43. Tayana
43
TAYANA
T he truth, like a shadow in the corner of the room, is closing in.
I shift my gaze between the two men—Igor, his cold blue eyes glinting with triumph, and my father, Anton, whose hard-edged jaw looks as though it might crack under the weight of whatever storm is brewing between them.
“Someone better start explaining,” I say, my voice sharp, slicing through the tension.
Neither of them answers. Their eyes are locked on each other like combatants preparing for the final blow, a silent war raging between them. Anton’s soldiers, their rifles trained on Igor, seem to fade into the background as the weight of whatever is about to be said presses down on the cabin like a stone.
Igor is the first to break the silence. He tilts his head slightly, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. “So, you set this whole thing up,” he says, his tone casual, but there’s venom beneath it.
Anton doesn’t flinch. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your money back,” he replies evenly.
Igor lets out a low, humorless laugh. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
My stomach churns. Their words are circling something, something big and ugly, and I don’t know if I’m ready to face it. But I’m sick of being left in the dark.
“Then what are you worried about?” I demand, stepping forward. My voice rises, the frustration bubbling over. “Enough of this! What the hell is going on?”
Igor’s head snaps toward me, and for a moment, his expression softens. But then he turns back to Anton, his fury boiling to the surface. “She has to come back to Russia,” Igor says, his voice low and firm, like it’s not up for debate. “Where we can protect her.”
“Protect me from what?” I snap, my patience threadbare.
Anton steps forward, putting himself between me and Igor. His presence is commanding, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—fear? Guilt? “She doesn’t have to do anything, Igor,” he says, his tone steady but laced with steel.
“She must come home,” Igor insists, his voice rising.
“This is crazy!” I throw my hands up, pacing the narrow aisle of the plane like a caged animal. My chest tightens, my heart pounding against my ribs. “You’re both insane!”
I stop pacing as Igor reaches for my arm. His touch is light, almost hesitant, but I flinch away instinctively. The reaction is instant, visceral. His face twists with anger, and he whirls on my father, the fury pouring out of him like a dam breaking.
“See what you’ve done!” Igor screams, his voice cracking with emotion. “You made her hate her own father!”
The air is sucked out of the room.
I stare at Igor, my mind reeling. The words don’t compute, like hearing a foreign language for the first time. “What...?”
Neither of them speaks. I look between them, my breathing shallow, panic clawing at the edges of my mind. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”
Anton closes his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself for a blow. When he opens them, there’s a deep, unbearable sadness in his gaze. “Tayana, it’s not?—”
“Tell her!” Igor roars, cutting him off. He steps closer, his face contorted with rage and something deeper—something I can’t name. “You owe her the truth!”
Anton’s jaw tightens. His hands clench into fists at his sides, the veins in his neck straining. “Not like this,” he says through gritted teeth.
Igor doesn’t back down. “There’s no other way. She deserves to know.”
“Know what?” I yell, my voice echoing in the confined space. My throat feels raw, my chest heaving. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Igor turns to me, his expression softening. For the first time, I see something in him I didn’t think he was capable of—vulnerability. “Tayana,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “He’s not your father.”
The world tilts beneath me.
“What?” I whisper, barely able to get the word out.
Anton steps forward, his hands raised as if to steady me. “Tayana, listen to me?—”
But I can’t. I can’t process what I’m hearing. My vision blurs, my legs trembling beneath me. I stagger back, away from both of them.
Igor doesn’t stop. His voice grows stronger, more insistent. “He lied to you your whole life. He let you believe?—”
“Enough!” my father roars, his voice shaking the cabin.
But it’s too late.
Igor looks me straight in the eye, his expression a mix of triumph and sorrow. “I’m your father, Tayana.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckle, and I grab the armrest of a nearby seat to keep from collapsing.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, you’re lying.”
“I wish I were,” Igor says softly.
Anton takes another step toward me, his face etched with anguish. “Tayana, I can explain?—”
“Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off. My voice is shaky, but there’s a steel edge to it now. “Don’t say another word.”
The cabin falls into silence, the tension thick enough to choke on.
I turn away from both of them, my mind racing, my heart shattering into a million pieces. Everything I thought I knew about my life, my family—it’s all been a lie. All my doubts, all my insecurities, everything I knew now had to be reassessed. But instead of putting things into perspective, instead of giving me a clearer focus, I’m more confused than ever, and I feel more unwanted, more unloved than I ever have. How can a girl possibly have two fathers and not be raised by either?
And as the plane sits motionless on the tarmac, I realize that I’ve never felt more lost in my life.
“Is this why you sent me away? Is this why it was so easy for you to toss me away?” My eyebrows are knitted in confusion as I look at Anton. “You know what? Don’t answer that question. I don’t think I want to know.”
“Tayana…”
“No. You two are cooked. I always thought it, but now I know it! You’re fucked in the head, with these wicked little games you play!” I scream. “What about that poor woman out there with a fucking bomb strapped to her body! Did you even think what that would do to her? Did you even consider the damage you were inflicting upon her? She almost died today! DIED! ”
“You need to calm the fuck down,” Igor says, from his seat in front of me. I’ve been standing before the two of them, ranting and raving for the past five minutes, until Igor slumps into a chair, aging almost ten years as he looks at me mournfully.
“Don’t tell me what I need to do, daddy !” I’m near hysterical as I scream at him. “Disarm and unstrap the fucking bomb off her – now!”
Igor nods in the direction of one of the men, and I watch as the man walks toward Maxine, who’s watching us with some interest, and explains to her what he’s going to do.
She lifts her shirt, eyes still glued to us, as he goes to work on the belt, unstrapping it and tossing it in a nearby waste bin.
“That’s it?” I ask the soldier. “No danger of it exploding and knocking this damn thing out of the sky?”
The soldier laughs then shoots me a smirk. “It’s a stopwatch,” he tells me. “There was never really any danger.”
“I can’t fucking believe this,” I mutter, as I turn away from the two men and walk towards Maxine, who looks at me in complete and utter disbelief as I approach her.
“I don’t know whether I feel more sympathy for you or for myself,” she says, lifting her eyebrows in confusion. “This is a lot.”
She rubs at her wrists, as though smoothing away a tension that’s been sitting there for months.
“I somehow think your situation was worse, Maxine, but you’ve come out the other end stronger for it.”
She gives me a weak smile, but it’s the truest one I’ve seen from her so far.
“What’s going to happen now?” she asks.
“Well, you’re going to go home. You’re safe now.”
“Home…” she whispers. And I know she’s wondering where home is. Mia had told me all about how the girls became homeless before they went missing. Maxine has gone through some massive changes; she’ll need all the help she can get, and I know that Mia is waiting for her.
“Your family is waiting for you, Maxine. I’ll make arrangements for you to reunite with them as soon as possible.”
She grabs my hand, squeezes it reassuringly, as though afraid to let me go.
“What about you, Tayana?”
“What about me?”
“What’s going to happen to you?”
I lift my gaze and skirt it down the aisle to where Anton and Igor are discussing something in hushed tones. More like arguing in hushed tones, but they can kill each other for all the fucks I give at this point.
“Me too, Maxine. It’s time for me to go home, too.”