Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
LYAH
“A nswer the fucking question, Emylyah," Niko snarls as he advances on me with lethal speculation. I’ve never seen him like this. And he’s covered in blood, hastily wiped away, and a stench that has my usually cast-iron stomach roiling.
His eyes are wild, feral, like a predator cornering its prey and I stumble backwards, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. I really don’t.
Niko's laugh is cold, humorless. He reaches over to his printer, and snags a document off of it, waving it in front of my face. "Then explain this."
I squint at the paper, trying to make sense of the official-looking text. My blood runs cold as I catch sight of two names - mine and another I don't recognize. A date. Signatures. It can't be what I think it is.
"A marriage certificate?" I breathe, confusion and panic swirling inside me. "But I've never…"
"Don't lie to me!" Niko roars, slamming his fist against the wall beside my head. I flinch, pressing myself flat against the cool surface. "You were there. You had to be. This is genuine. It’s signed by a fucking judge."
Despite the trembling, which makes it as hard to read as the tears building behind my eyes, I do my best to scan the details. It’s the date that hits me.
Eighteen years ago. The courtroom. The gunshots. My mother's hand gripping mine as we ran. And... a boy. Dark hair. A little older, but not much. Still a child, just like me. Is he the one Niko’s asking about? Zack Kincaid? I was never introduced; never even spoke to him.
“I-I don’t understand. Where did this come from? How did you get it? It must be a scam, a diversion to take you away from…”
“It came from your sister,” Niko bellows, causing me to flinch. “She was sending it to you, not me. I just intercepted it. Fortunately.” The way he says that last word, quiet and full of menace, makes me shudder.
“But this… this is d-dated eighteen years ago, Niko,” I stammer, holding it out for him to see, like maybe that will appease him. “I was only a child!”
It surely can’t be real, no matter what Niko thinks.
His eyes narrow as he scans the certificate with more care. “Lenka!” He spits out my mother’s name like a curse as he crumples the document in his fist.
"It was her, wasn’t it,” Niko growls, his voice low and dangerous. It’s not a question. “She set this up. But why?"
I shake my head, desperately trying to make sense of it all, myself. "I don't know, Niko. I swear I don't remember any of this. I remember going to a courthouse. There was a shooting that day, chaos everywhere. My mom just grabbed me, and we ran. We were always running."
His eyes bore into mine, searching for any hint of deception. I hold his gaze, willing him to see the truth. But the wrath doesn't fade from his expression as he grabs his phone and dials a number.
I can only hear his half of the conversation with my mother, but whatever she says, it doesn’t pacify him at all. In fact, he just looks more furious.
“Don’t play coy, Lenka. I have the certificate.” Those four words sizzle in the air like a live wire. I feel my breath catch, suspended like a bead of water about to fall.
There is a brief pause. I can almost hear her calculating what excuse to choose.
“Nothing! You think this is nothing?” His tone is one of disbelief, but I know to my mother, it’s not a lie. It was… is nothing... to her. To him, it’s the world.
He ends the call before she can say any more, clearly done with her, and the silence that follows is so complete I can hear the pounding of my own blood. Niko turns away, his breathing harsh, one hand braced on the edge of his desk.
He spins to face me with the empty, haunted look of a man crawling through the wreckage of hope. But I already know there is no hope. I know it just as surely as I can see his pulse thrumming at the base of his throat or the tremor in his jaw as he grinds his molars together.
“Everything about you is fake,” he spits, harshly. “Even your age. You’re not twenty-eight at all. You’re thirty! Even you must have known such a simple thing, you’re not that dumb.”
I am? My mother changed my age so often when I was a child, I truly lost count. But when she sent me to boarding school… Oh god! I was taller than all my friends. Taller, but not as well developed… because I’ve always been skinny.
I know it right then. She lied about my age.
It makes a horrifying sense. I’d been behind in my previous schools because of all the moving around we did, but suddenly I was at the same level as my peers.
Mother said it was because it was a better school, and I was more settled. It made sense at the time.
"We're done," he says, his voice cold and final. "Get out."
The words hit me like a physical blow. What? He can’t mean that. "Niko, please…”
"Out!" he roars, and I flinch at the raw anger in his voice. He throws the crumpled marriage certificate at me and I catch it reflexively, balling it in my fist. Such a tiny thing to have ruined my entire life.
“But…”
“No!” His hand cuts through the air, so close I can feel the air displace in a rush over my skin.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you even care that you’ve made my son an illegitimate bastard?
An insignificant svolota who will never be acknowledged by those who still believe in the old traditions?
It will cause my men to think twice before they choose whether to lay down their life for him. ”
“No. Niko, surely not!” Would that really happen? He’s just a defenseless baby.
“Yes!” Niko bellows in my face. “You think I don’t know my own men? We’ve dragged them into the twenty-first century kicking and screaming, but there are some things that will never change.”
My heart clenches that they could be so cruel, but Niko is deadly serious.
“Now, I don’t want to see you or be near you. And I especially don’t want to hear any more beautiful lies coming out of your beautiful mouth. So go! I’m done with you.”
He points to the door, and tears blur my vision as I stumble towards it.
My hand shakes as I reach for the handle, casting one last desperate look over my shoulder.
But Niko has already turned away, his broad back to me as he braces himself against his desk in such a way that I know he’s battling to rein his temper in.
I flee into the hallway, my heart pounding and my mind reeling. The world tilts and spins around me, nausea threatening to overwhelm me, and all around me are the judgmental eyes of his soldiers. Our silent bodyguards. Oh god, they heard all that too?
Shame burns through me, hot and searing, as I stumble past them. Their faces are impassive, but I can feel the weight of their stares, heavy with condemnation and without a hint of pity.
I run blindly, my feet carrying me through the winding corridors of Niko's sprawling compound.
Each step echoes in my ears, a pounding rhythm that matches the frantic beating of my heart.
I need to get out, to escape this suffocating place that just recently I'd started thinking of as a real home. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.
The cool night air hits me as I burst through the front doors, gulping in deep breaths as I stumble down the steps. My mind races, trying to process everything that just happened. The marriage certificate, my real age, Niko's fury - it's all too much.
I hear shouts behind me, probably the guards alerting others to my disgrace.
It all serves to bring me to my senses. What am I doing?
I’m barely dressed, and I have nothing on my feet.
If I leave now, I’ll probably never be allowed back in, which means I need to grab everything I can before Niko’s goons evict me bodily.
Turning on my heel I rush back inside, racing to the quarters that are no longer my place of refuge.
I hastily get dressed and put on the first pair of shoes I find, then grab a duffel bag from the closet.
My hands shake as I stuff it with clothes, toiletries, and the few personal items I've accumulated during my time here.
Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away furiously. I can't afford to break down right now.
As I zip up the bag, my eyes fall on the balled-up marriage certificate I threw on the bed. A wave of nausea hits me as I smooth it out, staring at the unfamiliar name beside mine. Zack Kincaid. Who is he? And why would my mother do this?
There's only one way to find out. I need to contact Gabi, since Niko said he found all this in an email she sent me. I’ll check what she sent as soon as I get somewhere safe.
She's the only one who might have some answers; I’ll never trust a word from my mother’s mouth again.
If anyone can help me make sense of this mess, it's my sister.
I grab my phone and wallet, shoving them into the bag along with the certificate.
As I sling it over my shoulder, I take one last look around the suite that has been my sanctuary in this cold, soulless compound.
The silk sheets are still rumpled from where I lay, waiting for my husband’s return, a taunting reminder of our lovemaking this morning, when everything seemed so hopeful.
Niko's scent lingers in the air, causing my heart to clench painfully, but I force myself to turn away, marching out of the room with as much dignity as I can muster.
The hallways are eerily quiet now, the guards conspicuously absent.
Niko obviously sanctioned my departure. I never thought he’d ever allow me to leave so the thought stings more than I care to admit.
He told me on our wedding day he’d never let me go, but I guess that was just another beautiful lie.
Since he’s not stopping me, he really must be done with me. With both of us.
The thought is almost too much to bear, and I have to force it aside in order to function.
Outside, the night air is crisp against my tear-stained cheeks.
It’s only when I stand on the steps to the compound, I realize I don’t have my car keys.
Well, I’m not going back for them. I can’t bear to spend another moment under the weight of so many judgmental glares and such malicious condemnation.
Besides, wherever I’m going, I won’t be able to afford to run it.
I can’t even sell it, since it’s in Niko’s name, and if I need to travel out of the country to find my sister, I don’t want to waste what little money I have on airport parking.
So instead, I slip through the perimeter gates on foot, the guard’s dark stare making me shudder so much that I hurry down the street instead of calling an Uber and waiting.
Behind me, the imposing gates close with a finality that makes my chest ache.
A block away, I see a cab and wave it down.
I have no idea where I’m going. My life hasn’t facilitated making my own decisions, so I just ask the driver to drop me at a cheap motel where I can stay the night and get my head on straight.
I could go to Roisin’s, I know, but the journey from Brighton Beach to the West Village in Manhattan will still take thirty minutes, even at this time of night, and I really don’t want to talk right now.
Plus, with a new baby, she needs her sleep.
It’s all I can do to stumble into the dingy motel and pay for a room.
Tomorrow. Things will be better tomorrow.
Grabbing my phone to check the time, I groan when I see there’s only thirty-three percent charge left. This is my lifeline. I don’t have a laptop or a tablet, and I have a lot to organize, so my phone is it. That’s when I realize I’ve forgotten to pack my charger.
Fuck my life. Yeah, that just about sums it all up. As exhaustion hits, I power it down to save the battery until I can buy another, then crawl onto the bed.
It’s a relief to finally curl up on the lumpy mattress and simply lie down. Not that there’s sleep to be had. Instead, I allow the long pent-up tears to fall, until fatigue drags me into sweet oblivion.