Chapter Thirty-Four
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
They were ready.
The past twelve months, the twins diligently planned their escape, communicating via ASL in the dead of night so no one could see or hear them.
They had maps. The spare keys to Olga’s car. A stash of food they kept under their portion of the wooden plank. Clean bottled water.
They had their father and brother’s full names. An address in Ireland they stole from Igor’s desk.
Most importantly—they had a plan.
That plan was missing one thing—the code to the main gate standing between them and freedom.
They were fourteen now, and old beyond their years.
Old enough to know what their escape would do to Alex.
There had been arguments about the latter. Tierney said they should confide in Lyosha. Tiernan maintained no one could be trusted, including God himself.
Now, Tiernan stared at his own reflection through a puddle of scarlet blood outside of Igor’s office, smoothing his hair back with his fingers.
Igor was in America, which meant Alex had access to his office. Tiernan pushed the door open without knocking.
Alex was sitting on his father’s throne-like chair, a sixteen-year-old prisoner girl in his lap. They were kissing ardently.
Anger singed Tiernan’s blood. He’d never kissed a girl before. He fucked many in the ass. Boys, too. Whatever Igor told him to do for his own depraved, twisted entertainment.
He had to watch his sister being stripped by other prisoners. Being used by them.
He had to watch her bleed and bleed and bleed until Olga had no choice but to call a local vet to remove her uterus.
Alex wasn’t subjected to all those horrors. He was allowed to grow at his own pace.
“Don’t just stand there,” Alex murmured into the pretty girl’s lips. “Sit down, watch, and take notes.”
Tiernan didn’t budge. “Whose blood outside?”
“This chick’s boyfriend wasn’t happy about our hookup.” Alex laughed.
“We need to talk.”
That got Alex’s attention.
“Leave.” He pushed the girl off him. She fell on her ass comically, pouting before strutting her way out of the office.
“Well?” Alex wiped his lips with the back of his hand, looking very much like a fourteen-year-old kid. He fished a cigarette out of his father’s pack, then struck a match. “What’s up?”
It amazed Tiernan that Alex did not see anything amiss about their friendship. That he was able to buy into this unlikely bond, considering his father killed Tiernan’s mother and snatched him from his home.
Then again, Tyrone did the same to Alex’s mother when he was but a newborn.
“I need the code to the entrance gate,” Tiernan said dryly.
Alex brought the match to the cigarette’s tip, lighting it before shaking out the flame. “Do you, now?”
“Yes.”
“You guys are leaving me?” He took a drag, releasing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“We want to take dips in the water.”
“When?”
“Whenever we want. Tierney’s depressed.” Not a lie. “She needs an outlet after what happened with her surgery.”
Alex considered this.
“Can I come?”
“Sure.”
“Then what do you need the code for?”
“We want to come and go as we please. Not depend on you. Besides, you’re not always here.”
Lyosha mulled this over.
“And you promise you won’t leave me here?”
“I promise,” Tiernan lied.
It wasn’t the first or the last lie he would tell, but it was by far the most justifiable.
“I won’t forgive you if you betray me.” Alex snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray. His hands shook.
“I wouldn’t, either.”
“I love you,” Alex said dejectedly. His eyes met Tiernan’s. “Like a brother. More than a brother, maybe. Because you are a choice. Slava and Jeremie aren’t.”
“I won’t leave you, Lyosha,” Tiernan said softly. “Not ever. You can trust me.”
Alex gave him the code.
The next morning, the twins were gone.
_______
Four days later, they were in Yakutsk.
The journey was a blur of frostbite and darkness.
He and Tierney took turns driving Olga’s old Lada Niva. Tierney spiked a fever the night they escaped but deliriously kept on going, unwilling to stop for more than getting gas. They peed into empty bottles of water. Ate and slept in turns.
When they rolled into the city, they sold the car to the first salesman they found. They held the rubles in their hands with shaky, uncertain fingers. They’d never seen money before.
It was nine in the morning, and too soon to wait for Dima, so they entered an eatery.
There, they ordered eggs and ham and roasted tomatoes and mushrooms and kasha and butterbrots.
Coffee and tea and sugared cranberries, too.
After paying, they rushed outside to vomit everything they’d eaten.
Their stomachs were too small for a hearty breakfast.
They walked to Lenin Square and arrived at eleven. Sat under the statue and checked their surroundings, anxious not to get caught.
Dima arrived at six past noon, just when they had started talking about their plan B. He was the only person in the square other than them.
Tiernan pushed to his feet. “Michael sent me,” he said. “He asked you to get us out of here.”
They had no passports. No birth certificates. Only the names their mother put on those Christmas ornaments fourteen years ago and the clothes on their backs.
“Mongolia,” Dima said with conviction. “We’ll travel there first, then move west. Maybe North Africa. We’ll track your father as we move. For now, let’s get on the train.”
The train was marvelous. Tierney cried tears of joy when they entered the coach. Dima—who was in his mid-fifties, a graying fox of a man—talked very little.
Dinner was piroshki from the concession kiosk. One hour ate away the next until it was nighttime, and Dima and Tierney fell asleep.
Tiernan slipped into the back of the cart, wedged open a window, and stuck his head out.
Then, and only then, he let himself believe he truly escaped the claws of Igor Rasputin.
He tipped his head up and looked at the moon.
The moon stared back.
They smiled at one another, sharing a secret.
Finally, he was free.