Chapter 16
16
LUCY
T he breeze picks up the faster I run through the streets of a small Turkish town. The market is teeming with civilians, families enjoying their evening and tourists zipping in and out of shops and restaurants. Wrapping the headscarf tighter around my neck, I tie it into a loose knot beneath my chin to stop it from blustering off.
“Sorry,” I yell back at a local screaming at me. My shoulder throbs from the impact that almost took us both out, and all I can do is yell back again, “So sorry.”
The maxi dress Elif put me in does nothing but get in the way as I try to weave in and out of the crowd and leap over every dog and its mate that’s walking the streets. With the mosque that Elif told me to look out for in sight, I dip into the side street that she said I should follow down to the other side of the seafront.
Pulling my rucksack tighter on my shoulders with one hand, I feel for the gun holstered into the garter on my thigh. My foot pulses in the confines of my trainers that are slightly too snug for comfort. Still, I keep running until I reach the end of the quiet side street and flag down one of the tuk-tuk tour carts driving past.
“I need to get to Silifke,” I tell him after dragging in a deep breath to steady my beating heart.
“Silifke?” he laughs back, shaking his head.
“I’ll pay you double.”
That gets his attention, staunching his laughter as he narrows his eyes at me. “It’s double to leave town.”
“I’ll pay quadruple… four times the going rate.” Jumping into the cart, I pull my backpack off my shoulders and take out some of the cash that Elif put in there.
I know it’s not enough to pay him, but I have a gun. The sight of which will make him shit himself.
“You get this now and the rest once you get me there.”
The bastard looks down at my hand with a sneer as he takes the cash and counts it.
“No, not even enough for tour of Akdeniz. Get out.”
“I’ve got more,” I lie, watching our surroundings for any sudden movements or commotion.
Tomasz knows I’m gone; I can feel it in my bones. I can feel him hunting me just the way he did that night in the woods with his dogs. My ears prick at every high-pitched noise, as though they’re listening out for his whistle.
“Get out!”
Reaching into the backpack, I take the second wad of cash. It’s slimmer than the first, but I’m hoping that producing it will get him to move. “Here. Take it.”
“I don’t want it. You get out.”
Fuck it! It was always going to end with me pulling my gun out on him, anyway.
“Oh shit!” he cries, throwing me the cash I gave him and raising his hands in the air when he sees the weapon.
“Go or I’ll put a hole in your head.” Nodding down at the wedding ring on his hand and the photo stuck to the corner of his windshield, I add, “You’ll never see your wife and kids again.”
I barely finish before he turns and navigates us through the backstreets towards the main road leading out of the town.
“Don’t stop,” I snap at him when he slows at a set of traffic lights.
The surroundings are quiet. Too quiet. My spine tingles with the same ominous feeling I had the night I walked out of my parents’ house to meet my handler. The night that brought me here. Pulling my rucksack back on, I edge closer to my escape when a blacked-out sedan rolls to a stop on one side of the tuk-tuk.
Run. Run, run, run… My instincts scream at me.
Jumping out, the air whooshes out of my lungs at the screech of wheels on the tarmac. I’m running back the way we came when the sedan reverses, spinning to a stop right in front of me while the other car closes me in.
Motherfucker! Pulling back, I take aim and shoot as the back door swings open.
I get another shot before I get yanked back, and darkness surrounds me with the sound of heavy doors slamming shut.
This isn’t Tomasz. My gut twists with certainty, making me close my hand tighter around the firearm, making sure I don’t drop it while I try to wrangle myself free. It’s impossible though. Even without my vision, I can tell that I’m outweighed by the almost crushing hold the men have on my arms.
They must be men. Trying to force my vision to adapt to the bleakness of the van, I tug at my arms and push on the soles of my feet to leverage myself into a better position. Another pointless task that will only wear down my energy.
Women wouldn’t move the way these two do—with clump and brusqueness. Pushed and pulled around by them, I can’t tell whether I’m up or down. When they throw me into a corner of the van, my elbow hits a wheel arch, causing me to drop my weapon as the pain fizzes up my arm and muscles spasm with the aftershock.
With no idea of what they’re saying, the only thing I can be certain of it’s that they’re not speaking Russian. If my gut hadn’t already figured out that this isn’t Tomasz’s doing, the garbled rambling of the men pointing their short rifles leaves no room for doubt.
I am no longer in the hands of my dark Russian prince. For the first time since he took me, the fear I feel has nothing to do with my emotions or personal moralistic conflict and everything to do with the fact that I’ve always known I would die young.
With no one left, I’m the ghost I was always destined to be.
Nothing has changed.
I’m alone.
Inching my hand closer to the gun, I try to grab for it. My fingertips brush cool metal. Maybe I am on my own, but I can still put up a good fight. Do what it takes to stay alive one more second, even if it doesn’t matter in the end.
Edging the weapon closer, I almost have time to grab it. However, the jerk of the van sends it skittering away. I lift my foot to kick one man straight in the bollocks while the muzzle of the other’s rifle whips my head to the side. A kick to my side follows the hard hit.
The pain breaks the dam holding my tears at bay, and while the pain bursts through me, my howling sob robs me of my breath.
I never wanted to die alone.
But that’s what’s going to happen because I won’t be anyone else’s prisoner. I won’t survive what’s coming.
A terror I’ve never felt assaults me. Every muscle in my body steels with its chill. My gasps become painful and impossible to stomach as my stomach cramps and bile burns up my throat, bursting from my lips as one bastard hoists me up by my hair, dangling me like a punchbag in front of the other. Incapable of fighting back, I take every hit like a penance for all my failures. The price for all my sins.
There’s one that never flits or wades through the screaming of my thoughts. One that remains and brightens with every punch, kick, and slap. Even when I’m dropped to the floor, my body incapable of moving, it lights up my mind.
Tomasz—he is the only wrong I can’t get past. The only thought that remains in the dark.My enemy. My tormentor. The only light that refuses to die.