memories because I know I will never see them again. We’ve been on the road for what seems likes hours, but I suppose being squashed into the back of a van with the woman you almost beat to death, her brother, and an ex-concubine who sucked off your boyfriend while you watched makes everything feel like forever.
Pavel is driving, and Alek is riding shotgun. Sara and Max are following in a black SUV. Lucky them.
I’ve hardly said a word because what is there to say? Saint can barely stand the sight of me, Ingrid would rather be anywhere but between us, and Zoey is, well, Zoey. She resembles a mummy as she’s covered in bandages. I’m not proud of the fact I’m to blame.
All in all, this idea of camping out together while we devise a plan spells disaster. If Oscar and Astra don’t kill us first, odds are one of us will be dead come the end of the week from either giving into our murderous urges or dying by plummeting to our death, thanks to Pavel’s driving.
I hold the ceiling for support as the roads are small and winding. There are no windows back here, so I lean forward to peer out the windshield. Seeing no streetlights or passing cars, I know we truly are in the middle of nowhere.
When Saint said the mountains, he wasn’t kidding because we’re high up. The rugged terrain is covered by thick foliage. If one didn’t know where to look, they would get lost. I doubt any GPS could track these roads. And as for cell coverage, I don’t think they even use landlines.
But that’s the point. We’re here to remain incognito and untraceable. Yet all I see is another prison. The thought has me bowing my head and rubbing the back of my neck as I take three calming breaths.
A small part of me hopes Saint will ask if I’m okay, but he doesn’t. I understand why he feels resentment toward me. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of Oscar, and all for what? He bargained for my freedom, but here I am, still a prisoner in this fucking country.
But I don’t know where we stand. Earlier, he couldn’t bear me to touch him. And now, he can’t even look at me.
“How much farther?” I ask Pavel. I need to get out of this van.
“Not far,” he replies, but that doesn’t really help.
Alek peers over his shoulder, and when he sees me crouched over, practicing my yoga breathing, he reaches across to rub my shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, one I don’t even think twice about, but when I feel three sets of eyes burn a hole straight through me, I realize I’ll have to change my attitude. I gently shrug out of his hold.
When the tires crunch over gravel and Pavel slows, I exhale in relief because we’re here. Before he has a chance to kill the engine, Saint slides open the door, appearing just as desperate to get out as I am. I quickly follow, thankful when the arctic breeze cools my heated cheeks.
Rubbing my hands together, I blow on them, hoping not to get hypothermia because it’s so damn cold. Looking around, I see what can only be described as a modest-sized log cabin ahead. A plume of smoke wafts from the chimney, which my shivering body is thankful for.
A wooden barn sits behind the cabin, and to the left is what appears to be a garage. Apart from that, it’s only tall trees as far as the eye can see. This seclusion has me wondering if I should call shotgun on the barn as the thought of freezing to death is preferable to having to sleep under the same roof as Zoey.
The front door opens and out hobbles an elderly lady in black with an army of cats and dogs following. She is clearly the alpha. Pavel speaks fondly to her in Russian as she waits on the porch for him to gather his things. With the door open, I can see over her shoulders, and thankfully, the place looks bigger than I thought.
