Chapter 4 Wren
CHAPTER FOUR
WREN
Setting down the plates of grilled cheese with black truffle butter and artisanal cheeses in front of Robert and Ivan, I step back inside to grab my own salad, my mouth watering from the delicious smells of the food I don’t get to enjoy.
I take a moment to breathe before joining them on the patio.
Ever since my birthday ten days ago, when we had dinner together, Ivan has joined us for every meal.
His eyes are constantly on me, making my stomach roll with unease.
Since Robert hasn’t arranged any more dates with him, I’m hoping that he finally understands that I don’t want to be with him.
I’m just praying Robert’s business with him will be over soon, but I know better than to ask him; it’s not my place.
Lifting my chin and trying to relax my shoulders, I step back outside and take a seat across from Ivan and beside Robert.
At least this way Ivan can’t touch me. Even an accidental brush of his arm against mine makes my skin prickle.
The man is old enough to be my father, and the more I get to know him, the less attractive he seems to be.
“Wren, we need to leave to take care of some business this afternoon; we’ll be back late. You don’t need to cook dinner for us tonight,” Robert tells me.
I try to hold in my excitement at having a night off, not only from cooking, but from having his eyes on me.
“Okay,” I reply calmly, taking another bite of my salad.
“You can practice that new song Ivan gave you, yes?” he asks, referring to some sheet music Ivan gave me three days ago. It was hard not to groan when he handed it to me. I’d be happy never to touch a piano again.
“Yes, that sounds lovely,” I tell him, lying through my teeth.
“Perhaps tomorrow you can play it for me?” Ivan asks with a smile.
“Of course,” I respond politely, before dipping my eyes back to my plate. I hope Robert will be there too. At least with my brother present, Ivan seems more restrained.
Peeking out the front window, I see the vehicles pull out of our gated property, before they swing back, closing tightly behind them. A squeal escapes me as I jump up and run to the back door.
Yanking it open, I don’t even make sure it closes before I run out into the backyard in my bare feet. I smile, tilting my head up to the sky and twirling in circles, my arms wide as I soak in the short freedom.
Next, I do a couple of cartwheels before throwing myself down on my back, feeling the fresh cut grass between my fingers. It’s not like I can’t go outside when Robert’s home, it’s just that he’s always telling me to act ladylike, and he’d be really angry if he saw me right now.
Lifting my head, I notice a couple of guards patrolling the perimeter, as usual.
But with Robert gone, all his usual guys, like Carlos and Theo, are gone with him.
The skeleton crew he leaves with me is my favorite.
I don’t even know their names. But they don’t look at me, or speak to me, and it’s a reprieve from the constant stares of his close-knit group, who feel like they’re watching my every move.
When I feel like I’ve got enough sunlight, I head back inside and debate what to do next with my small amount of freedom.
Once, last year, I found a music player in Robert’s office. I might have been snooping for some snacks or games when I came across the small device. It didn’t take me more than five minutes to figure out what it was when music streamed from the small earpieces attached to it.
Of course, I had put it back where I found it, terrified of what he’d say if he knew I had snooped in his office.
But he’ll be gone for at least a few hours tonight. I grin wildly, an idea coming to mind. I’ll bring it to my ballet studio, and instead of pirouettes and pliés, I’ll dance the way I want for once.
The hallway to his office is clear, and I quickly make my way there and slip inside, unseen.
I move behind his desk and open the bottom drawer, where I found the music player last year.
At first, all I see are a bunch of folders.
I pull up the edges of some of them to see if it’s hiding underneath, but several fall out, spilling onto the floor.
“Darn it!” I grumble, kneeling to pick up the pages.
I glance at them, wanting to make sure I put them back in the correct folders. “This one looks like shipping info,” I whisper to myself. One folder is labeled transfers, so I slide it in there.
I grab another page. “More shipping in—” I cut myself off as my name catches my attention.
Frowning, I try to read the rest of the page. It’s been written in cursive by someone with messy writing, but I can mostly make it out.
05/28 — $350,000 -transferred
06/10 — 1,000 AK47 -delivered
07/12 — $400,000 -transferred
08/02 — 1,500 AK-47 -delivered
08/08 — Wren Rivers - TBT
12/06 — 2,500 chyornyy ozhog
My brain freezes, not understanding what I’m reading. What does that even mean? The fourth line has today’s date on it. Isn’t an AK-47 a type of gun?
And why is my name on this? What does TBT mean? Using the other lines as context, a pit starts to grow in my stomach. Could that mean… to be transferred? To where? The date listed beside it is only six days from now.
The last line, with a December date, has the Russian translation of Robert’s last name, Blackburn. Was he getting transferred too? Or did that mean he was getting 2,500 guns on that date?
I flip the page over, but there’s nothing else. I look at the other pages in the folder, but most are nondescript. That is, until a small scrap of paper falls from the pile, landing on my knee. I shove the others back into the folder and pick up the slightly crumpled, handwritten note.
IS will send the subsequent three shipments (guns + parts) through the usual channels. First batch arrives by mid-June. Payment: $350k up front, another $400k a month later, followed by the second batch at the beginning of August.
RB will transfer WR to IS and the new batch to be sent through upon completion at the end of year. Wedding to take place in RUS.
My fingers tremble as I re-read the note. WR, that was me. RB must be Robert, and IS… must be Ivan Sokolov. But that can’t be right… My brother would never trade me, especially for weapons. What’s he going to do with a bunch of guns?
My mind flashes to all the times I’ve noticed the guards with holstered guns. I thought it was to protect us. But he’s buying thousands. Why does he need so many?
I feel the blood slowly drain from my face and place my hands on my cheeks as my mind reels at all the times Robert’s brushed off my interest in the family business. How I’ve noticed some of the guards with busted up knuckles, and how he’s kept me completely isolated from everything.
I pick up the note again and re-read the last line. A Wedding in Russia? Is that what RUS means?
Oh no. No, no, no no no. My brother is giving me to Ivan, to take back to Russia and… marry?!
“Chyort poberi!” I yell in Russian, jumping to my feet in horror.
Unsure what else to do, I shove the note in my pocket, then carefully place all the files back in the drawer.
Even though there aren’t many guards inside the house, I try not to run and to look calm.
I don’t want to alert anyone to my sudden change in emotion, even if I am freaking out on the inside.
Knowing that I need some water before locking myself in my room, I head to the kitchen, noticing the mail on the counter. I run over, and my heart leaps at the sight of a letter addressed to me. I grab it along with a bottle of water and sprint up to my room, unable to slow myself down any longer.
Closing my door, I lock it quickly and shove a chair under the handle for good measure. Not feeling even close to remotely safe anymore.
I jump on my bed and rip open the envelope. Jagger’s letter rests on top and I pick it up, hoping that reading it will help calm my nerves.
Hello, my tiny flame,
I read your words over and over until they blurred.
Your pain struck me deeper than any sentence a judge could hand down.
Your brother doesn’t deserve someone as loyal and kind as you.
You deserved celebration, not absence. He does not know what it means to have you.
He does not see the light he overlooks. I would never forget.
Even here, behind these bars, I carry you etched into me like scripture.
And this man—Ivan. You must not trust him.
Stay far away from him. If he makes you feel uncomfortable, then he’s not worthy of your time, your presence.
He may attempt to court you, but he will never endure you.
He will never survive the storm of who you are.
I have already given my life to that storm.
I am already buried deep in it. And here in this cage, where I will rot and vanish, you are the one thing I keep alive inside me. You are my fire, Wren.
I may be the one behind bars, but you’re in a cage, too, my tiny flame. I wish you could see what we see. That your brother is keeping you from the world, not saving you from it. You were not made to settle, Wren. You were made to thrive, to live.
I would give my life if it meant getting to see you, just once. If there were any way out of here, a way to come and take you away from them, I would take it.
As always, I eagerly await your next letter, knowing there’s nothing else here that brings light to my life anymore.
You may not be mine, tiny flame, since I’m stuck here until my last breath.
But I will always be yours.
Jagger
I grab a tissue, blowing my nose as I try to clear the tears from my eyes. I’m such a mess, but their letters always do that to me. It’s like forbidden love. I pine for them with my every breath, just as they seem to do for me.
But at least I’m free.
Are you, though?
I re-read the part about me being in a cage created by Robert.
They’ve said things like this many times over the past nine months.
But I always brush it off. Robert’s always been kind to me; he’s never physically hurt me, not really.
He rarely ever yells; he only raises his voice if I step out of line.
And I’m sure I see fondness when he looks at me.
He constantly tells me he loves me and that he likes having me here with him.
Then why is he trading you like livestock?
Has he been fooling me this whole time? Has he been trying to mold me into some perfect bride? The perfect wife? How long has he been planning this? What else has he been keeping from me?
I lift my head and stare at my closed door, wishing there was some way to get information about the real world. Robert owned a laptop, but he took that with him. I know he gets information on his phone, but again, that will be with him.
My mind flashes to how my best friend had tried to tell me something the last time we spoke, years ago. Of course, Robert hadn’t let us talk alone since we were twelve years old, telling me young ladies always needed a chaperone.
Was that a lie, too?
I think about how Ivan always seemed amused by my responses. I thought he was impressed by me, but maybe he was impressed by how much Robert had shaped me for him.
Oh god!
Did Robert stop me from dating to force me to stay chaste... For Ivan?
I jump off my bed and run to the bathroom, just in time to hurl into the toilet. My stomach rolls as comments and lessons from the past twenty years replay in my mind like some sort of horrific montage.
“I can’t believe he did this to me,” I whisper in shock. It takes me another ten minutes to get back on my feet. I brush my teeth and drink some water before moving back to my bed, staring down at the unread letters from my guys.
Tears form in my eyes as I realize what I have to do.
“I need to run,” I whisper, my fingers ghosting over their letters.
And that means I’ll never hear from them again. I won’t be able to give them a return address; it’s too risky that Robert would find me when I disappear.
With a plan forming in my mind, I sit at my desk and grab a fresh piece of paper, writing as fast as I can, knowing I only have a couple of hours before Robert and Ivan return. If I don’t go now, I might not have another chance before my transfer date.
I sign my name, shove the letter, along with the stolen note from my pocket, into the envelope, address it, grab a stamp from my desk drawer, and stick it in the corner.
After that, it takes me ten minutes just to find a bag to take with me, since I’ve never owned one myself. The one I grab is from the corner of the laundry room. It’s pretty beaten up, but it looks like I can place it over my head and sling it across my body.
Staring into my open-concept closet, with no door, I debate what to take.
All I have are dresses, since Robert told me that’s all that women wear.
I grab two that I think won’t take up much space, then shove in a few handfuls of bras, underwear, and socks.
I slip on my ballet flats before grabbing a brush, deciding not to pack any makeup. In fact….
I scrub my face clean, deciding that going makeup-free will help disguise me better. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, then gaze around my room.
“What else?” I whisper as I try to figure out my next steps. I go back to my closet and grab the box of letters from the guys I have hidden in the back. When it won’t fit into my bag, I pull out one of the dresses to make room. Because priorities.
Trying to think through my options, I realize I can’t drive, I have no ID, and no money… Money.
I know exactly where to find a little bit of cash, I just hope it’s enough. I move as quietly as I can back to Robert’s office. He keeps a safe in the wall behind a painting. He showed me once, and now I wonder why he bothered. To give me a false sense of security?
I spin the dial and let out a breath of relief when it clicks open. Inside is a stack of bills. I’ve never paid for anything in my life. I give the grocery list to one of the guards, Max, who orders them for me, and I’ve never been to a store before. Hopefully, this is enough to help me disappear.
I shove the money into the bottom of my bag, then pull out a few smaller bills to put in my dress pocket for easy access.
Making sure I have my letter and my bags done up tight, I move on to the most challenging part of my plan. Escaping our property without being seen.