Page 19

Late afternoon, with the rain drizzling lightly across the windshield of my car, I am driving back home from a small errand in the city.

I find myself thinking about Sasha far more often than I should when I am not around her. Right now, whether I want to admit it or not, I am looking forward to getting home and seeing her.

I left the house early this morning and we didn’t even have our usual breakfast together.

Down a long open road, my eyes are on the horizon in the distance when my phone starts ringing loudly in the Bluetooth set connected to my car.

I push the flashing green button on the screen on my dashboard, answering the call from an unknown number.

“Hello,” I say into my empty car.

“Leon Dubrov, how are you on this fine afternoon?”

My insides twist at the sound of his voice. My hands grip tighter on the steering wheel and my knuckles start to grow white.

“Danil Balakin. What can I help you with today?”

“Well, isn’t that a question and a half. I’ll tell you what you can help me with, Leon. You can give me my daughter back.” He laughs, but it’s dry and cracked with anger.

“I can’t help you with that,” I say coolly, despite my insides churning and spinning wildly.

“Where is she, Leon? I know you have her, I just don’t know where. You can tell me now, or you can wait for me to find you, and I promise you the latter won’t be pretty.”

“Again, Balakin, I cannot help you with that.”

“Listen here, asshole. You took something that doesn’t belong to you. That girl belongs to me, and she should be here, with me, doing as she’s told. No one messes with me like this. No one takes my things. The lack of respect you have shown me is unspeakable—"

“Your things? You mean your daughter? You make it sound like I took one of your cars.”

“Car. Daughter. What does it matter—the point is that no one steals from me,” he screams into the phone.

He really doesn’t give a shit about Sasha. He hasn’t even asked how she is or if she’s okay. He hasn’t asked if I’ve hurt her or touched her. He just doesn’t care. I think he might be more interested to know if she was unscratched if she was a one of his cars.

“Danil, I’ll never give her back to you. She belongs to me now, and I’ll do with her what I want. She is no longer your possession or concern.”

“You’d better give her back to me. If you don’t, I’ll ruin you. I’ll have your entire life torn apart. I’ll bury your businesses and burn your properties to the ground.”

“I promise you, Danil, the second you come after me, I’ll kill Sasha,” I say, so calm and collected that he is stunned into silence.

Balakin swears loudly, and I hear a crashing sound which I can only assume was him throwing his phone, because the line goes dead a moment later.

I press my screen to disconnect from my side just in case and then stare at the road ahead of me. On the phone I sounded confident. I sounded like I knew exactly what I wanted and what my plan was—but inside, I shaken.

I threatened to kill her.

I said the words out loud.

I’ll kill Sasha.

It echoes back into my thoughts, again and again.

I’d already decided not to involve her in any of this, and of course, I have no intention of killing her, but just saying the words to her father has cut into me more deeply than I could have expected them to.

Even pretending to want to do that to her—for the sake of my plan—makes me feel sick.

I can’t promise to kill an innocent person who has done nothing wrong to anyone. All she did was survive the torture of a man I hate. My original plan to use her life as a bargaining tool has gone out of the window a while ago already.

But I don’t need Danil to know that.

It was my plan all along. That was what I wanted.

But now. I just want Balakin in a rage. I want him angry, frustrated, his ego in shreds. Judging by his reaction on the phone, I am getting what I want.

But I said the words.

I said I would kill her.

“ Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I press the accelerator down to get home faster. It’s really bothering me.

I pull into the driveway, glancing in my rearview mirror. It’s silly to be paranoid; it was just a phone call. He doesn’t know where we are. But I guess there is also a distinction between paranoia and vigilance. My father’s house was a fortress and Balakin still got to my family.

Just hearing his voice has my nerves frayed and spiked at the edges.

I hate that man. I hate him with every fiber in my body, and I want him to suffer.

I walk into the house, forgetting the earlier excitement I had felt at the thought of seeing Sasha, and when she comes to greet me, I am flooded with guilt instead of happiness.

“Did you get your business in the city done?” she asks cheerfully.

“No. I still have work to do. I’ll be in my office,” I snap, not meaning to, and then walk away before she can read my mind and how I told her father I was going to kill her.

I walk away, but not before I see the hurt in her eyes at my harsh tone.

I have to ignore it. I have a plan. I had a plan. I had a plan for years, and I can’t let my emotions get in the way of fulfilling that plan.

In my office, I slump down into my chair and lean forward with my head in my hands. Not only do I feel intense guilt, but I also have a wave of memories of my family crashing into my mind.

Their smiles, their laughter. They way my dad used to make the best pancakes. My mom’s perfume when she hugged me. How my sister used to try and steal my clothes even though none of them fit her and how she would follow me around telling me I was her best friend in the entire world. Their torn and shredded bodies covered in blood, barely recognizable.

I press my fingers to my temples, hurting myself, trying to push the memories away because the emotional pain of it is worse than the physical pain.

That man has to pay for what he’s done.

He has to suffer.

He has to feel what it’s like to have his heart torn from his body.

There is a knock at the door and Sasha leans in, looking a bit concerned.

“Um. Dinner is ready, if you are hungry.”

“Dinner? What’s the time?” I ask shocked.

“It’s almost eight. I waited a bit longer because I thought—I just wanted to wait for you.”

“But—" I glance at my watch. I’ve been sitting in my office for three hours thinking about what he did to my family. I can’t believe so much time went by and I didn’t even realize it.

“I’ll be right out,” I say with a tight smile. I’m still finding it very difficult to look her in the eyes after what I said about her. I’ll kill Sasha.

I shake my head and stand up. My legs are stiff and sore from sitting for so long.

Making my way downstairs to the dining room, I do my best to change the expression on my face and have an outwardly normal appearance. When I walk in, Sasha is seated and waiting for me. Our food is on the table, steaming and ready.

“Crumbed pork schnitzels with mushroom sauce, roast potatoes and creamed spinach,” she says as I sit down.

“Looks great,” I sigh.

“Did you have a long day? You look exhausted.”

“Yes. It was just a long day, that’s all. I had a lot of complicated things to deal with.” It’s not like I’m lying to her. What had been going on in my head was complicated.

Sasha is quiet for a little while, waiting for me to talk, but I don’t know what to say. So, eventually she tries her best to make conversation.

“I’m reading a new book. For once, it’s not a murder.” She laughs. “It’s about this team of people who travel the world saving sea life, like dolphins and sharks. I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much, but they really catch you emotionally with each rescue they do.”

“Mm.” I nod, chewing slowly. “Sounds interesting.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf.”

“Surf?” I ask, confused.

“You know, surf. Like on a board, on the waves.” She laughs again, but it sounds nervous. She can tell something's wrong with me.

“Oh, right. I’ve never been surfing, either. I’ve got a jet ski at my one holiday home in Hawaii, and I’ve been parachuting. Also, base jumping. My cousins and I were into some adrenaline sports when we were younger.”

“That’s incredible. I want to try all of those things. You know, now that I’m not ever going back to my father, I've been thinking about the things in life I missed out on that I want to try.”

“Your father,” I sigh.

She turns her head down towards her plate and pushes her food around with her fork.

Do I tell her he called today? All it will do is cause tension for her. Then I might have to tell her what the conversation was about, and I don’t want to go into all of that.

For now, I am going to keep it to myself. What does it have to do with her, anyway? It’s between her father and me.

We eat the rest of the meal in silence.

Then Sasha excuses herself, telling me she is going to bed early and will be reading, letting me know I’m encouraged to get an early night, too, because I look like I need one.

I watch her walking away and guilt eats at my insides.

I clench my jaw and drum my fingers on the table.

I am exhausted, but how will I be able to sleep with all these thoughts in my mind?

Memories haunting me, emotions dark and festering.

I stand up and walk over to the liquor cabinet, pouring a double whisky.

I drink is slowly, standing outside on the balcony watching the stars glittering in the dark sky. For a change, it's clear and not clouded and grey. The air is still biting with a cold chill.

When the drink is gone, I feel a little more at ease, and I climb the steps towards the bedroom.

Sasha is asleep with her book on her chest and the bedside light still on.

I flick the light off and gently take her book out of her hand, placing it on the bedside table.

I pull the blankets up over her chest and lean down to kiss her cheek, but then change my mind and turn away. After changing into something more comfortable for bed I climb beneath the covers, facing my back to her because I still feel horrible about what I said today.

I close my eyes, and to my surprise, I fall asleep easily. But it’s not the kind of sleep you want to fall into.

***

I am walking through the hallway of my old family home, calling out for my mother and father. It’s dark, but I can still see clearly.

“Mom? Dad?” I shout into the open space, and my voice echoes back towards me.

“Claire?” My sister isn’t answering either.

My knees are stained with mud from the soccer game I was playing with the guys. My jersey is muddy, too, and I came home looking forward to a hot shower and some hot dinner.

But the usual rich aromas that flow from the kitchen aren’t there, all the lights are off despite it getting darker, there isn’t any music coming from inside the house, and the TV isn’t blaring cartoons from my sister's room.

“Hello?” I call out again, but my voice is rich with tension and tight in my throat.

Something is wrong. I can feel it.

As I walk towards the family room, I can smell it.

Metal.

It’s in the air, stinging the back of my throat.

The metallic taste of iron is on my tongue. It tastes like blood. The air tastes like blood.

I step into the family room and freeze in horror. There is a monster leaning over my mother. He’s massive, dark, with long fangs. His teeth are tearing into her flesh, ripping her arm from her body. Blood is flowing like a fountain from the shredded remains of her arm. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

I want to run towards her and fight the monster off, but my feet are sunk in cement, and I can’t move. My sister is hanging from the wall. Her throat is cut, and her shoulders have massive knives sticking into them, pinning her against the wooden panels of the wall, like a piece of art.

A blood, tortured piece of art. Her face is twisted and distorted with pain. There are clean streaks down her cheeks where her tears washed away the blood on her skin. But she isn’t crying anymore.

Her eyes are empty sockets. Black holes.

My mother has stopped screaming. The monster is laughing. He fades in and out of existence because he’s not really here. This all happened before I got home. My feet are still buried in cement, and I fall forward when I try and take a step.

I fall onto my father’s body.

His eyes are open and staring at me. His mouth is stitched closed. His hands are on his chest. I grab his hand and call his name, and when his arm flops lifelessly to the side, my little sister's eye rolls from the palm of my father’s hand.

I scream loudly and toss and turn, fighting with the blanket which is tangled in my legs.

“Leo,” a gentle voice calls my name. “Leo, it’s okay. You’re at home. You’re safe.”

The gentle voice is still speaking. I blink into the darkness, and slowly the nightmare fades away, Sasha’s face filling my vision.

“Leo?” Her hand is on my cheek, stroking gently across my face.

“I’m okay,” I say breathlessly. “I’m okay,” I say again for self-assurance.

“What happened?”

“I had—I had a nightmare.”

“You were screaming and lashing out. You looked terrified.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Not at all. But I was really worried. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She leans against my chest, her soft, warm hands cupping my face. Her eyes are staring into mine, and even in the dark, the green of hers is pulling me in, soothing away the horrible visions.

She stares at me for a long time. Then her thumb brushes across my lips.

I take a sharp breath in.

She presses her mouth over mine and her lips move against me.

The nightmare drifts further away as she pulls her body on top of mine and rocks over me. I grab her ass in my hands, and she opens her legs, straddling me, kissing me deeper and more passionately.

I tug at the long t-shirt she was sleeping in, lifting it over her hips. She sits up and pulls my sweatpants down low enough to free my cock.

Then she returns to kissing me and lowers herself onto me.

My cock pushes into her pussy and I growl, low and deep.

Anger surges through me. I have no right to find comfort in her. I have to focus on the only thing that matters. My end goal, my plan that has taken years to put into action—my plan to ruin Danil’s life.

“Leo,” she whispers, pulling my thoughts back into the moment as she rocks gently over my cock. “Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

I do as she asks, and again, I feel myself being pulled into her.

“Stay here with me,” she whispers.

She takes my hands and places them over her breasts as her body arches against me.

Her eyes are locked with mine.

“Stay with me,” she whispers again, and I forget where else I was. Looking at her, listening to her soothing voice, all there is in this moment is her.

She touches my face and her lips part as she moans in pleasure.

I watch her face reacting and changing as she rides me. She is a beautiful distraction from what is going on in my head.