12. Galena
GALENA
G alena
The storage unit wasn’t far—a twenty-minute drive in a sleek, dark car that Ilias drove himself, filled with silence.
He didn’t talk much, and I didn’t ask questions.
My stomach twisted tighter with each block, but it had nothing to do with the giant handling the car expertly through the New York traffic.
It had everything to do with my insecurities.
It wasn’t that I cared what Ilias thought about the place I’d been staying.
It wasn’t about pride, but I knew that was a bit of a lie.
Even as I told myself that I had nothing to be ashamed of, there was a small spot inside that wondered if he would judge me for it.
How I’d lived had been purely about survival.
I didn’t owe anyone an apology for how I had managed it.
The facility was located on the edge of Queens, nestled between a tire shop and a worn convenience store. To his credit, Ilias didn’t indicate any disapproval when I gave him the address, even though I was bracing for it.
“This is it.” The metal door buzzed open when I typed the code, and Ilias pushed it forward.
The security guard at the gate was a new guy I hadn’t met before.
He didn’t bother to look up as we moved through the concrete corridors, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead and casting us in unflattering yellow tones.
I wanted to say something else, to make excuses, but I forced myself to keep my lips sealed.
I hesitated at the door of my unit, my hand hovering over the latch as I bent down to the padlock.
I hadn’t let anyone see this part of my life, and what I had been reduced to.
Burying the kernel of shame that I was feeling, I kept my chin high and focused on the present.
I already had a duffel bag and boxes here that I could pack, so I wasn’t worried about that.
There were things I didn’t necessarily need, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to let my unit go.
My throat closed tight, thinking about not having this little safety net to run to.
The metal door screeched open, revealing the tiny eight-by-ten space I called home.
My twin mattress was pushed against the back wall, covered with blankets and a sleeping bag to keep out the cold that seemed to seep in no matter what.
I had a makeshift kitchen setup, which I wasn’t supposed to have.
Then there was a small pile of textbooks from my college classes.
I hadn’t been doing any focused studies, but it had been important to my mother that I go. She’d been so proud of me.
I didn’t look at him. That lump in my throat that I was struggling with seemed to be getting worse every second.
Easing around me, he looked in the space carefully, keeping his face blank.
“This was where you were staying?" he asked finally, voice quiet. His body was close enough to me that I could feel the heat of him, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to move away or lean in closer where I could smell the tantalizing scent of his soap.
“It was temporary,” I said quickly, and instantly regretted it.
I didn’t need to make excuses. "No one knew I was here. I could come and go at night. There was a bathroom down the back hallway. I made it work." Inside my head, I repeated to myself: Don’t be ashamed. It was hard. I wrapped my arms around my elbows as I took in the tiny space. “I’m not looking for any pity.”
"You won’t get it from me," he said. “I admire you, Galena. I want you to know that.” I finally turned to look at him. He wasn’t horrified or angry. That same quiet steadiness that I was beginning to recognize as uniquely his.
“It isn’t shameful to survive the best you can. That’s goddamn impressive. We all have our own scars, you know, in this group. Some you can see and some you can’t. Surviving them sometimes is the tough part. Each step is admirable.” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed.
I looked away, not addressing the compliment, even though it sent a small burst of warmth through me.
It cut too close to the bone to talk about scars and surviving.
It brought up things I wasn’t ready to talk about yet.
Instead, I changed the subject, not caring if that made me a little cowardly.
Instead, I cleared my throat. “I didn’t bring a lot of stuff here. Just a few things. Just what mattered."
"Then we take it all.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care if I wanted him to schlepp all this down the corridors to his fancy car and back to his mansion.
“I don’t need it all.” Not that there was a ton of stuff.
“Just a few boxes of clothes—some of the things that are important. I was half expecting you to bring a whole team of guys in suits to help carry my stuff,” I confessed.
When we left the brownstone, I realized that there were actually men outside guarding the place for real.
Armed men. Suddenly, everything had come into sharp focus for me from our conversation yesterday.
Ilias and Maxim weren’t just nobodies who were pretending to be something they weren’t.
I should be scared, but I couldn’t find it in me to be frightened of them.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Did you want me to?” He quirked up an eyebrow.
"God, no." The thought of a whole bunch of strangers seeing my private space didn’t appeal to me. He still hadn’t moved away from me. If anything, he had moved closer.
He smirked faintly. "Then it’s just us. You tell me what stays and what goes.”
“If you could pack up the books. I can’t leave those. I just really want my clothes and my books.” I didn’t have much, so this shouldn’t take us very long at all .
“No problem.” We packed in silence. He didn’t comment on the textbooks or the broken zipper on my duffel. He just moved methodically, folding, stacking, and helping.
When we were done, we left without a backward glance, with him carrying the duffel as if it weighed nothing, along with another box containing my textbooks, which made his arms bulge.
I tried to ignore how appealing it was. I grabbed another lighter box containing some miscellaneous items. That was everything.
The bed and my kitchen stuff could stay behind.
I stashed my IDs in the box I was carrying, which was nestled under one of my sweaters, trying not to look suspicious.
It held everything I needed to disappear again if necessary, like a little golden parachute.
"Thanks,” I said quietly as we walked back to the car.
"For what?" One eyebrow raised as he slanted a glance over at me.
“For not being weird about where I was living." The whole thing was awkward. I didn’t trust easily, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to keep my guard up every second. And that... scared me more than anything else. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake .
“You’re welcome. There was nothing to be weird about.” He cleared his throat as he steered the car back into traffic. “What about the rest of your stuff and your unit? Did you want to keep it?”
I’d been thinking it over while I was packing. He had thrown the question at me, but I knew he had an opinion. It was all over him. His jaw was so tight I could see him clenching it. I almost laughed, but I’d give him credit for trying to sound nonchalant.
“Well, don’t try to pretend you don’t have an opinion about it. Let’s hear it, cowboy. Do you think I should keep it?” I tried to sound like it wouldn’t burn me up to get rid of it, but I wasn’t sure if I succeeded.
He slanted a look at me. “You’re right, I do have an opinion about it, but I want you to make your own choices. You took anything personal so it shouldn’t matter either way. We found the storage unit’s location when we found the diner.”
Oh, shit. The knowledge hit me like a freight train. Even if I hadn’t fainted like a sack of potatoes on the sidewalk, they’d have found me there anyway. I thought I’d been so smart. “If you could find it …”
“Someone else could too,” he finished.
“Well, that answers that. I won’t be keeping it.” The finality of that chapter of my life closing was a little stab to my heart.
Ilias reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. “It’ll be okay.”
I nodded, but tears still pricked my eyes. “Yeah.” I squeezed his hand back just before he let go.