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SUTTON

There are times where I feel like maybe I can kinda, sorta pretend I belong in the Pavlovs’ world.

Then there are times like this, as I struggle to keep up with Oksana strutting down the sidewalk between twenty-thousand-dollar baby strollers and women in head-to-toe haute couture, when I realize I very much do not belong here at all.

We’re surrounded by money in every form imaginable. Lamborghinis and Bentleys valet-parked on the side of the road, storefronts bearing logos for Gucci and Prada and things I cannot possibly pronounce.

The people we pass have all perfected their upper crust sneer. They see me and they know at once that I’m not one of them.

Even the purebred dogs look at me like I’m shit on their metaphorical shoe.

My phone vibrates, distracting me from the gut-churning panic that I’m about to get dragged out of here by the Anti-Peasant Police.

I pull it out to see several text messages from Sydney.

SYDNEY: Sutton, I need your help. I’m desperate.

SYDNEY: I’m desperate.

SYDNEY: I don’t know who else to ask.

SYDNEY: Please.

I lag behind. A few yards ahead, Oksana is engrossed in a phone call of her own.

So I dial my sister and press the phone to my ear.

“Sutton,” Sydney gasps, her voice a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Sydney, what’s going?—”

“It’s Paul,” she says. “He’s passed out in the bedroom now. I have maybe an hour before he starts responding to light and sound. You have to come get me, Sutton. I’m so scared. I-I-I don’t know what to do…”

“Take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. Tell me what happened.”

“He came home last night in a rage. I’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control. His eyes were bloodshot and he… he… God, he smelled so bad, Sut. It was like?—”

“Never mind what he smelled like, Sydney!” I exclaim impatiently. “What happened?”

“H-he… killed two of his men.”

My blood runs cold. “In front of you?”

“Shot them dead in the middle of the living room.”

“But… God, why?”

Her breathing is frantic. “I… I don’t know. I can’t— I mean, he said a lot, but I don’t remember any of it. I think I w-w-was in shock.”

“I think you’re still in shock, Syd,” I tell her. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

“I… Uh, no.”

“Sydney.”

Her sob disarms me. “He just bruised my arm when he was dragging me to the car.”

“Why did he drag you to the car?”

“He wanted to bring me here.”

White-knuckling the seat, I do my best to keep my voice as calm and sensible as I can. Sydney is on the cusp of hysteria and if I can’t get through to her, she’ll spiral beyond.

“Where is ‘here’?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. And I missed all the exit signs. I was curled in a ball in the back seat of the car… thinking… thinking about those men… Their eyes were open, Sutton…”

Another loud sob turns the line hazy with static. “Sydney, honey, listen to me?—”

“I’ve never seen a dead body before, Sutton. They smell different… Did you know that?”

“Sydney, where is Paul now?”

“On the bed in the next room.”

“Passed out, you said?”

“He had a bunch of booze in the car. And he snorted a lot of cocaine, too. I’m scared, Sutton. I want to get out of here.”

Think, Sutton. Plan. Be the savior your sister needs you to be.

I drag in a deep breath to steal myself. Oksana is still occupied up ahead on the sidewalk.

But she’ll turn back soon.

“As soon as you get off the phone with me, I need you to send me your location. Then wipe your phone clean of the last few messages and delete this call from the log. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do it. Now. We don’t have time to waste.”

“W-what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to tell O?—”

“No!”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell Oleg, Sutton. You can’t tell anyone. He told me that if I breathed a word to anyone, he would kill me like he killed them.”

“But—”

“Come alone,” she begs. “Just you. He won’t be expecting that. He won’t get suspicious. But if he knows that Oleg is involved… He will kill me, Sutton. I know he will.”

“Sydney, I’ll need help?—”

“Please! I can’t risk it. If you love me at all, you’ll come alone like I’m asking you to.”

My palms are so sweaty that the phone is in danger of slipping right out of them. Oksana is hanging up and tucking her phone back in her purse.

“I’m counting on you, Sutton. Please. Please .”

The line goes dead. I stare at the phone in my hand as though it’s a ticking time bomb.

A second later, Oksana stops in front of me.

“You’re sweating,” she observes.

“Something’s come up, Oksana. I need to go.”

“‘Go’?” she repeats. “Go where?”

That’s the million-dollar question. Sydney was adamant that I come alone and tell no one, especially not Oleg.

But the last time I tried to do things without involving him, it blew up in my face.

Quite apart from the internal politics of our three-way dynamic, I just don’t have the resources or the know-how to break Sydney out of Paul’s clutches safely.

Still, if I tell Oleg, I’ll be betraying my sister’s trust.

If I go alone, then I’ll be betraying Oleg’s.

“Sutton?” Oksana presses impatiently. “Where do you need to go?”

I glance down at the ring on my finger. It’s glinting right in my eye, reminding me of the future that’s now firmly within reach.

I look up at my future mother-in-law. “Pavlov Industries.”