25. Katya
25
KATYA
I t’s been so long since I let myself indulge that I almost forgot what it feels like to be free of responsibility. A shopping spree on Madison Avenue, lined with glittering storefronts flaunting five-thousand-dollar handbags, feels like stepping into another world. A champagne brunch, luxury spa facials—today I’m being treated like a princess.
An amazing life.
Only, it feels empty.
I miss Sofiya.
Nikolai and Katarina picked her and Damien up earlier to take them to Lev’s birthday party. It’s her first slumber party, and there’s no better way for her to spend it than with family. She’ll have the time of her life, I’m sure. But knowing that doesn’t make me miss her any less.
Shopping keeps me distracted for a while, but even that only works for so long. Hours later, the weight of silence presses down on me. Maybe I’ll have another glass of champagne before heading home to listen to Igor’s inevitable lecture. I can already hear it: Don’t sneak out without a proper escort. I only agree to the security detail for Sofiya’s sake. With her gone for the night, there’s no reason to keep a shadow following me around.
“Have it sent to this address, please,” I say to the cashier after handing over my card for a Hermès purse.
“Of course, miss,” she replies, her customer service smile bright and polished as she processes the purchase.
I step outside, giddy for just a moment as I reach for my phone. The screen lights up with an incoming call. It’s Igor. My finger hovers over the green button for far too long, but in the end, I turn the phone off.
Avoiding him might not be the best strategy, but right now, it’s the healthiest one I can think of. After what happened last night—after the things he said and the way he looked at me—I’m not ready to face him. I wouldn’t even know how to meet his eyes without unraveling all over again.
Possessive asshole.
Demanding idiot.
The street feels less stifling. For a moment, I consider hailing a cab, but my feet carry me forward on their own. Movement will clear my head.
That’s when I notice the black SUV pulling up beside me.
A window rolls down, and a deep voice calls out, “Hey, miss. Do you need a ride?”
I turn, prepared to politely wave them off, but the sight of ski masks freezes me in place.
This can’t be happening.
As the passenger door swings open, I jerk out of my haze and try to run, a scream stuck in my throat. But it’s too late. Large hands grab me and yank me into the car, my body hitting the floor with a hard thud. The world tilts, my head spinning as I look up and meet the cold, dark eyes of the man looming above me.
His gaze is almost bored, like he’s done this a thousand times before.
This is the end.
The thought echoes in my head like a bad line from an action movie, but there’s no denying the reality of it. When something hard strikes my skull, pain explodes through me, white-hot and searing. My vision blurs. My muscles go limp.
And then—darkness.
When I come to, I’m lying on cold asphalt. The stench of rotting trash fills my nostrils, sharp and stinging, pulling me further into consciousness. I blink, squinting as my surroundings begin to take shape. I’m in a back alley, the narrow walls of the buildings on either side pressing in like a cage.
Where am I?
Fragments of memory come rushing back. The SUV. The ski masks. The hands grabbing me. But nothing about how I ended up here, dumped on the ground like garbage. My head throbs, and the ache in my skull makes it hard to think clearly.
“Yo, she’s awake.”
The voice comes from somewhere close, low and amused. I barely have time to process it before a figure appears above me.
A boot presses down on my stomach, hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
“Took you long enough,” the man hisses, his face hidden behind a ski mask. “It’d be a lot of fun to shoot you right now.”
A small whimper escapes my lips, my throat too dry and raw to make a proper sound. Tears blur my vision, pooling at the corners of my eyes and streaking down the sides of my face.
The barrel of a gun fills my vision, the cold metal hovering just inches from my forehead.
Point blank.
This is how it ends.
But then the man smirks, tilting his head. “It’s your lucky day,” he says mockingly. “Because this is just a warning.”
His words feel like acid, burning into me even as my limbs twitch with the faintest traces of returning strength. My mind races, desperate to think of a way out. If I let him keep talking, maybe I can buy enough time to… to do something.
But then a firm hand clamps around my ankle, yanking me across the asphalt. My skin scrapes against the rough surface, burning and tearing.
“No one escapes the sins of their past,” the man growls, leaning closer. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and every atom in my body seizes.
“If you ever want to be with a real man ...” he trails off, his unfinished sentence leaving too much to my imagination. A nasty laugh follows, echoing in the narrow alley as he straightens up.
“Time’s up,” another voice calls, deeper and more impatient.
“Let’s go,” my attacker agrees, stepping away from me. But before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder, sending me an air kiss. “See you around, Katya.”
And then he’s gone.
I scramble to my feet, every muscle trembling. My head spins, and my vision wavers as I watch the SUV peel away, its tires screeching against the asphalt. They could’ve killed me, but they didn’t. And that scares me even more.
Breathing hard, I stumble toward the nearest building, swiping the back of my hand under my nose. Blood smears across the white sleeve of my jacket. I’m not sure how much time has passed or how long I’ve been gone. Is Igor looking for me? Sofiya? The questions pile up, threatening to crush me, but I can’t focus on any of them.
I push open the door to a convenience store, fluorescent lights flickering above me. Dust and grime cling to my skin, and the young cashier stares at me, wide-eyed and terrified.
“Please,” I choke out, tears streaming down my face. “Help me.”
And then, as quickly as the adrenaline came, it drains away, leaving me swaying and unsteady. I falter, my body giving in to the pain and fear.
“What happened, miss?” the cashier asks, her voice shaky.
I can’t respond. My legs give out completely, and I collapse to the floor, the cold tile pressing against my knees. I take a shallow, shuddering breath and glance toward the open storefront, expecting someone— anyone —to rush in.
No one comes. Not yet.
“I’m going to call for help,” the woman announces, her hand already reaching for the phone on the counter.
The word help feels so distant, like it’s being spoken through water. My mind struggles to grasp it, to hold on to something solid, but I can’t seem to focus.
Finally the dam breaks, and the tears I’ve been holding back spill freely down my cheeks. They burn hot against my cold skin, blurring my vision, and my chest shakes with silent sobs. I hear her muffled voice as she speaks into the receiver, the tones too fragmented for me to piece together.
She called 911.
Good.
I can’t stop crying. I can’t move. I’m so tired. Every part of me feels like it’s been wrung out and left to dry.
I want to rest. Just for a moment.
So I let go.
The world blurs around me, and time starts slipping away. The sound of the cashier’s voice fades into nothing, swallowed by the steady pull of unconsciousness. My body feels weightless, floating, as I drift further and further into a sea of blackness.
And then there’s nothing.