Chapter 22 - Alyssa
Running toward the man who tried to destroy me might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but hearing Diane’s terrified voice on that phone call left me with no choice.
My hands shake on the steering wheel as I speed through the industrial district, following Troy’s directions to some abandoned warehouse that probably hasn’t seen legitimate business in decades.
Every turn brings me closer to a confrontation I’ve been dreading for months, but Troy’s threats during our phone conversation left no room for negotiation.
He has Diane, and that means I have to play by his rules whether I want to or not.
The phone call replays in my mind as I drive—Troy’s cold voice explaining exactly how he acquired one of Maksim’s family members, followed by his detailed threats about what would happen if I didn’t come alone, and worst of all, the sound of Diane’s muffled crying in the background.
I wanted to tell Maksim, I really did, but Troy made it clear that this was my fault for choosing Maksim over him, and now an innocent woman was paying the price for my decisions. The guilt sits in my stomach like a lead weight, growing heavier with each mile.
I park outside the rusted metal structure and take a moment to steady my breathing. My heart pounds against my ribs like a caged bird, and I have to squeeze the steering wheel to stop my hands from trembling. After a few breaths, I step out of the car and convince my feet to move.
The warehouse door is slightly ajar, and I push it open to step into a cavernous space filled with empty shipping containers and the smell of rust and decay.
I move deeper into the building, searching for any sign of movement.
The silence feels oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of traffic and my own ragged breathing.
Each step forward feels like walking deeper into quicksand.
“Troy?” I call out, though my voice sounds smaller than I’d like in the vast space.
“Back here, baby.”
The pet name makes my skin crawl, and I clench my fists to stop myself from turning around and running back to my car. Everything inside me screams at me to flee, but Diane’s life hangs in the balance, so I follow his voice toward the rear of the building.
What I find there makes my stomach drop to my feet.
Diane is tied to a metal chair, and her face is streaked with tears, with a piece of duct tape across her mouth. Her hands are bound behind her back, and she looks at me with wide, frightened eyes that beg for help. The sight of her restrained and terrified sends rage burning through my veins.
Troy is standing behind her with one hand resting on her shoulder, and he’s wearing that same cold smile I remember from the night he pointed a gun at my chest. He looks completely at ease, like kidnapping innocent women is just another Tuesday afternoon activity for him.
“Let her go,” I demand through gritted teeth. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this, thanks to your poor choices.” His fingers close around Diane’s shoulder, and she flinches at the contact.
I move closer to Diane and kneel beside her chair, making sure she can see my face. The terror in her eyes breaks my heart, but I try to project confidence I don’t feel. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I promise nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Her eyes fill with fresh tears, but she nods like she believes me. I wish I felt as confident as I’m trying to sound. She tries to say something behind the duct tape, probably warning me about Troy or begging me to run, but I can’t make it out.
“Touching reunion,” Troy sneers, “but we have business to discuss.”
I stand and turn to face him, lifting my chin in what I hope looks like defiance rather than terror. My legs feel like they might give out at any moment, but I lock my knees and hold my ground. “What do you want?”
“I think you know what I want.” His eyes travel over me with the same possessive hunger they used to hold, and my stomach churns.
“Information about Maksim’s operations. I already told you I can’t give you that.”
Troy laughs, though the sound is devoid of any warmth or humor. “Information would be nice, but that’s not what I’m after anymore.”
“Then what?” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed under his predatory gaze.
“You, Alyssa. I want you back where you belong.”
The words hit me like ice water, and I have to work to keep my composure. My throat constricts as I process what he’s really saying. This isn’t about revenge or business rivalry—not really. This is about obsession. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You belong to me. You always have, ever since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you’ve forgotten that is something we’re going to remedy.”
I glance at Diane, who’s watching our conversation with growing alarm, then back at Troy. “Let her go first. Whatever this is between us, she doesn’t need to be involved.”
“She stays until we reach an understanding.” He crosses his arms over his chest, settling in like he has all the time in the world.
“What kind of understanding?”
“First, you’re going to acknowledge that running away was a mistake, and then you’re going to come home with me.”
I shiver at the way he says ‘home,’ like I’m some lost pet he’s been patiently waiting to reclaim.
“Troy, we broke up months ago. We’re not getting back together.” I try to inject firmness into my voice, but it comes out shaky.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He circles Diane’s chair like a predator stalking prey. “You see, I’ve had time to think about what went wrong between us, and I’ve realized the problem wasn’t us; it was everyone else filling your head with lies.”
“What lies?” I watch him pace, trying to anticipate his next move while keeping myself positioned between him and the exit.
“Lies about independence, about not needing a man to take care of you, and having choices. You were happy with me before other people started poisoning your mind against me.”
The revisionist history he’s spinning makes me want to scream, but getting emotional won’t help Diane, and it definitely won’t help me. My fingernails dig crescents into my palms as I struggle to maintain control.
“You were safe,” he continues. “Protected. Cherished. And you threw it all away for what? Some Russian criminal who’s just using you for entertainment?”
“Maksim isn’t using me.” The defense springs from my lips automatically, even though I know arguing with Troy is pointless.
“How long do you think his interest will last once he gets bored? Men like him don’t settle down with women like you.” He stops pacing and fixes me with a stare that’s meant to make me feel small and worthless.
The cruel assessment stings more than I want to admit, partly because some small part of me has wondered the same thing. The doubt Troy is trying to plant finds fertile ground in my existing insecurities about fitting into Maksim’s world.
“Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything between us.”
“When he inevitably discards you, you’ll need someone to pick up the pieces. Someone who genuinely cares about your well-being.”
I gawk at him in disbelief, and my mouth falls open at his audacity. “You think kidnapping his cousin is caring about my wellbeing?”
“I think doing whatever it takes to get your attention is necessary when you refuse to see reason.”
Behind him, Diane makes a muffled sound of distress, and fresh tears stream down her face. This sweet woman who welcomed me into her family with open arms is suffering because of me, and the guilt threatens to crush me.
“Okay,” I relent, trying a different approach. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I made a mistake by leaving you. Don’t you think holding an innocent woman hostage is a strange way to win me back?”
“Nothing about this situation is innocent. She’s connected to the people who stole you from me.” His face hardens as he mentions Maksim’s family, and I can see the depth of his resentment in his eyes.
“Nobody stole me. I left because you scared me.”
“I never laid a hand on you,” he protests, like emotional abuse doesn’t count. His voice takes on that wounded tone he used to use whenever I tried to discuss his controlling behavior in the past.
“You pointed a gun at me,” I seethe.
“I was protecting us both from making a mistake we’d regret.”
This is the man I once thought I loved, and I can’t understand how I was so blind to his true nature. My younger self seems like a stranger now, someone naive enough to mistake possessiveness for devotion, but I’ll never make that mistake again.
“Let Diane go, and I’ll listen to whatever you want to say.”
“Nice try, but she stays until we reach an agreement.” He glances at Diane, and just his looking at her makes her flinch.
My throat feels dry as dust, but I force the next words out. “What kind of agreement?”
“You come back to me willingly, and everyone stays safe. You continue this charade with Barkov, and people start getting hurt.”
“Define ‘come back to you.’” I need to understand exactly what I’m agreeing to, even though every option feels like stepping into quicksand.
“Move into my apartment. Cut off contact with the Russians. Be my woman again, the way you were meant to be, only now, I won’t have to keep such a massive part of my life away from you. You know about my world now, so it’ll be even better than before.”
The thought of living with him, of pretending to be happy while he controls every aspect of my life, makes bile rise in my throat. But looking at Diane’s terrified face reminds me that this isn’t just about me anymore. The lives of people I care about hang in the balance.
“And if I agree to this, you’ll leave Maksim’s family alone?”
“As long as they don’t interfere with our relationship, they’ll be perfectly safe.”
I search his face, looking for any sign that he might be lying, but he seems genuine. In his twisted mind, this really is about winning me back rather than destroying Maksim’s operations.
“I need guarantees,” I tell him, stalling for time while I try to think of a way out of this mess.
“You’re hardly in a position to make demands,” he points out with a chuckle.
“Diane’s life is the only leverage you have. Once you let her go, what’s to stop me from running straight back to Maksim?”
“If you do, I’ll kill everyone you’ve grown to care about, starting with those adorable triplets.”
The mention of Aleksei’s children makes my blood run cold. My hands start to shake as I picture Sofia, Marco, and little Anya in danger because of me. The thought of anything happening to those innocent babies because of my choices is unbearable.
“You wouldn’t hurt children.” The words come out strangled, barely audible above the rushing in my ears.
“I wouldn’t want to. But if you force my hand…” He lets the threat hang in the silence between us, but I can see he’s deadly serious.
The message is clear: comply, or watch innocent people suffer the consequences. I’m truly trapped.
I look at Diane again, taking in her obvious terror and the way she’s watching me like I’m her only hope of survival. Then I think about those beautiful children who call me Aunt Alyssa, about the family that welcomed me, about the life I’ve built in Maksim’s world.
All of it will be destroyed if I don’t find a way to end this threat.
“Okay,” I hear myself saying. “You win.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll come back to you. But only if you release Diane first.”
Troy studies my face, clearly trying to determine if I’m telling the truth or just buying time. His gaze probes mine, searching for deception. “You’re not exactly known for keeping your word these days.”
“I kept my word for three months when we were together. I only left when I discovered you were lying to me about who you really were.”
“And now you know the truth. No more secrets between us.”
“No more secrets,” I agree, though every syllable feels like a betrayal of everything I’ve built with Maksim.
“Swear it. Swear that you’ll come back to me willingly, and I’ll let the artist go.”
I take a deep breath and put every ounce of false sincerity I can muster into my voice. “I swear I’ll come back to you willingly if you release Diane unharmed.”
“And you’ll cut ties with Barkov?”
“I’ll cut ties with Maksim.”
“And his family?”
“And his family.” Each word feels like I’m signing my own death warrant, but Diane’s safety depends on my performance.
Troy’s smile widens like a child who’s just been promised his favorite candy. “See? That wasn’t so hard. We always did work well together when you weren’t being stubborn.”
He moves behind Diane’s chair and begins working on the ropes that bind her hands. My heart pounds as I watch him untie the knots, praying he’ll actually follow through on his promise. The moment she’s free, she yanks the tape from her mouth and scrambles away from him.
“Alyssa, don’t do this,” she pleads. “Maksim and the others can protect us. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself.”
“Yes, she does,” Troy interjects before I can respond. “Unless she wants to watch everyone she cares about disappear one by one.”
“Go,” I tell Diane as I jerk my head toward the exit. “Don’t stop, don’t look back, just go.”
“I can’t leave you here with him.” Tears stream down her face as she looks between Troy and me, clearly torn between her own safety and mine.
“You can and you will. This is my choice to make.”
Diane looks like she wants to argue, but something in my tone must convince her that debate is pointless. She gives me one last anguished look before rushing toward the warehouse exit.
“Smart girl,” Troy comments once we’re alone. “She knows when she’s beaten.”
“Let her get home safely before we continue this conversation.” I need time to prepare myself for whatever comes next, time to build the emotional walls I’ll need to survive what I’ve just agreed to. I swallow the revulsion rising in my throat and make myself meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”
Troy’s entire demeanor changes in that instant. The cold predator disappears, replaced by something that might almost look like affection if you didn’t know better.
“I’ve missed you, too, baby. More than you know.” His voice takes on that honeyed quality I remember from our early days together, before the mask slipped and I saw what he really was.
He moves closer, and I resist the urge to step back.
If I’m going to sell this performance, I need to act like I want his attention.
Troy slides his down to my arm, and his fingers close around my wrist with just enough pressure to remind me that, despite his gentle words, this isn’t really a choice.
The grip feels like a shackle, binding me to a future I never wanted.
“Come on then,” he says, already guiding me toward the warehouse exit. “Let’s go home.”