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Mom didn’t know whether he was really my father, but the truth didn’t matter. He would have claimed me for himself one way or another, using me as a pawn to keep my mother docile and under his control. As soon as she saw that blue line on the test strip, she knew she had to escape.
She attacked one of her nastiest clients, intending to get arrested, and was jailed for aggravated assault and soliciting. Her incarceration saved her life; she got sober and gave birth to me in a specialist mother-and-baby unit upstate. She was just seventeen years old.
My mother fought for me. I spent the five years she was imprisoned in an orphanage, but I visited her consistently. She earned privileges through hard work and endured regular beatings from the other inmates, who resented her special treatment. None of it mattered; she did whatever it took to see me. When she was finally released, we moved into a tiny, run-down apartment in Queens, and she took a job as a cleaner at the New York Public Library.
Those were good times. We had nothing in terms of material wealth, but we were happy. I loved her, she loved me, and that was all we needed.
Then everything fell apart.
I squeeze my eyes shut, unwilling to face the human wreckage around me. These young souls believe the city streets are paved with gold, and in a way, they’re right. But the riches aren’t meant for them. Malevolent forces lurk everywhere, ready to profit from their suffering.
I go outside and lean against the wall, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. My breath makes little clouds in the cold air, and I’m glad I have Sasha’s jacket. I’m even more grateful for the money clip tucked inside the inner pocket, which paid for my Greyhound ticket with plenty left over.
I ran out of the Kislev mansion with no plan except to leave. Sasha knows about my past—or some of it, at least—and so do others. Having that old man recognize me was a humiliation too far. I’ll never be allowed to forget where I came from, and I’ll never feel safe, either.
Sasha had the gall to steal my name and my freedom for his own ends, only to pretend he did it to help me? To keep me from being miserable with Marc?
The two men aren’t so different. Sasha may make my pulse race whenever he’s near, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t using me. He didn’t want to keep his promise to the Toscas, so he put me in danger to avoid his responsibilities. He’s possessive and speaks of respect, but he just wants my body.
Big deal. I’ve given myself away so many times that it’s a miracle there’s anything left of me.
* * *
A coffee shack beside the bus station is bedecked with string lights. I approach the counter, and the man inside smiles at me.
“Let me guess, pretty girl. Coffee with cream and sugar?”
“How did you know?” I ask, slapping a bill on the counter.
“I didn’t.” He turns away to pour the drink. “But it’s late, and there are no buses for a while, so I figure you got a long wait and nowhere warm to sit. And I ain’t never known a girl who doesn’t love sweet coffee.” He nods at the door in the back of the shack. “I got a bench. Come sit outta sight. Too many creeps around here, and I seen a couple lookin’ your way.”
I scoot around the back of the shack and sit. The man opens the door and leans out, holding a large cardboard cup.
“Here ya go, babe.”
I reach for the coffee. Without warning, the man drops the drink and grabs my wrist, trying to drag me through the door.
“C’mon, you stupid bitch, don’t fuck me about,” he says. I look past him into the shack and see he’s closed the shutter. “Suck me off, and I’ll let you stay here until the bus is due. Otherwise, I’ll throw you to my friends out there, and believe me, they will expect a lot more from you.”
I fight desperately, my voice caught in my throat. I clench my teeth and kick out, trying to create some distance between us, but the man yanks my arm and brings my body closer to his. He spins me around so that I’m facing away from him, pressing me against the side of the shack. His sweat is repugnant in my nostrils, and he fumbles with his pants.
No.I won’t let this happen.
With a violent backward jerk of my head, I smash my assailant’s nose with a sickening crunch. He yelps but doesn’t release me. Instead, he grips a fistful of my hair, and I cry out in pain.
Unexpectedly, he lets go, and I crumple to the ground, rolling over the gravel.
I look back to see my attacker face-down on the sharp stones, Sasha straddling his back.
“Are you alright?” Sasha asks. He raises his fists simultaneously and brings them down, slamming them into the man’s temples.
“Assuming you mean me, yes,” I say.
Sasha hits the man again. “Good.” He looks up at me. “Did you think you could run away from me? In my city?”
“You know what?” I stand, dusting myself down. “For a minute there, yeah. I thought it was gonna be that easy.”
“It took me less than thirty minutes to find you.” Sasha punches the man in the back of the head, drawing a pained gurgle. “We have so many watchers. All I had to do was set people up at the airports, train stations, and bus terminals. Lo and behold—you showed up here.”
