44
“ G o where?”
Alessandra stood with her arms crossed over her chest, watching her husband.
They were alone in the living room, though she could hear the other voices coming from the kitchen.
For the past hour, at least half a dozen men she'd never seen before had moved in and out of the house, carrying black duffle bags and what looked like bulletproof vests.
Roman stepped closer to grab her arms and rub his thumbs over her skin. “Somewhere safe. We have places designed for this.”
Although he hadn't given her too much of an explanation about why she had to go, she knew it had everything to do with the payback for Vitaly's attack. The raw energy coming off of her husband was almost palpable. He wanted this . Whatever he had planned, he would enjoy going through with it.
Alessandra didn't know whether to feel disturbed by that realization or accept it for what it was—her reality. She wasn’t under any false illusions about who her husband was.
She'd seen him use the same hands caressing her chilled skin to end lives. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept his eagerness to put himself in harm’s way.
“Why can't I stay here?”
“I'd rather you didn't. People might know this location, and I want you out of sight for the night.”
“What about you? What are you going to do?”
“What I must.”
She frowned at hearing the icy determination coloring that statement. “Roman—”
“Pack a few things for one or two days,” he cut her off, dropping his hands when Vladik crossed the foyer on his way out. “Tatyana should be here any minute.”
“She's coming with me?”
“Yes.” His phone rang, and he reached for it, his attention deterred. “Go.”
Half-heartedly, Alessandra started to walk away, though she paused in the doorway to throw one last look at him. Roman already had his back to her, his phone to his ear as he spoke in Russian, his words clipped and his posture tense.
She hated when he became this version of himself. Cold and unapproachable, no emotion slipping past that facade he put up whenever he had to be the boss instead of her husband.
Upstairs, she grabbed one of Roman's old gym bags and walked into the closet, quickly starting to pull items off the shelves. Not knowing what to expect, she packed jeans, socks, a sweater and some underwear, as well as a pair of comfortable pajamas.
“I hear we're being cellmates for the night. ”
Alessandra started at the sound of the voice coming from behind her. Tatyana stood at the entrance to the closet, hands parked on her hips. Her dark hair was swept up in a high ponytail, and she was wearing a similar outfit of jeans and a sweater.
“Looks like it.”
Blue eyes fixed on Alessandra’s face. “What is Roman doing?”
She looked away from the intense gaze that was almost identical to her husband's. She zipped up the bag and shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“He hasn’t told you anything?”
“Other than we’re being sent to a safe house? No, he hasn’t.”
After a moment, Tatyana sighed and there was resignation in her voice. “I was hoping it wouldn't get to this.”
“I trust Roman. You should, too.”
“When did I say that I don't?”
Alessandra walked out of the closet to set the bag on the bed. She turned to her sister-in-law, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. They were less pronounced than before, but still there. “How have you been?”
“I went to see Dad today. They're feeding him through a tube, but he's lost so much weight already. It's scary to see him like that—immobilized and unaware of everything happening around him.”
“He will recover.” Alessandra’s voice was softer. “Just give him time.”
“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don't know if he will.”
“You two ready?”
Both girls jumped at Alek’s voice coming from the doorway. He stood just inside the bedroom, wearing all black, hands into his pockets. He looked more like himself, the worry and fatigue gone from his face almost entirely.
Alessandra gave him a smile. “Hey, stranger.”
“Miss me?” He took a few steps inside, broad shoulders looking intimidating despite the black of his clothes. For a twenty-two-year-old, he was almost as tall and muscular as his older brother.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she joked.
“So, you ready or not? We should get going.”
Alessandra looked around for her black sneakers that she spotted at the foot of the bed. “I think so. Does this look enough to you?” She gestured to her bag. “I don't know how much to pack.”
He peered down at the pile of clothes inside. “That’s fine. You shouldn't be away for more than one night if everything goes as planned.”
Alessandra exchanged a glance with Tatyana who looked just as uneasy as her. “Please be careful, Alek.”
“Don't worry about it.” He sounded confident, though that didn’t exactly put her mind at ease.
“I need a drink,” Tatyana announced with another sigh. “Where do you keep the booze?”
“Roman's office.”
“I’ll only have a sip,” she told Alek when he gave her a hard look. “I’ll be quick.”
“We’re supposed to leave as soon as Alessandra finishes packing, Anya.”
“Two more minutes won’t kill anyone.”
“Where’s your stuff?”
“Downstairs,” she said, starting to walk out.
Alek begrudgingly exited the room after his sister, and Alessandra followed after putting on her shoes, her bag in tow.
Halfway down the stairs, Alek grabbed the bag from Alessandra, swinging it over his shoulder easily.
They passed the kitchen on the way to the study, where Roman and Andrei were talking in low voices at the island, heads bent over what looked like the plan of a building.
Alessandra half-expected her husband to look up and demand why they were stalling. But neither man noticed them, to wrapped up in whatever they were discussing. The front door opened, Vladik and another man coming inside the house, their faces set into grim lines.
Deciding not to linger and attract attention to herself, she hurried down the hall after Alek. They found Tatyana already digging through Roman's cabinet where he kept all the liquor.
“Straight for the hard stuff, huh?” Alessandra said with some humor when Tatyana pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured a finger into a tumbler.
“I feel like I'm going to need it. Want some?”
“No, thanks.”
Alek sighed heavily, letting his sister know his patience was running thin. Tatyana rolled her eyes, taking a sip and scrunching up her face when the potent alcohol hit her throat.
They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, with Alessandra leaning against the desk and Tatyana nursing her drink thoughtfully.
It would have been a peaceful night, were it not for the rush of the operation unfolding all over the ground floor of the house.
Outside, the night sky looked tenebrous, announcing the heavy storm laying somewhere past the horizon line.
From time to time, flashes of lightning forked the dark sky, illuminating the white ash trees on the east side of the property.
Alek checked his watch and frowned. “We need to get going before—”
He was cut off by the sound of shouting coming from somewhere inside the house. It sounded far-away, as if it came from someone standing on the top floor, maybe even in one of the bedrooms. The words were too rushed for understanding.
The three of them stared at the open door in confusion.
But soon enough that confusion turned to panic as more shouting followed, this time coming from the direction of the foyer, and it sounded like Roman issuing some sort of order.
Alek immediately set into motion. Reaching behind his back, he took out his gun and closed the office door, locking them inside.
Alessandra's heart began pounding furiously as she watched him back away from the locked door, gun aimed toward it.
“Move back,” he ordered, voice hard and eyes set on the door.
“What's going on?” Tatyana whispered, setting her unfinished drink on the desk with a trembling hand. “Alek…”
“Quiet, Anya.” He gestured with his hand they should move farther away from the door.
When the first gunshot rang, both girls froze in their spots. It was muffled, as if suppressed by a silencer, but it was unmistakably the sound of a firearm being shot. Another one followed seconds later, and then many others in rapid succession.
“Roman,” Alessandra breathed, her feet carrying her to the door instinctively. She didn’t know what she was doing, just that she needed to get to him.
A strong arm caught her by the waist, stopping her.
“Let me go.” She was barely able to get the words out, her knees weak and her chest feeling like it was going to explode from the force of her heartbeats.
“Open the window,” Alek said to his sister over his shoulder. The shooting was accompanied by more shouting as mayhem broke out inside the house.
Alessandra struggled against the hold. “Oh, God.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Roman!”
“Open the goddamn window, Anya!”
At her brother’s raised voice, Tatyana nearly jumped out of her skin, though she hurried to the windows and opened one with such force, it swung violently, escaping her grasp and hitting the wall.
If it weren’t for the loud commotion already unfolding outside the study door, such mistake could have cost them their lives.
Alek cursed and dragged a struggling Alessandra with him by the wrist as he leaned over the windowsill to look outside.
Being so close to him, Alessandra could make out movement on the front lawn, and knew he had to make a difficult decision.
Either stay and risk getting cornered, or flee the place and risk being caught in the crossfire.
Alessandra glanced at the door again, her vision narrowing at the edges. She couldn’t run. Not without her husband.
Alek considered his options for a moment longer. Since the study was situated at the back of the house, and the backyard looked quiet, the right decision seemed obvious .
“Out,” he said, jerking his head toward the open window. “Now.”
Tatyana obeyed without protest, swinging her legs over the windowsill and looking both ways before dropping down on the lawn below. Once she was out, Alek pushed Alessandra forward. “Go. Hurry.”
She shook her head, hot tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t leave him.”
“He can take care of himself,” Alek said harshly, and, looking into his eyes, she could see the fear he was trying to hide for their benefit. “We need to get out of here. He’ll never forgive me if anything happens to you.”
She swallowed thickly past the lump firmly lodged into her throat.
“Please,” he urged. “We don’t have time.”
Body trembling and desperate tears blurring her vision, Alessandra finally moved, gripping the window frame tightly as she hoisted herself up.
She landed on the soft grass, her sneakers squeaking on the fresh dew brought forward by the dropping temperatures.
Alek was right behind her, throwing a quick glance over the brick fence separating them from the chaos happening up front.
Male voices rang out, loud and angry. A shrill sound like glass breaking echoed into the dead of night.
“Keep to the side of the house,” Alek said quietly, moving to walk in front of them, gun pointed forward. “Let's go.”
Loud thunder rumbled from the gloomy sky, and an oppressive shift in the air indicated the storm was getting closer. They rushed past the patio table and the drained swimming pool.
“Who lives over there?” Alek asked when they reached the far side of the property’s fence .
“I-I don't know,” Alessandra stammered, realizing she had no idea who their neighbors were. They lived far enough that she never saw them, and in truth, she'd never really cared.
He grabbed the wide edge and lifted himself up to peer on the other side. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he dropped to his feet, got down on one knee and intertwined his fingers, palms up. “Come on. Step on my hands.”
The harshness of his voice set Alessandra into motion immediately. Stepping onto the ledge he'd made with his hands, she grabbed the top of the fence and pulled herself up as best as she could. With a final push from Alek, she swung one leg over the edge to straddle it.
Her gaze drifted back to the house.
Roman was in there, facing danger, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She felt so helpless and small in a world that seemed hell-bent on swallowing her up in its sinister obscurity.
And in that brief moment suspended in time, Alessandra hated the life forced upon her since birth.
She hated feeling scared for herself and for the people she loved.
But most of all, she resented not having any control over her existence: past, present and future.
Tearing her eyes away with difficulty, she focused on not planting on her face in the neighbors' yard.