CHAPTER 48
IRIS
The grave is shallow. Ilay's men haven't bothered digging any deeper than necessary because to them, Viktor is just another problem they had to dispose of, another mess to clean up before returning to whatever it is they do when they're not following their psychotic boss around.
The grave is shallow. Ilay's men haven't bothered digging any deeper than necessary because to them, Viktor is just another problem they had to dispose of, another mess to clean up before returning to whatever it is they do when they're not following their psychotic boss around.
I stand at the edge of the hole, watching as they lower his body into the dirt.
They wrapped him in a sheet, at least, sparing me from having to look at his face, from having to see the bullet wound I put there.
Tears roll down my cheeks and I make no effort to stop them.
I hear a lighter flick behind me, the smell of cigarette smoke drifting over my shoulder a moment later, and I turn around.
Ilay is leaning against a tree a few feet away with a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking bored out of his mind, like we're waiting in line at the grocery store instead of burying a man I murdered.
"Respect the dead," I say, the words coming out raw.
He takes a long drag and blows smoke out slowly, unbothered.
"Hard to respect a man who tried to steal what's mine. "
"He had a daughter, a little girl. She's seven years old and now she doesn't have a father because of me.
" "Because of him," Ilay corrects while flicking ash onto the ground.
"He knew the risks when he took the job and he knew who he was going up against. Stupid decisions have consequences.
" Part of me wants to scream at him, wants to hit him, but I'm too tired and too empty for either.
One of his men snickers at something the other says, and I don't catch the exact words but I catch the tone.
They're joking. Making fun of the dead man in the hole.
I shoot Ilay a look and he raises an eyebrow but says nothing, he doesn't tell them to stop.
Turning back to the grave, I watch the men shoveling dirt, covering Viktor's body one scoop at a time.
Each thud of earth hitting the sheet makes my stomach turn.
"His daughter," I say, not bothering to look at him.
"Sophia. You're going to take care of her.
" "say something angel?" "Insurance, education, whatever she needs for the rest of her life.
You're paying for it." He doesn't respond right away, and I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. "And why would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking you to." I finally turn around to face him.
"You forced me to kill her father. That little girl is going to grow up without her dad and it's your fault, so the least you can do is make sure she doesn't starve.
" He takes another drag of his cigarette and studies me with those cold eyes.
"Fine," he says after a moment. "Consider it done.
" I blink, having expected more of a fight.
"Just like that?" "You asked and I agreed.
What more do you want, a written contract?
" I don't know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
The men finish filling the grave and pack the dirt down, leaving it uneven and ugly.
There's no headstone, no marker, just a patch of disturbed earth in the middle of the woods that no one will ever find.
Ilay pushes off the tree and walks toward the grave.
For a second I think he might say something, might pay some kind of respect, but instead he takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks the butt onto the freshly turned dirt.
I kick his foot as hard as I can. He looks down at me, amused.
"What?" "You're disgusting." "And you're beautiful when you're angry.
" He glances back toward the house. "Are we done here? I'm getting bored."
Ignoring him, I turn back to the grave and close my eyes, clasping my hands together.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Viktor.
You deserved better than this. You deserved to go home to your daughter, and I hope wherever you are now, you find peace.
I promise I'll make sure Sophia is taken care of and she won't want for anything. I swear it."
I stay like that for a long moment with tears sliding down my face, saying a silent prayer for a man who died trying to help me.
When I finally open my eyes, Ilay is standing beside me.
Not touching me or speaking. Just waiting.
"Okay," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm done." He nods once, then turns and starts walking back toward the house.
I follow, leaving Viktor behind in his unmarked grave without looking back.
***
Something about the house feels different now, and I can't tell if it's because I know we're leaving tomorrow or because something between us has shifted.
The anger is still there, simmering under the surface, but there's something else too, something I don't want to name.
Ilay finds me in the kitchen where I'm staring out the window at nothing.
"Start packing your things," he tells me.
"We leave for Russia in the morning." Russia.
My heart leaps. "Russia? Really?" He nods.
"Does that mean I get to see my dad?" The words escape before I can stop them, coming out hopeful and eager like a child begging for a treat.
I hate how desperate I sound, but it's been so long and I miss him so much.
Ilay's expression stays flat. "Baby girl. Don't start." "What do you mean, don't start? You just said we're going to Russia, and my father is in Russia. I want to see him."
"And you will," he says. "Eventually."
"Eventually?" I frown. "What does that mean?
" He crosses the distance between us, slow and deliberate, until he's standing right in front of me.
Close enough that I have to tilt my head back just to look at him.
"There's still tension between your family and me," he explains.
"We need to let things settle before we go waving hello.
And besides, there's something else we need to take care of first." "What? "
"Your ring." I stare at him, confused. "My ring?" "Yes. When we get back to Russia, I'm going to propose to you properly. Like a man should. And you're going to say yes."
"I already said yes." He smirks. "You said yes while I was inside you.
That doesn't count." He reaches up to brush a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
"I want to do it right. Get you a ring. Get down on one knee.
The whole thing." I search his face. "Since when do you care about doing things right? "
"Since you." His thumb traces along my cheekbone as he speaks. "I want to marry you, Iris. Properly. And then I need to talk to your father so he doesn't do anything stupid, and I don't do anything to upset you, and we don't end up fighting. Because when we fight, I don't like it."
His voice drops, going lower and softer.
"I don't like seeing you upset. I don't like being the reason you cry.
So we're doing this the right way. We go to Russia, get your ring, I propose, and then two months later we go see your father.
By then, everything will have calmed down.
" I search his face for any sign that he's lying, for any hint that this is another manipulation or another one of his games.
But all I see is him. Intense and focused and completely serious.
"Two months?" I ask. "Two months." I consider it.
Two months isn't that long, and if waiting means avoiding a war between Ilay and my family, maybe it's worth it.
"Okay," I finally say. "Two months." Something flickers behind his eyes, relief or satisfaction, though it's always hard to tell with him.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my nose before moving to my left eye, my right, and finally my lips.
The kiss is soft and gentle, nothing like the bruising, demanding kisses I've come to expect from him.
When he pulls back, he's almost smiling.
"So we go to Russia," he says. "We get your ring, and two months later we see your father. Deal?"
"Deal." One more kiss, quick and light, and then he steps back.
"Good. Now go pack. We have an early flight.
" The rest of the day is spent putting my few belongings into a bag.
There isn't much, some clothes that Ilay had his men buy for me, toiletries, a book I found on one of the shelves and never finished reading.
By the time evening comes, I'm exhausted in every way a person can be.
Physically, emotionally, completely drained.
I stand in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water wash away the dirt and grief from the burial, then pull on one of Ilay's shirts with nothing underneath and climb into bed.
I'm scrolling through my phone and watching some stupid video I'm not really paying attention to when the bathroom door opens.
Steam billows out, and then Ilay appears with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets cling to his chest and shoulders, rolling down his skin in a way that makes my mouth go dry even though I'm still mad at him.
He catches me looking and smirks. "See something you like?
" I roll my eyes, turning back to my phone.
"I've seen better." He laughs, the sound low and deep, and walks toward the bed.
The mattress dips as he climbs on, crawling toward me like a predator stalking prey, and settles beside me close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
"What are you watching?" he asks, peering at my screen. "Just some silly video."