CHAPTER 41
IRIS
The apartment is still dark when I wake up, the city outside just beginning to stir with the distant sound of traffic, the early morning trams rumbling past. I pack quickly, throwing clothes into a small bag along with my passport, some cash my father sent me, leaving everything else behind.
My hands shake while I zip up the bag. I walk down the street as the sun starts to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, the morning air cold enough to bite at my face, my breath coming out in small white clouds.
The city is still mostly asleep, only a few people out walking dogs or heading to early shifts.
I turn the corner onto the street where my father said the car would be waiting, my eyes scanning until I spot it.
A black sedan sits at the curb with its engine running, the exhaust puffing white into the cold air.
I walk toward it, opening the back door, sliding inside with my bag on my lap. “Good morning, ma’am,” the driver says without turning around.
“Good morning,” I reply. He starts driving, pulling away from the curb, navigating through the empty morning streets.
I watch the buildings pass by outside my window, the familiar streets of Solingen giving way to the outskirts where the buildings become more spread out, the trees becoming more frequent.
The driver takes a turn onto a smaller road, heading away from the main highway, the buildings and landscape opening up into fields.
I lean forward slightly, trying to see where we are, then I see a sign pointing away from the airport.
We’re going away from the airport. “That’s not the way to the airport,” I tell him.
The driver doesn’t respond, just keeps driving with his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“I’m talking to you,” I say louder, leaning forward in my seat. “We’re going the wrong direction.”
Still nothing. “Are you deaf or something? Can’t you respond to me?”
“Ma’am, please,” he says finally. “Just calm down.”
“Calm down?” I nearly shout. “How do you expect me to calm down when you’re going in a direction away from the airport? Turn this car around or stop the car right now so I can get out.”
“Ma’am, I can’t do that,” he says. “Why can’t you do that?” I demand. He doesn’t answer, instead he starts speeding up, the car accelerating until the fields outside become a blur. “Stop the car!” I yell. “Stop the car right now!”
I grab my phone, my hands shaking so badly I can barely unlock it, I pull up my father’s number, press call.
It rings. Then a robotic voice cuts through.
The number you have dialed is not reachable.
I try again. Same message. I try Roman, then Kirill, then anyone in my contacts who might answer.
Nothing. We pass another intersection and I see through the windshield ahead.
Three expensive cars parked in a line on the side of the road, black Mercedes or BMWs with tinted windows.
The driver pulls up behind them, bringing our car to a stop, and cuts the engine. I hear the locks click and my panic spikes. “Let me out!” I scream, throwing myself at the door, pulling the handle frantically. “Let me out right now!” The driver turns in his seat. “Ma’am, please—”
I don’t let him finish, launching myself at him over the center console, my nails finding his face, his neck, his arms. “Let me out! Let me out!” He tries to restrain me gently, catching my wrists, holding them away from his face. I pull his hair, scratch at his neck, kick at his seat.
Then the door opens behind me. And cold air rushes in, freezing my assault. A head pokes inside the car, smiling at me.
Ilay. “Well,” he says. “Still got that fire in you, I see. I was worried you might’ve gone soft on me, angel.” I scoot backward across the seat, pressing myself against the opposite door. He slides into the car, closes the door behind him. “Get out,” he says to the driver without looking at him.
“Yes, sir,” the driver responds quickly, scrambling out of the car. Ilay turns to face me fully. “I’ve missed you, my love” he says softly. “Did you miss me?” I can’t breathe. “I don’t know,” I whisper. He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?” I swallow hard. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth?” he suggests, leaning back against the seat. “The truth?” I repeat. “The truth is you threatened me, you said you’d drag me back to Russia, you said you’d chain me to your bed, you killed your therapist, what am I supposed to say to that?”
He smiles. “You could say, I missed you so much baby and kiss me passionately.”
“You got many screws loose,” I breathe. “Maybe,” he agrees easily.
“But you didn’t seem to mind this screw-loose bastard drilling you three months ago, did you?
Go ahead, princess tell me how many times those fingers of yours slipped inside that tight little pussy these past few months, chasing what only I can give you.
I Bet you still clench around nothing every time you remember how deep I was in you.
I press myself harder against the door. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home,” he says simply. “To Russia?”
“Eventually.”
“No,” I shake my head frantically. “No, I’m not going back there, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You don’t have a choice, angel,” he says.
“Yes, I do,” I snap. “I have a choice, I always have a choice.” He leans forward then, his eyes locking onto mine.
“Do you?” The question hangs in the air between us.
“Because from where I’m sitting,” he continues, “you got in this car willingly, you trusted your father to keep you safe, look where that got you.” My breath catches. “What did you do?”
“Nothing permanent,” he says. “I just made sure the right driver picked you up, and dear old daddy thinks you’re on your way to America right now, safe and sound.”
“You…” My voice trails off. “I outsmarted him,” he says. “Yes, I did, I’m very good at what I do, Iris, what I do is win.” I stare at him, trying to find a way out of this, any way out. “Are you scared?” he ask. “I can see it, your hands are shaking, your breathing is uneven, you’re terrified.”
“Of course I’m terrified,” I say. “You threatened to do horrible things, you killed someone, how am I supposed to feel?”
“Tell me specifically what I threatened,” he says, leaning closer. “Tell me exactly what has you so scared, I don’t remember ever threatening to murder you angel.”
“You said you’d…” I start, then stop. “I said I’d what, spit it out baby?” he presses. “That I’d make you mine? That I’d fuck you until you remember who you belong to? That I’d put a baby in you so you can never leave me again?”
I flinch at the words. His smile widens. “You’re scared of how much you want it.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper. “Isn’t it?” he asks. “Deep down, you want me to take the choice away from you, you want me to make the decision so you don’t have to feel guilty about wanting me back, about loving me.”
“You don’t know what I want,” I say. “Don’t I?
” he asks, reaching out slowly, his hand cupping my face.
“Look at me, Iris, really look at me.” I do look at him, I can’t help it.
He looks the same, the face I’ve seen in my dreams every night since I left, the hands I know could kill me or worship me with equal intensity, the eyes that strip away every defense I try to build.
But there’s something else there now, it’s desperate and broken.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much it’s killing me, every day without you is torture, every night I wake up reaching for you, you’re not there, I can’t eat properly, can’t sleep more than a few hours, can’t think about anything except getting you back, I know I’m not supposed to say that, I know it makes me sound weak, but I don’t care anymore, I’m done pretending I can live without you.
” My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall.
“You gave my family one year to surrender everything,” I say.
“You said you’d never stop targeting them, you said you couldn’t forgive them, you made me choose between you and everyone I love, what was I supposed to do with that? ”
“I was trying to compromise,” he says. “I could have killed them all immediately, I wanted to kill them, I still want to kill them every single day, but I gave them time for you, that was me trying, Iris, that was me being better.”
“That’s not compromise,” I say. “Compromise would be leaving them alone completely, not threatening them, not giving them ultimatums, just letting them exist.”
“Your family are not innocent in this,” he says coldly. “You still want me to forget and forgive, that’s not something somebody can get back from.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive,” I say, tears spilling over. “I’m asking you to choose me.”
“It’s not that simple,” he says. “It is that simple,” I counter.
“You just don’t want it to be.” He groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Why do you even care about them in the first place? You don’t know these people, Iris, you barely know them, how many weeks did you get to know them?
But you know me, you know I would take a bullet for you, I’ve killed for you, I’ve bled for you, so why are you so hell bent on protecting them?
Why are you making me the villain when they started this? ”
“Even if I don’t know them well, even if what they did was wrong, I don’t support killing when I can stop it,” I respond. “You claim you love me, you say you’d do anything for me, but it’s not showing in your actions.”
“Not showing?” he repeats, his voice dangerous. “How is that not showing?”
“Because you’re still threatening them,” I tell him. “You gave them a year but you’re counting down the days until you can kill them, that’s not love, that’s delayed revenge.”
“What do you want from me?” he asks, his voice breaking. “You want me to forget what they did? I can’t do that, Iris, it’s not in me.”
“I want you to want me more than you want revenge,” I whisper. “I want you to love me enough to let it go, not for them, for me, for us.”
“And if I can’t?” he asks quietly. “If revenge is too deep in me, what then?”
“Then we can’t be together,” I answer. “Then this is impossible, then we’re stuck here, you choosing your past, me choosing no one, neither of us willing to bend.”
We stare at each other. “I can’t go with you,” I whisper. “We’re toxic for each other, we destroy everything we touch, this isn’t love, this is obsession.” His jaw tightens. “It’s both, it’s love and obsession, I don’t care which one it is as long as you’re mine.”
“But that’s exactly the problem,” I say. “You don’t see me as a person, you see me as something to own, to possess.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “Isn’t it? You threatened to chain me to your bed, to force me to have your children, how is that love?”
“Because I would rather have you hate me and be with me than love me and be apart,” he says.
“I would rather have you screaming at me every day for the rest of our lives than live one more day without you, that’s how messed up I am, Iris, I’m not ashamed of it.
” I stare at him, tears streaming down my face.
“We can’t do this,” I whisper. “We’ll destroy each other. ”
“Then we’ll burn together,” he says simply. “I don’t care, as long as we’re together.”
“Ilay—”
“No,” he says firmly. “No more running, no more hiding, you love me, I know you do, I can see it in your eyes right now, you love me just as much as I love you, everything else is just noise.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say desperately. “It is that simple, everything else is just fear talking.” I shake my head. “I can’t go with you, it would be wrong for both of us.” His expression hardens. “Then you’re coming unwillingly, but either way, you’re coming with me.”
“No,” I say. “I’m not.” I reach for the door handle, but he’s faster, his hand shooting out, grabbing my wrist. “My love, don’t,” he warns. “Let me go,” I say, trying to pull away. “I can’t do that.”
“Let me go!” I scream, and I start fighting him again, clawing, kicking, trying to break free. He grabs both my wrists with one hand, holds them above my head. “I’m sorry, angel,” he says. “But I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you?” I spit. “You’re kidnapping me!”
“I know,” he says softly. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but right now, I need you to sleep.” He pulls out a cloth and I panic. “No, no, please—”
“Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s okay, just breathe.”
“Ilay, please,” I beg. “Please don’t—”
“I love you,” he says, and then he presses the cloth over my nose and mouth.
I try to hold my breath, but I can’t, my lungs burn, eventually and I have to inhale.
The world starts to blur. His face swims in and out of focus.
“I’m sorry,” I hear him say, his voice distant.
“I’m so sorry, my angel.” And then everything goes black.