CHAPTER 27
IRIS
When I open my eyes, my body feels like a ruin of what it used to be.
My face throbs with a dull, persistent ache, my ribs protest every shallow breath I take, and my head feels stuffed with cotton, leaving me disoriented in a room of stark, unfamiliar white.
I blink slowly, focusing on the white, unfamiliar ceiling positioned directly above me.
This location is neither my apartment nor is it the residence of Ilay.
A sudden wave of panic commences within my chest. I question my current location.
I emit a soft groan, attempting to sit upright, but a sharp pain shoots through my entire body, compelling me to return to the prone position. I wince, delicately touching my cheek. It is noticeably swollen and sore.
I’m lying there groaning when I hear movement across the room. A woman appears beside the bed. She looks late middle age, with kind eyes and soft features. She’s been arranging flowers on the side table.
“Miss,” she says gently. “You’re awake. Thank God. The masters will be so happy to know you’re awake.”
Masters?
I frown, confusion clouding my thoughts. “Masters?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“Yes, miss. Your father and your brothers. They’ve been so worried about you. Waiting for you to wake up. I’ll go get them right now.”
“No,” I say quickly, sharper than I meant. “Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell anyone I’m awake.”
She hesitates, wringing her hands. “Miss, I have to. It’s my job. They’ve been so worried about you.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I say again, my voice cracking. “Just leave me alone. Please. My head hurts too much.”
She looks torn but nods. “As you wish, miss.”
She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to process what she just said. My father. My brothers. I don’t understand what’s happening.
After a few minutes, I decide I can’t just lie here. I need to move.
I push the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My body fights me, every muscle screaming, but I force myself to stand. I need to get to the bathroom.
One step. Two steps. Then my legs give out completely.
I groan, trying to push myself up, but I am too weak. Then, the door opens, and the air immediately thickens.
Roman and Kirill. The sight of them sends a lightning bolt of sheer terror through me.
I scramble back, reaching blindly for nightstand where a vase of flowers sits. I grab it, knocking the flowers to the floor, and hold it up, a shaky defense.
“Don’t come any closer!” I shout, my voice shaking. “I swear to God, if you come near me, I’ll hurt you.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Roman says, raising his hands immediately. “Okay. Calm down. We’re not here to hurt you.”
“Stay back!” I yell, gripping the vase tighter. Kirill steps forward slightly, raising his two hands up. “Iris, listen to me.”
“I said stay back!” I scream.
Roman glances at Kirill, then back at me. “Okay. Okay. We’re leaving. We’ll leave, all right? Just put the vase down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Leave,” I say, choking on the words. “Just go.” Roman nods slowly. “Okay. We’re going. But if you need anything, just call out. We’ll be right outside.”
They both back toward the door, with their hands still raised, then step out into the hall. The door closes behind them. I sit on the floor, clutching the vase, my whole body shaking. I don’t understand what’s happening.
A few minutes pass, then the door opens again.
The older maid comes back in, smiling at me.
“Miss,” she says softly. “Let me help you.” She helps me up gently, supporting me as we move to the bathroom.
She helps me wash, careful not to touch the bruises or the bandages.
I’m too tired to stand on my own, so I let her guide me through it.
After I’m clean, she helps me back into bed, tucking the blanket around me and reattaching the IV to my arm.
“Rest now, miss,” she says gently. “You need your strength.”
She’s about to leave when there’s a soft knock at the door. A tall, distinguished man steps in. Silver-haired, with kind, weary eyes. He moves cautiously, sitting beside the bed as if approaching a skittish animal. My heart is a frantic bird in my chest.
Then he asks, “How are you feeling?” I offer no reply, caught between rage, fear, and confusion. He glances over his shoulder at the maid. “Did she talk when she woke up?” The maid nods, wringing her hands a little. “Yes, sir. But not much. Just a few words.”
He turns back to me, asking gently, “Does your cheek still hurt?” I swallow and answer, my voice coming out hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts, but I’ll be fine.” He nods, looking relieved. “Good.”
I know it isn’t. Nothing about this is. I look at him, at a man whose eyes are too familiar, too soft for someone I should hate. “Who are you?” I ask, even though part of me already knows.
He sighs heavily, then quietly, with warmth in his tone, he says, “I’m your father.”
“Oh.” I say plainly. He laughs awkwardly, almost embarrassed. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I suspected you were alive, that’s why I came to Russia in the first place. To find you. Now that I have, I need to talk to you. About my mother’s last request. Her last words.”
His expression sobers immediately. “Of course. But first, you need to recover fully. You’ve been through a lot. You were stressed and hurt yesterday, and that’s on me. I’m sorry for what my security did. They’ve been dealt with.”
“I don’t care how you punish your men,” I cut in, steeling my voice. “Mafia men are all the same. I don’t want anything to do with any of you.”
I look away, the pain in my cheek getting worse as I clench my jaw. “So I’ll talk to you tomorrow. When I’m strong enough. Right now, I just want to be left alone.”
He nods, his voice coming out in tumbles. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you while you’re still recovering. Please, rest.”
He stands, glances at the maid and nods, then turns to leave. He walks out, closing the door behind him.
After he’s gone, my thoughts are a tangled mess, too many emotions pulling at me from different directions.
Exhaustion wins.
Sleep takes me, but it’s not peaceful. I dream of restless, strange things.
I’m running. Fast, desperate. I don’t know what I’m running from.
I just feel fear. It grips me tight, like a hand around my throat.
Then Ilay appears. He doesn’t come to save me.
He comes like he wants to swallow me whole.
His eyes are empty. Hungry, dark, and distant.
Just as he reaches for me, I jolt awake.
My heart’s racing as I wake up soaked in sweat, my chest rising and falling like I’ve just run a marathon. I push the covers off and force myself to the window, gripping the frame while I stare out at the unfamiliar estate bathed in moonlight.
It looks like the place my mother used to describe when she told stories about her time in Russia. She always said she liked it, that she enjoyed the work, until things changed. I know what she meant.
She didn’t make a mistake. Her only mistake was loving the wrong person. That one choice changed everything.
Tomorrow, I’ll say what needs to be said. I’ll tell him about my mother’s last request, her last words. Then I’ll leave. I’ll go back to Germany. I’ll leave Ilay behind. I’ll leave all of this behind.
I don’t belong in this world. This isn’t my life. It never was.
“I just need to live for myself,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
But another thought creeps in, it’s thoughts of a man I shouldn’t want. Ilay, I wonder if he’s alive. Will he really survive like my brothers said. I begin to hope and pray silently, If he is, that’s good. Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance for us.
Then I shake my head, frowning. “What am I even saying?”
Do I really want this? To live like this?
Always looking over my shoulder? Do I love him that much?
Does he even deserve it? I drown out that last thought out of my mind.
What am I even saying? Of course he deserves my love, this man took a billet for me, I’ll be selfish to not even give him a chance.
I mouth one more prayer for his safety then head back to my bed. Once my head hit the pillow, I’m lured into a dreamless sleep.