AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nothing. I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to think. His heavy jacket is on the back of the chair, and I check that next, searching every pocket and coming up empty-handed.
Until I reach into the pocket just inside and feel the slender leather shape of my husband’s wallet.
Fingers trembling, I pull it out. I know better than to try to use one of his credit cards, but when I check the pocket again, just behind the wallet, there’s a money clip. When I pull it out, I see a thick fold of cash, and I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
Stealing from the Bratva is a dangerous thing. I know that as well as anyone. I don’t think that being Viktor’s wife will save me from those consequences—it clearly hasn’t saved me from suffering in other ways. But I don’t see an alternative.
I take the money and try to get the fuck out of Moscow. Back home, maybe, or somewhere else, somewhere far enough that my husband can’t find me, if there is a place like that. Or I stay here, knowing that my husband had me tortured, that he let those men hurt me in ways that won’t ever heal, and then pretended to be my savior. I stay here, knowing that for the rest of my life, I’ll have to sleep beside him, fuck him, raise his children and be his wife—a wife to a monster worse than any man I’ve ever known.
Worse even than Andrei or Stepan, because Viktor is pretending to care about me.
I clutch the money in my fist, shoving it into the waistband of my sweatpants and pulling the drawstring tighter. I know I’ll have to slip past security, and I don’t even know how I’m going to get that far, but all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and get as far as I can. If I’m caught, will it really be so much worse than living the rest of my life knowing what Viktor did?
I don’t think so.
There’s a tall, bulky man posted outside of my door, and I nearly dart back inside, fear clogging my throat and making it hard to speak.
“What are you doing out here, Mrs. Andreyva?” the guard asks, his eyes narrowing. I take a deep breath, trying to sound sure, like the wife of thepakhanand not a guilty girl trying to escape her brutal husband.
“Viktor asked me to meet him downstairs,” I say, lifting my chin. “I’m already running late. I took too long in the shower.”
The last sentence has the desired effect—I might not be the beauty I once was, but I clearly have enough left to make a man lose his train of thought a little at the idea of me in the shower. He looks caught off guard, as if he’s trying very hard not to let me see the thoughts that crossed his mind just now.
The guard blinks, recovering after a second, and clears his throat. “Mr. Andreyev said nothing to me about you leaving your room, Mrs. Andreyva.”
“I don’t think he needs to tell you his private information, not when he’s already given me instructions,” I say haughtily, forcing myself not to let my voice crack. “I think he trusts me to be able to give his security appropriate information.”
The guard frowns, reaching for his walkie, and I feel myself get dizzy with fear again. “I should check with him—”
“If you want to be responsible for making me late, be my guest,” I tell him sharply. “But I’m letting Viktor know it was your fault I was standing here in the hallway, so soon after being injured, and not on my way down to sit with him and have lunch.”
That does it. The guard goes slightly pale around the edges, and he nods. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Andreyva,” he says almost contritely. “I’ll be here to keep watch for you when you return.”
I manage to hold back my sigh of relief until I turn and hurry towards the elevator, my heart in my throat, my heavy damp braid bouncing against my shoulder as I try not to look as if I’m literally running for my life. I can hardly breathe by the time I dart inside of it, the guards posted on either side having been able to see my discussion with the security just outside my door. I slam the button for the service floor in hopes that I can avoid more security altogether. There might be some of Viktor’s men posted down there, but it’s possible that they left that alone, figuring that anyone who might try to sneak in would be stopped by the guards on every floor.There’s fucking enough of them,I think bitterly.
An hour ago, I might have been grateful for them. But I don’t know what danger is real anymore and what’s contrived, whether there’s really a greater problem that means that everyone needs to be at the other safe house, or whether it’s all a lie created by Viktor to cover up the fact that he plotted to break me.
I hadn’t thought having my suspicions confirmed would hurt so much. I have to blink back tears as the elevator goes down, fighting back the urge to simply lean my head against the side of the elevator and burst into tears. Maybe it wouldn’t have, before yesterday, but now all I can think of is the way Viktor had whispered to me that I was beautiful, the way he’d kissed me as he slid down my body, the gentle touches then and only just an hour or so ago, in bed together. The way he’d made me let down my guard, be more vulnerable with him, start to open up because of the way he’d cared for me while I was recovering, how afraid he’d seemed to be of losing me. The revenge that he’d helped me take.
Knowing that it was all a lie, just an elaborate setup, makes me feel sick and heartbroken all at once. I can’t let myself go far enough to think that I’d been falling in love with him, but some part of mehadopened up. I’d allowed a sliver of light to peek in, to wonder if there was a part of my husband that might be worth loving, and that door had just slammed shut in my face so hard that it had practically broken my nose.
When the elevator door opens to the service floor, I don’t immediately see any signs of guards. I slip out, breathless as I look for a back door, any way out of the hotel that might get me past Viktor’s security. There are bellhop and room service carts lined up against one wall, and I dart behind them, hiding myself from view as well as I can while I try to scope out where to go next.
There’s a double door on the far wall, one that I suspect would take me out to the street. I can’t be sure, but it’s my best shot. If there’s security on the other side when I burst out of it, I’m fucked, but I can’t see any other way out.
I hear the sound of muted voices, and I duck further behind the carts, shrinking backward and trying to be as small and still as I can while they pass by. It’s three of Viktor’s men, and I hold my breath, heart racing as they walk past, chatting about lunch. They’re so casual that it’s almost startling, but they pass by without so much as noticing a glimpse of me. I sag against the wall when they get into the elevator and I hear the chime of it going up.
It’s now or never. I know there’s a chance, too, that the door might be alarmed—but I have to give it a shot. I don’t have a better plan, and I don’t have time to come up with one.
I touch the waistband of my sweatpants to reassure myself that the money clip is still there, and then I take a deep breath and bolt towards the double doors.
The entire way there, in the few moments that it takes me to run for the doors, I’m certain a hand is going to grab me and pull me back, or a voice is going to shout that they see me, but no one does. I shove the doors open with both hands, heart pounding, waiting for the shriek of an alarm or the startled faces of guards on the other side.
But neither of those things happens. This particular door is both unalarmed and unguarded. I burst out into the chilly, overcast Moscow day, my pulse racing so fast that I feel as if I might pass out again, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk just outside the hotel.
Go!My mind screams at me.Get the fuck out of here before someone sees you!
I don’t know which way to go to get to a bus station or a train or an airport. I don’t speak Russian. I don’t think I have enough money for a flight, but I’m not certain, and a bus isn’t going to take me far enough, fast enough. A train seems like the best bet, but I know exactly how I look, and I’m not even sure I’ll get as far as buying a ticket if I can find it at all.
