Chapter 33 Escape
Escape
Isla
It's either our way or death.
Roman’s low voice died down, but his poisonous words boomed in my ears. I searched his icy blue eyes for any remorse, but there was none, not when he told me who he really was.
No.
He was confident, assertive, and unrepentant.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to cause him as much pain as he’d caused me. He was no longer the love of my life. Now, he was my enemy.
Bitter understanding seeped into all of me, and I nodded in defeat, trying to walk out of his grasp, but I made no progress.
I was in love with a man who was in the Russian Mafia. Wow. There wasn’t a way to ever anticipate that. His appearance, friends, and money all made perfect sense now.
"What's going to happen if I leave you? You're going to kill me too?" I knew he wouldn't, but I wanted him to think that I believed he was a monster. Tears pooled in his eyes when he heard that. Good.
"Of course not,” he whispered. “But you're not going to leave me, Isla. Because we both won't survive it. You know it. Don't lie to yourself.” He spoke quietly and with conviction, as if I was supposed to melt at those words.
Fuck him. I could survive anything; I was sure of it now.
"A very big difference between you and me is that I'm actually always honest. I don't lie. Let go." I jerked in his grasp, trying to free myself, but he didn’t even flinch, still drowning me in his hug. "Let me go!" I writhed in his arms, but it produced no results.
"No. I'm not letting you go anywhere. Stay mad. Cry, hit me, yell, break things!” he implored me, his eyes full of care once more. “But you’re not leaving. We’re going to work this out.”
Work this out?! He was delusional!
“Work it out? Which part do you want to work out, Roman?” I tilted my head, holding back from screaming the words.
“The part where you murdered my parents? The part where I barely survived the devastation? Or the last tidbit—that you’ve been fucking the daughter of the man you killed.
Which part?!” My shout echoed in the room, loud and obnoxious.
I couldn’t hold back.
Visibly distraught, he shut his eyes and threw his head back. Yes, it was painful for him, and a tiny part of me celebrated the hurt this was causing him.
“Angel, please, just-just hear me out, okay?” He bent down to my eye level, his grasp on me so soft, so caring. “Your father…he—” Roman’s gaze flicked to anything but me as he searched for excuses.
“No.” I shook my head, defeated. “No, don’t…
don’t. Don’t give me any more details. I can’t—” Nausea clawed at my collarbone, and I ceded, stopping my struggle against his grasp.
Gently, I moved his arms out of the way and headed to the shower.
“Let’s talk tomorrow.” I threw out the sentence, knowing that I was going to leave, tonight.
I’d leave all my things. My wallet, my passport, my life—that’s all that I would take back to New York with me. And then I would start from scratch…for the second time this summer.
After an agonizing shower I climbed into bed like usual, but my mind was ablaze with everything I’d found out.
I was in bed with a cold-blooded murderer.
Roman watched my every move, but neither he nor I spoke to each other when I turned off the bedside lamp and scooted to the edge of the bed—as far away from him as possible.
My only goal was to hold it together, to not break out into bitter tears again, so I focused on breathing in and out until his low voice interrupted my efforts.
"Isla,” he called out in the dark. "Isla, I need you to know that I meant what I said. You will forever be mine, Angel. I’ll never let you go."
His words were final, absolute, and irrefutable. My mind was in a haze, and there was nothing I could say to ease my pain. So I said nothing, opting to stay as still as possible.
I drifted in and out of sleep, tormented by images of my dead parents. The truth would rush to me every time I’d jerk awake, bringing fresh tears to my eyes, but I forced myself to stay in bed. But when I checked my phone for the hundredth time to see the clock strike three am, I knew it was time.
My toes padded on the hardwood floor, but I moved silently and fumbled in the dark for my dress and purse. My heartbeat thundered in my ears—I was sure it would wake Roman. But he stayed still. Asleep. With my passport in hand, I crept out of the room into the dark hallway.
Almost out of there, I was sliding my second foot into my sandal when—
“Where do you think you’re going?” Roman’s voice boomed in the darkness, sending my heart into my heels. I gasped loudly, snapping my head back to see his silhouette standing at the end of the hallway.
Oh fuck.
I moved quicker, shoving my foot in the damn sandal, one hand on the door and the other on the lock. I yanked the door open, false hope blooming inside me, but his warm body suddenly loomed behind me, his hand forcefully shutting the door.
Speechless and scared to death, I looked into his eyes, the sparkle dangerous and unhinged. “No, Isla!” His hand was firmly planted on the doorhandle, all of his tattooed chest an inch away from me. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here.”
My soul fluttered right out of me. To say that I was frightened would have been the biggest understatement in the world. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but his resolve and his actions were alarming. He meant what he said: he wasn’t going to let me leave.
He didn’t plead, he didn’t beg, he commanded.
"I-I'm not your property," I stammered, backing into the apartment, but he followed, his strides purposeful and confident. “You can’t keep me here against my will, Roman.” But I knew using logic was futile.
"Not against your will, baby." His tone shifted, and he was once again filled with kindness and care. “We will figure this out, Angel. I promise. Trust me. We will get past this." Now he sounded desperate.
My mind worked a mile a minute as I wondered what I could hit him with to get a few seconds for an escape.
"R-Roman..." My voice warbled just as I backed into the foyer console. "Please. You have to let me go." Keys! I felt around behind me, finally finding his car keys.
"No..." He shook his head; deep concern etched into every one of his features. "I’ll never let you go, Isla. If you leave...you will never come back." His voice shook, just like my insides. "But if you stay...I promise we will work it out, baby. I promise."
His hand reached for my cheek, and I knew this was the moment. I swung my arm with all my strength, grazing the side of his face with the key, cutting deep into his cheekbone.
“Argh!” His cry of pain was agonizing, but I forced myself to ignore it, bolting out the front door and toward the staircase. Almost there—I was almost there!
But just before I reached it, a strong hand gripped my wrist and yanked me back. "Isla!" He caught me in his arms, crushing me against him again.
At this moment, I realized that if I didn't fight for my life, I would never leave, and I was too goddamn angry to let that happen!
"Let go! You fucking psycho! Let me go!" The words ripped out of me, but I knew no one would hear me—there was only one neighbor on the floor, and they were usually out of town.
I writhed with all my strength, throwing punches and kicks, and somewhere in the commotion, my shin hit him between the legs.
He doubled over with a groan, his grip loosening just enough for me to tear free and beeline it for the exit doors once more.
But Roman didn’t give up.
His strong fingers closed around my ankle, and he pulled—hard. My knees hit the floor, and both of us toppled over, as if in a wrestling match.
I was at such a disadvantage! We were on the floor, him pulling, me pushing, both of us breathless and furious.
I was losing. Like quicksand, Roman was gathering me into his clutches.
Tears poured down my cheeks, and I looked back at him only to get hit with another dose of devastation. His left cheek was bleeding, the cut from the keys having done a good amount of damage.
Immediate guilt flooded me; I didn't think it would hurt him like that! Suddenly, I felt that I was wrong. What was I doing?! I was leaving him! I would never see him again! How would I live without him now?! I loved him!
"Isla..." Roman begged breathlessly, the pain in his voice cutting me like a machete. "Baby, please! Please, stay!" I struggled to climb away, but he kept tugging me closer, and I was almost within his full grasp once more.
No. He killed my family; he destroyed everything I loved.
I didn't love him.
I didn't love him.
I didn't love him!
I repeated the lie, forcing myself to believe it.
"No! Let me go, Roman! Roman! Let me go!" I shouted in a panic.
But then something came over me. It was now or never.
Both of us toppled over, I looked back at his beautiful eyes filled with agony and kicked him with all my strength, landing right in his nose.
“Blyat!” he cursed loudly and released me immediately, his hands flying to his face. That was all I needed. I scrambled to my feet and rushed toward the staircase, flying down the stairs, holding onto the railing for dear life.
My time with him flashed in my eyes as I raced down the never-ending staircase. It was over. All of it was shattered, broken, never to be repaired again. All his sweet words, all his gentle touches. Every single moment we shared together was thrown into the abyss of our tragedy.
And it was our tragedy. We were forever linked by his terrible actions.
I finally made it to the ground floor but stopped abruptly and waited behind the door, trying to catch my breath. What if he was in the lobby waiting for me?
My adrenaline and unexpected exercise rendered me almost blind, but I waited and waited. It felt like a whole day passed, but then, in the small window of the door, Roman appeared, rushing out of the elevator and out the front door.
He was furious. The look in his eyes sent shivers through me—he was determined to find me and bring me back. Blood gushed out of his nose, dripping on the gray t-shirt he put on. Taking long and fast strides, he disappeared behind the front doors, and tires screeched outside a few seconds later.
This was the first time he parked his car outside instead of in the underground garage, and my heart sank even more—he anticipated that I would escape.
My phone buzzed in my little purse, but I forbade myself from looking at it. Instead, I slipped into the dark night and caught the first cab I saw, heading to the bus terminal.
The phone didn’t stop ringing. Again and again, it buzzed after a one-second pause, but I ignored it. It was too painful to see his name.
All of L.A. blurred. The cab rushed past orange streetlights and tired storefronts, but I saw nothing, drowning in tears in the backseat. The city felt endless. And I knew, without a doubt, Roman had lost me.
In every possible way.
I bought a ticket for a bus that was leaving in twenty minutes to San Diego. I didn't care where on earth this bus was going, only that it leave as soon as possible.
Petrified, I nervously glanced around and jumped from every moving shadow, expecting to see Roman any second. The longest twenty minutes of my life crawled by on the clock as if taunting me.
Finally, the time came, and I climbed on, grabbing an aisle seat at the back, praying to God that I didn't believe in, that Roman wouldn't magically show up on the steps of the bus.
He didn't, and the doors were about to close, but at the last minute, a man hopped on without any luggage.
He looked young, wearing a black hoodie, but his demeanor and look didn't give off relaxed teenager vibes.
No, he looked like he was in search of something…
or someone. He scanned the entire bus as if looking for a seat, but I noticed.
I noticed his eyes linger on me just a second too long. A second longer than on anyone else.
He slid into a window seat at the front of the bus, and we set off, my anxiety levels at an all-time high.
I knew he was here most likely looking for me, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
The bus was on its way, and if Roman was waiting for me at my destination, then I would just have to deal with it then.
Meandering through the city at a painstakingly slow pace, we finally made it out onto the freeway, the bus taking me farther and farther away from him.
I bawled on the journey as if I’d just buried my mother. I remembered those tears very well. The bus wasn't full, but my tears got the attention of a few nearby passengers who looked at me with concern, one of them offering me some tissues.
A mere few agonizing hours later, I disembarked in San Diego, relief flooding all of me that Roman was nowhere to be found. And the young man in the hoodie stepped off the bus and jumped into a cab, never sparing me another glance. Maybe he wasn’t there for me after all.
Without lingering, I grabbed the first cab and headed straight for the airport: I was going home, and I was never coming back.
The flight to New York was only a few hours but felt like a lifetime of agony.
Numb and ripped apart from the pure hell I was living through in my mind, I hated every single person on that plane.
They all lived so easily, discussing their New York trip plans, not having any idea that the man I was in love with killed my parents.
And the man…was waiting for me in New York. As soon as I exited the terminal doors, my gaze locked with his.
He stood front and center in the arrivals hall, his resolve to claim me unwavering.
Sporting a bandage on his nose and one on his cheek, both his eyes were bruised, giving him a most sinister appearance.
And behind him were two massive bodyguards, stone-faced and alert.
That was new; I'd never seen that in L.A.
Time splintered and everything slowed. It was just me and him, outside of time and space, with each other. Nothing else mattered. My chest burst with emotion. The love and care I had for him obliterated my anger for one dangerous second.
That was my boyfriend! He was here waiting for me, and I wanted to run to him and jump in his arms, kiss him tenderly, and tell him how much I’d missed him.
But then his words from last night, bloodied and stained with my parents' suffocated screams, floated to the top of my mind.
I was responsible for the death of your parents.
They didn't suffer.
We made the decision to get rid of him completely.
It's either our way or death. And your father knew that.
Fuck. Him. Never breaking eye contact, I walked right past him.
Everything between us was over.