Chapter 36
Nika
Our jet descends quickly, and my ears pop with the change in pressure. I swallow hard in an attempt to equalize them. The cut on my cheek throbs.
If I had any energy, I’d be miserable. Right now, I can only endure.
My right hand is purple and swollen to twice its normal size, overlapping the plastic strip on that wrist. With each thump of my heart, fresh pain radiates up my arm.
That’s not even the worst of this nightmare.
At one point, I woke up to a pockmarked fortysomething man named Yakov stroking my hair and saying he hopes I disappoint Dimitri so they all get a turn with me.
Throughout the agonizing flight, I’ve done my best to sleep and ignore the men.
I don’t know how many hours we’ve been in the air.
I had no knowledge of Dimitri’s private jet until he took me to a remote airstrip the day after we left the lodge.
Apparently, he’s omitted many truths over the years.
Through the window, greenery rises on the horizon, growing brighter and larger as we approach.
The surrounding waters are impossibly blue in the sunrise.
Lush and tropical, the land is small enough to barely count as an island, especially juxtaposed against the others now coming into view in the same archipelago.
The visual holds my gaze captive as recognition creeps past the dissociation.
The shape of the coastline. The way the island rises from the water. The burned-out structure on the eastern shore, visible through vegetation.
My eyes find the curve of the shore. The exact beach where I last saw Mom alive. We’d built sandcastles and enjoyed popsicles with Dad when he came outside on a break. Then we played in the surf. Mom wouldn’t let me swim in the deeper water because she considered it too dangerous.
That beach has haunted my dreams just as much as the path where I found her body.
Isla de Huesos.
Chaos Island, Max called it.
The place where I lost everything, where Dimitri found me and started my life of lies and brainwashing. He ruined my entire existence.
My thoughts wander back to Max, the only bit of hope I have left in this mess.
Did he somehow escape, or did he die in the snow?
After Dimitri hauled me away from the lodge, we spent the better part of a day in a safe house I didn’t know existed while he made plans for the flight to the island. I kept hoping Max would come bursting through the door, but the brutal reality is that he probably didn’t survive.
Max isn’t coming to save me. No one is.
I wasted over half my life hiding from the people who loved me while dedicating myself to a revenge plan based on lies.
The only people who could save me think I still hate them.
I try to keep the hopelessness from spiraling out of control, but my chest remains cold and empty.
As we come down out of the clouds, Dimitri smiles at me and gives my ruined hand a squeeze.
I want to shove his head into the window. Max’s attack left Dimitri’s face a disaster, with a destroyed nose and two black eyes. He’s so swollen, I barely recognize him.
Despite his injuries, Dimitri’s still in control, giving orders while everyone silently laughs at my condition.
Every bit of my training urges me to retaliate, but then what would happen?
Compromised with pain, starvation, and thirst, I know I wouldn’t be able to overpower him or his men. I have to hold out until I have a real chance.
Max would be patient. He’d wait for the right time.
I can do that. I’ll wait until Dimitri drops his guard.
The jet lands on an overgrown airstrip maintained just enough for the wheels to touch down. As one of the men Dimitri assigned to this mission grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, I spot two SUVs racing out to meet us.
Pavel and Anton are driving, which explains where they went.
Dimitri takes the lead, leaving Yakov and three other goons whose names I never learned to escort me out. They navigate around me with the precision of seasoned professionals. For all I know, they are.
I trusted Dimitri to give me updates on our missions, training, and personnel.
Which means I know less than nothing. I’m fighting blind.
We shuffle forward, two men behind me, two in front, as Dimitri opens the plane door.
In moments, wet, suffocating tropical heat rushes in and settles into my cashmere sweater. My skin goes clammy. Nausea rolls up my spine. Thankfully, my stomach is too empty to participate.
A heady combination of sea salt, vegetation, and decay that always lingers in jungles wafts through my nose. I catch the smallest hint of hot engines and exhaust, indicating this airstrip is rarely used.
For a moment, I swear I smell burning buildings, gun smoke, and blood.
Part of me wishes I was back in my memories. Even that horror would be better than my current reality.
Bird calls echo through the open door as my guards hit the airstrip. Pushed from behind, I stumble into the harsh sunlight. My snow boots clang on the metal stairs and an unseen hand grasps my arm, pulling me forward as I struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Blue and green spots cloud my vision, so I keep my head down, concentrating on my footing and avoiding direct light. I spotted it on our approach, but deboarding without any airport staff is still strange.
No one’s around to ask questions as I reach the broken cement and am immediately shoved into the idling SUV.
Dimitri sits up front, with Anton at the wheel.
Yakov drags me into a seat in the back, beside one of the others wearing wide sunglasses that hide his face. I don’t miss the perpetual snarl or the muscular build that brings Sylvester Stallone to mind. I’d rather face off with Sly than this asshole any day.
Once both SUVs are loaded up, we take off. The AC in the vehicle blasts through my sweat-damp sweater. I shiver, missing the thick, humid heat already.
On such a small island, spanning end to end doesn’t take long, but I’m still jarred when we screech to a halt minutes later.
The door flings open. Beyond the SUV, I spy only the edge of the road and the thick tangle of jungle starting to encroach on crumbling asphalt.
Yakov gets out as Sly shoves my back.
I slide out between them, still adjusting to the sunlight, and try to figure out what the hell we’re doing here.
Maybe they brought me here to kill me. I’ve screwed up so many times. And with Max gone…
Maybe we can be together in the next life.
I just need to get my hands on Dimitri one last time. Put him out of his miserable existence.
Except my half-brother doesn’t spare me a glance as he exits the vehicle. Instead, he confidently moves ahead, clad in hiking boots that match his khaki pants and loose short sleeve shirt.
He aims for a small break in the vegetation, certain of his direction.
It’s not until I’m pulled along behind him that I spy the wooden stake pounded into the damp earth with a faded plastic flag. A marker for the path we’re following.
Of course. This was always the destination. The endpoint. I just don’t know why.
I follow him blindly, much like I’ve done for more than half of my life. Now, I’m letting him lead me to my inevitable doom.
Just what I wanted for Christmas.
I realize I’m falling behind when Sly shoves me between my shoulders. Well, we can’t have that.
In my layers of clothing, I’m struggling. My mouth feels like cotton. A bead of sweat runs down my temple.
My boot catches on a hidden root, and I stagger and collapse.
Yakov snags me by the back of my sweater. Nearly choking me, he hauls me back onto my feet, just for Sly to give me another helpful push to keep walking.
The path steepens as mud gives way to stone steps. I’m at least ten feet in before I even notice the change in texture under my boots.
This isn’t some random trail. Someone maintained this and built it up. The higher we go, the farther we get from civilization, and the better the trail gets.
By the time we hit first switchback, it’s wide enough for two to walk side by side, and the landing has a small bench tucked out of sight from the road far below.
Dimitri pauses, ordering Anton to bend down and tie his unlaced boot. I take this opportunity to enjoy the cool breeze from the water and observe the island.
In the distance, I spot the old resort. Or at least what’s left of the burned foundations, collapsed roofs, and vine-covered ruins. Still, the shapes remain, matching my memories.
The restaurant. The hotel. Dots of structures that used to be separate cabins. And of course, the beach.
There’s the path where I found Mom’s body. The bushes have grown tall and wild, surrounded by a jungle that creeps closer every year.
Dimitri glances back and spies where I’m staring.
He smiles, teeth blinding white against his bruised skin.
“Where we first met. That day is one of the happiest of my life. But we have to keep moving. Not much farther, Boss.” The endearment has become a mockery, reminding me of every lie I believed without question.
I spin away from the view of my past, not wanting to confront the memory of the scared, grieving girl struggling to deal with the trauma of her mother’s death.
Up, up, and up the stony stairs she climbed…
The words surface unbidden in my dedushka’s voice, a man who loved me unconditionally.
I recall the line from one of the stories he would tell me at bedtime about a princess climbing stone stairs up a mountain.
She searched for treasure—or maybe magic—that would help her father strengthen his kingdom so much that no outsiders would ever dare to attack or invade.
Of course, the princess’s story had a happy ending, because that’s what children’s stories do.
“Up, up, and up the stony stairs she climbed. And behind green vines, with the glittering blue sea stretched out behind her, the stone door appeared…”
I was so enthralled with the story that I’d asked my father if it was true. He’d laughed and shaken his head.
But I still remember dedushka’s face behind my father’s back and that knowing smile. And I’d always wondered.
Now, on the stone stairs, surrounded by vines, I have to ask myself that question again.
Was the story real? A fairy-tale version of reality?
Or a hidden secret like the one we sent to that archivist, Paige?
Did she and the other women go through similar experiences when I used them? If so, I deserve every moment of this captivity and more. I’m nearly as bad as Dimitri.
Okay, maybe I’m not that bad. I’d still rather throw myself off a cliff than fuck a half-sibling.
But if the story was about something real, how would Dimitri know?
Then I remember. When I was a child, coloring at his table as part of my therapy to “get all the bad memories out,” I’d told him the story dedushka told me.
I recounted so many others.
Dimitri knows every secret from my past, probably even ones I’ve long forgotten. Final proof that all his actions were a means to an end.
I lift a foot, put it down, and stumble.
There’s no next step. The stone ahead of me lies flat, running all the way to a vine-covered cliff face that rises toward the sky.
Confused, I glance around. The six goons have spread around this open space. To the east and west, the sky is open. We’ve traveled far above the canopy.
Behind green vines, with the glittering blue sea stretched out behind her…
It’s real.
It’s actually real.
Yakov and Sly drift aside as Dimitri comes for me.
“It’s finally time.” His fingers dip under the neckline of my sweater, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.
I’m ready to run off the edge of the stone platform and end it all, but his fingers encase the chain on my neck and pull out the locket.
With a jerk, he snaps the necklace, and I feel the loss of the locket’s weight.
Dimitri gestures to the wall. Four of the men rush forward, grabbing vines and ripping them free to expose a massive stone door.
Just like dedushka said.
But my grandfather never mentioned the key-shaped depression in the middle of the door. Dimitri pushes my locket into the stone. Metal scrapes. Somewhere behind the door, rock grinds and groans.
Dimitri pivots to me, his expression triumphant. “Your grandfather was a clever man, hiding this in plain sight. Making it some bedtime story. Ensuring only family would know.”
I flinch back as he reaches for me again, but I’m not fast enough. His hand latches into my hair and twists, reeling me closer. I’m too slow, gasping as pain lances through my scalp and I stumble after him.
“But he didn’t account for you telling your kidnapper exactly where to look,” Dimitri practically singsongs with glee. “Or how you would work so hard to bring me the key, the initial phase in opening the vault containing all the Kozlov treasures.”
This is all my fault. I gave him the story. I helped him get my mother’s locket. I practically killed Max. I weakened Roman. All for whatever’s behind that door that Dimitri desires so badly.
I want to fling myself over the cliff for entirely different reasons now.
His hand tightens against my scalp, and he drags me toward the door. The first step in opening the vault was the locket. The second must be the blood key. Me.
Holding my head, he shoves my face into the vines.