Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
AVELINA
The concrete floor is cold and unforgiving beneath my cheek.
My ribs scream with each shallow breath as I curl tighter into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“Get up!” Gennady’s voice booms above me, echoing off the training facility walls. “You think this is a game? You think you can half-ass your routine and fucking waste my time?”
His boot connects with my ribs again. I bite back my cry. I’ve learned not to make noise because it only makes him angrier.
“I’ve seen toddlers with more backbone than you!” he snarls. “You’re thirteen, not three. So, fucking act like it!”
I try to push myself up, my arms shaking with the effort. My auburn hair falls in my face, matted with sweat and tears.
“You want to compete? You want to represent your country? Then you better learn what real training looks like!” Another brutal kick, this one to my stomach. “Champions don’t cry. Champions don’t give up. Champions don’t lie on the floor like pathetic little orphans!”
The word ‘orphan’ cuts deeper than his boots ever could. Because that’s all I am to him. A throwaway child with no one to protect her.
“Again!” he barks. “Get on that ice and fucking do it again until you get it right. And if you fall one more time, you’ll be sleeping on this concrete floor for the rest of the month.”
My legs wobble as I stand, every muscle in my small body protesting.
But I nod, keeping my eyes down. “Yes, Coach.” I try to tug down at my dress.
It’s too small, but I try to straighten where it gathers.
I’m beginning to think they deliberately give us dresses that are too tight.
Because then they have ammunition when they tell us that we’re “too fat” and that’s the reason our jumps aren’t high enough.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Coach Gennady,” I say louder, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.
“Better. Now move, you stupid cunt…!”
My eyes snap open, heart hammering against my ribs. It was just a nightmare! But Gennady’s voice still echoes in my ears. I press my hand to my chest, feeling the phantom ache where his boots used to land.
The room is quiet except for the kids’ soft breathing. Viktor’s room smells like him—something clean and masculine that makes me feel strangely safe despite the violence of my dream.
I don’t know why I keep having these nightmares lately.
Maybe it’s just the stress of the last few weeks catching up with me.
Losing my job, missing Leon while I was away, being back in Russia for the first time since I left as a teenager.
All those buried memories have been stirred up and brought to the forefront of my mind.
Russia was supposed to be behind me. But the moment I stepped off that plane in Moscow, it all came rushing back. The cold, the fear, the constant feeling of being watched and judged and found wanting.
I roll over carefully, not wanting to wake Leon, and check the time on my phone.
Six in the morning. Through the gap in the drapes, I can see the dawn creeping into the sky.
I look around at the room. It’s large and organized.
The sheets and blankets are warm and soft, like the kind that indicates real thought went into it.
Not something I’d think the man capable of.
A soft thud from downstairs tells me someone’s home.
Viktor, probably. I wonder exactly what kind of work keeps him out all night.
I slip out of bed and pad to the window, looking down below.
Viktor’s there, his broad shoulders tense as he speaks quietly into his phone.
Even from here, I can see the weariness in his posture, the way he drags his free hand through his dark hair.
He looks up suddenly, as if sensing my gaze, and our eyes meet through the glass. Something passes between us—a recognition that makes my breath catch. Then he looks away, ending his call with a sharp gesture.
I need to leave. We need to get back to our real life, away from this compound with its armed guards and dangerous men. Away from Viktor and the way he makes me feel things I swore I wouldn’t feel again.
I get the children dressed and ready. Sofia stares longingly at the cat from where she lays. She did it all night too, fascinated with the cat. I smile over at her as Leon tugs on the end of my low ponytail. “Got everything, Sofia?”
Sofia nods, her chin bobbing against her arm as she continues to stare at the cat who lounges on the chair, stretching out her fluffy paws and giving a yawn despite having just woken up.
Our routine has been so messed up over the last few weeks, and Sofia has been a trooper, but I’ll be glad to get her back to her normal schedule.
Viktor appears in the doorway with coffee and what looks like breakfast sandwiches wrapped in paper.
“For the road,” he says simply, setting them on the dresser.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know.” His intense blue eyes meet mine briefly before skittering away. “You’re leaving.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “We should get back. I need to start looking for work, and Sofia needs routine.”
Something flickers across his face—disappointment, perhaps? But it’s gone so quickly I might have just imagined it.
He helps me carry our bags downstairs, his movements efficient and careful. When he reaches for Leon’s car seat, I notice he’s wearing gloves.
“My hands feel cold in the morning,” he explains when he catches me looking.
But I suspect it’s more than that. I’ve noticed how he avoids touch, how he flinched when I put my hand on his arm yesterday.
At my car, Viktor loads everything with military precision while I buckle Leon into his seat. Sofia stands beside me, watching Viktor with that serious expression she gets when she’s processing something new.
When everything’s loaded, Sofia steps forward. “It was nice to meet you, Viktor. Thank you for your hospitality.” My lips quirk as I melt just a little. It’s her way of trying to act normal and natural. Of being like everyone else, and my heart does a little flip at her effort.
“It was nice meeting you too, Sofia. You’re a very smart girl.”
Sofia beams at the compliment, and my heart does something funny in my chest.
“Thank you again for watching Leon for as long as you did,” I say quietly.
He nods in reply.
I’m about to get into the driver’s seat when he stops me. “Wait.” He pulls a business card from his wallet, turns it over, and scribbles something on the back. “Call me if you ever need anything.”
I take the card. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head suddenly, reaching for the card. “Actually, never mind. People only call me when they need weapons or drugs. Why would you ever—”
I tighten my grip on the card, pulling it away from his reach. “I’ll keep it.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise.
Before I can second-guess myself, I rise up on my tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my lips, and he smells like soap and…something uniquely him.
When I pull back, his eyes are wide, one hand lifted halfway to his cheek. He’s stunned, but maybe not in a bad way.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
And I slide into the driver’s seat before I can do something even more foolish.
The drive back to our apartment passes in a blur of desert landscape and Sofia’s chatter about Viktor’s compound. She’s particularly fascinated by the security measures, asking detailed questions about the gates and guards that I deflect as best I can.
I’m feeling lightheaded by the time we reach the city limits. Probably just jet lag catching up with me. Leon’s started fussing too, his little face scrunching up.
I spot a strip mall with a small market and pull in.
As I grab my purse, my hands can’t help going to the card Viktor gave me. I turn it over, expecting to see his number.
And his cell number is there, scrawled in black ink.
But so is something else. A message: I don’t know if our paths will cross in the future. But I do know that I won’t see someone as truly beautiful as you ever again.
My heart starts fluttering too fast like a pair of butterfly wings, and I swallow thickly. I know I won’t see him again, but is it so wrong to wonder what if…?
I run my fingers over his words before slipping the card back into my purse. “Let’s get some water and give Leon some fresh air,” I tell Sofia.
As I unbuckle Leon from his car seat, I find myself wishing Geliy could take both kids for a couple of days so I could recover properly from the trip. But I know better than to hope for that. If he’s gone off on one of his jobs, I probably won’t hear from him for weeks.
He’s unreliable. But more than that, his work is dangerous—for all of us.
I think about that car chase again and how terrified Sofia looked.
I can’t let my children go through something like that ever again.
No, it’s better that I look after the kids myself as much as possible.
The Russia trip was just an exception after I lost my job at the university.
But then I think about Viktor’s gentle hands as he helped with our bags, the kind way he treated Sofia, how he made sure we had food for the road. There’s something different about him, something that calls to me despite every logical reason to stay away.
No. I shake my head firmly as I lift Leon into his stroller. I’ve sworn off dangerous men after my experience with Geliy. I won’t put my children at risk again, no matter what I might or could feel toward Viktor. I know better now. Dangerous men bring dangerous consequences.
And that’s not something I want to expose either of the children to anymore.
Except I did just that last night, didn’t I? I sigh heavily. Viktor and his house full of strapped men were as dangerous as they come.
But…for some reason, not once did I feel uncertain about us being there.
Was I wary? Sure. Did I make sure we didn’t leave that room after Viktor left?
Definitely. But Viktor brought something to the room when he was there.
Something I don’t know how to even begin to describe.
And the way he was soft and gentle with Sofia…
The cool air-conditioning in the market is a relief.
“We definitely need a car with better AC,” I murmur to Sofia, keeping my voice light despite my hammering headache. Even when falling apart, I can’t let my children see the cracks.
She nods seriously, trusting that her mama has everything under control.
We grab bottles of water and some snacks. At the checkout counter, I fumble for my wallet with one hand while keeping hold of Sofia’s hand with the other.
“That’ll be eight-fifty,” the cashier says.
I pull out a ten-dollar bill, but as I hand it over, the world suddenly tilts sideways.
My vision blurs at the edges.
My knees give out.
And the last thing I hear as darkness overtakes me is Sofia’s voice, high and frightened: “Mama, wake up! Please wake up, Mama!”