Embracing the Dark Side (Morozov Mafia #2)

23. Future

Chapter twenty-three

Future

Like a piece of cargo, Jolie and Helina were transferred to Vincent’s home in the country. Jolie tried to memorize the drive here, but after two hours, she doubted she could ever return home if she managed to run away. The property was massive, with nearly a mile-long driveway that led to a one-story, ancient-looking house, covered in moss and algae, and there were dozens of soldiers walking through the grass and trees. The place was a fortress and Jolie's hope for escape dwindled.

Now, here she was, too afraid to sleep, even as her eyes drifted shut.

Jolie sat on a lumpy mattress with musky cotton bedsheets in a foreign house. She could hear everything—every footstep that walked in the hallway, every door that opened or shut. In the last twenty-four hours, dozens of people flowed in and out of the house, no matter the time of day. They listened to Spanish music in the morning, afternoon, and night, a constant beat that never changed.

Jolie glanced over her shoulder. Helina had dried tears on her face. Esfir and a dozen other servants had been brought to the compound with them, but as they were taken out of the vehicle, Esfir was taken somewhere else, and Helina screamed for her for nearly an hour. Now she hugged a new stuffed animal. Vincent’s stepmother had greeted them at the door like they were guests instead of prisoners. She had given them a box of clothes and toiletries.

Jolie didn’t know what she would do, but doing nothing was not an option. Adrik was trying to reach her. She had to, at the very least, stretch out her hand. If his men were waiting somewhere down the road, then Jolie had to get to them. She had already checked the window, but it was screwed shut. Escaping would be tricky but not impossible.

In the morning, a tray of food was brought, and they were allowed to use a bathroom down the hall, but afterward, no one came till dinner, bringing in another tray and allowing them to use the bathroom again. She asked to speak to Vincent. She fought when shoved back into her room. They slept with the lights and the TV on, and Jolie held a fork she'd stolen from a lunch tray. There was no peace, no way to relax. Every noise triggered a flight response, leaving Jolie panting and near tears.

This isn't sustainable. Jolie was overwhelmed with fear, a constantly weight on her chest that made breathing difficult. Vincent's going to break me. Jolie never understood such a phase until this moment. Pieces of herself were flaking off. The weakest parts of her were disintegrating.

Another day went by.

And then another.

Entertaining Helina was more challenging without the giant space of three rooms, the cats, all her toys, and school supplies. They were left in a standard ten-by-ten room with a bunk bed and a TV. The sunlight came through one window—their only comfort that this wasn’t a prison, despite the lock on the door. Thankfully, Jolie found markers and paper in the donated box, and they've been drawing for the last four hours. The papers decorated the floor, and for a few moments, their imagination transformed their dungeon into a field of flowers. Helina was their sun, and warmth enveloped the room for the first time. Jolie could almost feel it heal her.

A soldier entered, and Jolie popped to her feet. He waved them out with a rifle in his hands, speaking Spanish. Jolie repositioned the fork under her pillow, deciding to leave it behind before she took hold of Helina’s shoulders and directed her down the hall. They walked on maroon carpets through a hallway of wooden panels and popcorn ceilings. There was a mixed smell of chicken and rice, Fabuloso cleaner, and cigarettes. Vincent’s trailer used to smell like this. Jolie’s mother would always know when she had been to visit him because she’d be able to smell it in her hair.

They passed a surveillance room. It was wall-to-wall of TV screens, and three men lounged at the desk, playing a card game. The next room they passed was an expansive family room with two L-shaped couches. Children ran around, playing with toys on the floor, playing ping-pong, or watching TV. A few women sat, crocheting or sewing. They glanced toward her when she passed, but not one gave her more than a second look.

Knowing so many people knew she was here and not one cared that she was being kept against her will unnerved Jolie. She had always given people the benefit of the doubt, hoping they would do good if given the chance. And even now, she made excuses for them. Perhaps they were prisoners, too. Maybe they were forced into this life. Maybe they knew they couldn’t help.

But that’s not true, isn’t it?

The main entrance was in the center of the house. Thanksgiving decorations were hung: a turkey banner against the wall by an ancient fireplace and fall leaves of garland around the mantel. An ache burned in her belly, knowing she and her mother would have been making pumpkin cookies this time of year and fighting about when it was considered too early to put up Christmas lights. Jolie missed her mother to the point of nausea. She wished they weren’t fighting. Heather would have been more active in searching for her if there hadn’t been this gap between them.

The main living area was meant for guests, completely free of clutter, and the only part of the house that felt fresh and new, but it was still out of time, twenty years behind the rest of modern society. Perhaps that was why it was such a shock when Katia stood up as if she took a time machine, dressed in all the riches of the future, to stand here in a dilapidated house—entirely out of place.

“Mama!” Helina squealed, throwing herself into Katia’s waiting arms. Katia nearly fell over, falling to her knees as she cried into her daughter’s shoulder.

Jolie felt the world cave. She stumbled back, a hand on the wall to hold herself up. Seeing Helina in Katia’s arms was like witnessing a murder. It filled her with the same kind of disgust and dread. For six weeks, Jolie had cared for Helina as if she were her own daughter, and now what? Jolie had no rights to the little girl. She was nothing more than a babysitter.

From over Helina’s shoulder, Katia met her gaze. The tears seemed real enough, and there was even a soft smile on her painted red lips, as if in gratitude, but Jolie recoiled. She looked to Vincent for a reason for this visit. He wore a black-on-black suit and buttoned his jacket as he stood. “I believe dinner is almost ready.” He gestured to the older man with graying hair. “Mr. Stephanov, if you’d like to have drinks on the deck, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Katia picked up Helina, holding her close and whispering sweet words in Russian. Helina had been so eager to have someone understand her that her mouth didn’t stop. They walked into the backyard, completely enraptured with each other.

The loneliness was instant, and tears were already burning. Jolie stepped back, ready to escape.

“JoJo,” Vincent called from the doorway. “Come.”

She shook her head, knitted brows full of silent begging. She didn’t want Katia to have any chance of trying to reconcile. There was nothing she could say to fix it. Katia tried to kill Helina. There’s no forgiveness for something like that.

Vincent darkened his brow. “Now.”

Defiance sparked into her. With Katia here, Jolie wanted to show the woman how much she’s changed in nearly two months since being kidnapped. And one of those was through rage. Jolie spun on her foot, pounding down the hall. She slammed her door shut and was about to lock it when Vincent burst through. She stumbled back, yelling, “Get out!”

Vincent shut the door behind him and faced her. He walked on Helina's artwork, and it crunched beneath his feet. “Let me fill you in on what’s gonna happen. You are gonna go out there and pretend to be my obedient slave. You are gonna show them that I know how to control a bitch like you. You say nothing but ‘yes, sir.’ Because I’m not gonna have you screw this up for me.”

Jolie scoffed, laughing. “I’m not doing anything.” She reached down, picking up each drawing. "I'm not your puppet. Don't you see how ridiculous you sound?"

Vincent moved too fast, ripping the papers out of her hands to grip her wrists. He held her tight, painfully so, till she struggled to withhold her cry. “Let’s try this again. After Helina leaves today with her mother, your purpose here will have to change.”

Jolie stiffened. Her glasses were crooked on her nose, but she flicked her eyes over his face with wild panic. “No, no, you can’t. She tried to kill her! She’ll kill her.”

Vincent shook her to quiet her and then spun Jolie around, clamping a hand on her mouth while his arm held her across the chest, keeping her hands pinned hard to her sides. His strength was uncanny and impossible to escape from. “You don’t see it, JoJo. It’s not her you need to worry about.” Vincent leaned into her ear. “It’s yourself.”

He shoved her onto the bed, and she scrambled to get away. Jolie felt for the fork under her pillow, and when her fingers slipped around, she strengthened. “Adrik’s gonna kill you.”

His brows knitted. “You want me dead, JoJo? Huh?”

She squeezed her lips shut. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. It was a terrible thought that kept repeating in her head, and to declare such a threat was unlike her. Because it wasn’t empty, and they both knew Adrik could do something like that.

“My whole family hates you, JoJo. They want you dead. I’m all you got here, mami. I’m it. Your fucking boyfriend ain’t coming—”

“Yes, he is. ”

Vincent took a step back like he’d been hit. She finally admitted the truth, forming it like a knife and stabbing him in the gut with it. He realized then why she was holding on so tightly to that asshole. She truly believed Adrik was coming for her. “Did I tell you I called him?” The eagerness in her eyes ignited with hope, and he ground his teeth at such a look. “And I got to ask—were you working for the FBI?” The way her excitement turned to fear was a victory. But it didn’t really feel like one. “Because he seemed to think so.”

Jolie blinked, and a tear fell off her cheek. She had been waiting for this, the final moment when Vincent pushed her off the ledge. She hit the concrete and only sank further. Bits and pieces of her burned up. The rest were chewed apart by dogs. She was dead inside.

“Wow, JoJo.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “Guess time doesn’t change that much.” He was relieved he hadn’t been the only sap to trust her. For years, he thought it was his dick that got him in trouble, but maybe Jolie was just that kind of girl. “If Adrik does come, it'll be to kill you. It's over—whatever the hell was going on between you." The tears that spilt down her face enraged him. "I don’t get you, JoJo. You care about this family, these fucked-up Russians that live to destroy lives. They’re evil. Worse than me. Your boy Adrik has done things I can’t even imagine. So why the fuck are you risking yourself for them? For dick? Are you really that stupid? Because I can’t wrap my head around this. I know you, Jolie. I know what kind of person you are. Why are you destroying yourself to be with him?”

Vincent couldn’t take it. This Jolie that was standing in front of him was so different from the one that was in memories. She used to get on him for littering, and now she’s fucking a murderer. Did she see how much she’s changed?

When Jolie remained silent, Vincent pushed forward. “Helina’s gonna go with her mother—”

“No—”

“And you’re gonna tutor the kids here. You can tutor my kid and love him like you love Helina. You’ll get along just fine without her.”

Jolie stared blankly, hearing nothing. The numbness was suffocating. Without Helina, Adrik wouldn’t be coming. He’d never forgive her. He’d leave her to rot. Her gaze lingered on the drawings and all those thoughts before on what life would be like if Helina wasn't here now surfaced. She wasn't going to make it out alive. Flowers die without sunlight and Helina was her sun.

“Can you tell me something? What’s the difference between me and him? I’ve been good to you, and you still—” Vincent shook his head before he approached, sitting beside her with his elbows on his knees.

Jolie curled her legs into her chest, skeptically observing, trying to find the angle he was going for now. Everything familiar about him was shrouded. He was the reason her life was in shambles. He stole everything wonderful from her. And now she sat here, barely alive, and he wanted what? Affection? Sympathy? He was looking for it in the wrong place.

“Why am I a monster, and he isn’t? He and I are the same. He’s a little older, a little richer. But that’s not it. I know you, and that ain’t it. If I had never gone to prison, it would have been me and you, JoJo.” He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, holding it.

Jolie just watched him. She might have fought or pulled away if she could formulate any emotion. But it didn’t matter, did it? This was her future—life with Vincent, without a choice.

“I’m gonna take some time off after this. And me and you are gonna figure this out. Okay? You will see you haven’t stopped loving me, you just forgot.”

Vincent’s words were beginning to filter. ‘Love’ echoed in Jolie's head, and for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom what he was talking about. She had no feelings left for him. How could he think there was? The delusion almost ignited a panic, but there was a decision forming in her head. She was going to get out-alive or dead-it didn’t matter.

Vincent waited for her to say something. He couldn’t go back to that dumb eighteen-year-old kid. But he hoped she’d see something in him worth fighting for. “Katia and I are about to be engaged, but it’s just a formality. We’ll figure it out. We can get back what we lost. I know we can. Get dressed. Let’s get this over with.”