Chapter Seventeen - Jessa #2
When I finally stand, I move through the motions like a ghost. I brush my hair, wash my face, fold the blanket back over the bed. I try to find comfort in routine, in the small acts of care that used to anchor me. Nothing works. The fear sits in my chest, heavy and unmoving.
I lie awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, counting the minutes. I replay every moment with Markian, searching for proof that I matter, that I’m safe. His words—spoken to others, never to me—echo louder than any memory.
“If you betray him. If you get boring. He’d kill you.”
I curl tighter into myself, hands protectively covering my belly. I tell myself I’m strong, that I’ll find a way out. For me. For this child.
As the hours tick by and the city outside remains silent and indifferent, I realize I am more alone than I have ever been.
The night stretches on, endless and merciless. I wait for dawn, praying for courage, praying for hope, praying for a future that feels farther away with every heartbeat.
***
Dawn creeps into the sky, coloring the city in streaks of dull silver and washed-out blue. I haven’t slept. How could I?
The words from last night, spoken by Alina and echoing in my mind, have left me too raw for rest. The weight of that knowledge has become a cold, hard stone in my chest.
I sit by the window, knees hugged to my chest, eyes fixed on the world beyond the glass.
The manor behind me is quiet, a dark shape in the fading night.
There’s a moment, just before the sun fully rises, when I let myself grieve, not just for what I’m about to lose, but for every moment I thought I might be safe here.
I can’t risk my life, or my child’s, on the hope that Markian’s rare flashes of tenderness will save us.
Not when his ruthlessness is just as real, just as constant, just as absolute.
My decision is made. I stand, breath shallow, and move quickly to the dresser. I keep my motions quiet, deliberate.
The house is still, thick with the hush of early morning. I take out the small bag I’ve hidden behind a stack of folded sweaters. It isn’t much, just enough.
Some cash I tucked away over the last few weeks, a single change of clothes, and at the very bottom, wrapped in tissue, the pregnancy test. I press it to my chest for a moment, then drop it into the bag, the plastic suddenly feeling impossibly heavy.
My hands shake as I move about the room, gathering what little I can. I trace my fingers over the edge of the silk sheets—cool, luxurious, a reminder of nights tangled up in pleasure and pain. I glance at the bookshelf, crowded with novels I read to keep the world at bay.
There are photographs on the wall, faded and lovely. Landscapes, nothing personal, but I try to imprint them in my memory anyway. This room has been my prison and my haven. I take a shaky breath, letting it settle inside me. I don’t want to forget, but I know I must.
A soft knock comes at the door, so soft I almost miss it. I tense, but when it opens, it’s only Alina, slipping inside like a shadow. She’s dressed in her plain work dress, hair braided back. She closes the door behind her and looks at me with wide, worried eyes.
“Are you really leaving?” she whispers.
I nod. “I have to. I can’t stay here, not after last night. Not after everything.” My voice wobbles, but I hold her gaze. “I can’t risk it. Not for me, not for—” I pause, one hand on my belly. “Not for the baby.”
She crosses the room in two quick steps and hugs me, hard.
For a moment I can barely breathe, but it’s the only comfort I’ve had in days.
“Wait,” she whispers, pulling away. She disappears into the corridor, returns a moment later with a handful of coins and a worn Metro card.
“You’ll need this. If you can, take the west stair.
The guards are laziest there. Go out the laundry door; it doesn’t squeak. ”
I nod, fighting tears. “Thank you, Alina. For everything. If you ever need help—”
She shakes her head. “Just stay alive, okay? For both of you.”
I squeeze her hand, then sling my bag over my shoulder. Every motion feels surreal, my heart thudding in my ears. Alina peeks out the door, scanning the hallway, then nods for me to go.
I move through the house on bare feet, shoes in hand, trying to be nothing more than a shadow. The corridor is bathed in weak sunlight, the portraits on the walls staring down at me as I pass. I pause at the top of the staircase, listening for voices.
There’s no sign of Lui, the guards, even Markian himself. There’s nothing. Just the slow tick of a grandfather clock and the distant sound of someone washing up in the kitchen.
I take the servants’ staircase, each step careful, controlled. My breath comes short and fast, pulse racing. Every footfall feels like a countdown. My mind jumps to what could go wrong: a door opening, a shout, a strong hand grabbing my arm.
I force myself forward.
At the bottom of the stairs, the air is colder. The laundry smells like soap and wet fabric. Alina was right—the west side is empty, the old door’s latch loose. I push it open, slipping outside just as the first rays of sunlight warm the stone.
I pause in the shadow of the house, my breath misting in the morning chill. The manor stands tall and beautiful behind me. I take it in, imprinting the sharp lines of the roof, the glint of the windows, the way the gardens stretch toward the city.
For a heartbeat, I think of running back, of throwing myself into Markian’s arms and begging him to choose love over violence.
I know better. I know who he is. I know what he does to people who disappoint him.
With a trembling exhale, I slip through the narrow gate, shoes clutched to my chest. The street is waking up, the city alive with the promise of anonymity. I take a final look at the manor, feeling a strange ache in my heart. A goodbye to something that was never really mine.
Alina appears at a window above, watching, and for a second our eyes meet.
She gives me a tiny nod. I nod back, then turn and hurry into the city, every step a victory, every breath sharp with hope and terror.
I don’t know where I’m going, only that I have to keep moving, for myself and for the child growing inside me.
For the first time in months, I am truly free… and truly afraid.