5. Emily
5
EMILY
“Olivia?” A small voice, filled with disbelief, drifts over.
I whirl around and spot someone huddled in the corner of the basement. In the dim light, she looks smaller than she should. A shaggy wolf cut conceals most of her face, and what little exposed part of her face shows nothing but sharp angles and lines.
But it’s her eyes that catches my attention. They’re a familiar ice-blue.
And the way her lower lip juts out.
I’ve seen it before on someone else.
“Are you?” I ask cautiously. “Alisa?”
At the mention of her name, she looks up, and her hair shakes back, revealing more of her face. Even in the dim light, her resemblance to Konstantin is uncanny. Those ice-blue eyes look at me, confusion clouding her face. Slowly, they roam over my features, and she huddles up again.
“You’re not Olivia,” she whispers and looks away. “Who are you?”
Quickly, I rush over and kneel down in front of her .
“I’m Olivia’s sister. Emily.”
She looks back at me, and it’s hard not to feel like I’m looking at a younger, feminine version of Konstantin. Her eyes narrow as she takes in this information.
“Is this a trick? By Domenico? It has to be a trick. Tell him …” she stammers. “Tell him that I haven’t tried to run. That I won’t try to run anymore. Tell him I’ll do whatever he tells me to do, with whoever and whatever he wants me to do it with.”
My heart breaks as I listen to her stammer in the dim light of the basement. Just what kind of hell has Domenico put this poor girl through?
I reach out and hold her shoulders gently, and she recoils as if my touch is acid.
“Please!” she whisper-cries. “Please! Don’t make me watch! Don’t make me listen anymore! I can’t!”
“Alisa, this isn’t at trick,” I insist. “I’m not someone sent by Domenico to torture you or to make you do things. You have to believe me.”
She finally looks up at me, and wariness swims in her blue eyes. “Do you promise?”
“I do.” I nod. “And I’m as much a prisoner of Domenico’s as you are.”
“Then what’s the point of you even being here?” She wrenches out of my grasp and hugs her knees to her chest, her body shuddering as fresh tears overwhelm her eyes.
“Because your brother is coming for you,” I tell her. “He left from Croatia two days ago. He’s with Gerasim, and he won’t stop until he finds you.”
“Sima’s with him?” She looks up again, and this time, swimming with the wariness of her blue eyes is something else.
Hope .
And the sight of hope in her eyes lights a new fire in me. It burns with both my fury for what Domenico has done to her, but also with an inextinguishable desire to keep her safe.
In this moment, all I want to do is protect her from whatever fresh hell that awaits both of us.
I sit down next to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. This time, she doesn’t shy away from me but leans in, tilting her head until it rests on my shoulder.
“You look just like her …” she whispers. “Like Olivia.”
The mention of my sister sends my nose stinging, and I realize that the one person who might be able to give a clear answer about just what really happened to her right before her death is huddled in the dark with me. A thousand questions yearn for answers inside of me, but I don’t know how I can raise any of them.
Not when Alisa is in this state.
So, instead, I hold her close, shushing into her ear soothingly, rocking her on the cold floor. I’ve never held anyone like this before. Her hair shields her face from me and the only thing I see is the tip of her pink nose.
Finally, she breaks the silence between us. “Your sister took good care of me.”
I turn towards her, my heart hammering at my throat.
“How?” I ask in a breathy voice.
Alisa blinks at me, wondering how she can phrase the next part. She winces slightly, and I realize that I’m crushing her against me. Slowly, I loosen my grip on her shoulder as she takes another deep breath before continuing on.
“She made me meals, and apologized the entire time as she fed me,” she says. “She kept saying she was a terrible cook, but I thought the food tasted just fine.”
The memory of a sink packed with dirty dishes zips into my head. I had a suspicion that there was something wrong with the scene when I first saw it in Olivia’s place. But I brushed it off back then. Now, having this piece of the mystery filled in like a paint-by-numbers, I get a rush of excitement.
But what comes with it is something less pleasant.
“What else happened?” I ask softly, not sure if I’m pushing too hard or not enough.
Alisa tugs at her own hair, fisting the bunches into two pigtails as she buries her face behind them, as if it can hide her from the world. Then, her body starts to shake, and I realize that she’s crying.
“Hey, hey,” I tell her gently as I stroke her arm and pull her closer in to me. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No.” She shakes her head again, and determination seeps into her voice. “No, I have to say it. If you really are her sister, then you deserve to know what she did for me.” She takes a deep breath. “And what those bastards did to her.”
The fluttering in my chest increases and my stomach drops away at those words. Whatever it is she’s about to tell me, it must be horrific. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be in such a distressed state just trying to summon the strength to recall it.
After a few more deep breaths, she turns to me and scrubs away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes get a distant look in them, and she has trouble focusing on me.
Why does this feel so familiar?
“The night Domenico took me, I was sitting in a restaurant in Brooklyn when he came in with a group of his men,” she murmurs. “I didn’t recognize his face, but I recognized his limp. When he ordered everyone else in the restaurant except me to leave, that’s when I knew I was in trouble. ”
“Was Olivia in the restaurant that night?”
“She was.” Alisa nods. “She was working at the bar and tried to tell Domenico that he can’t just do what he was doing.”
That’s Olivia all right, I tell myself. Never afraid to speak what’s on her mind, no matter how much trouble it’ll get her into.
That’s when I realize why this feels familiar.
Olivia used to comfort me like this. Her presence since childhood was a godsend whenever she’d drape her arm over my shoulder when I was upset, gently telling me that I’ll be alright.
And here I am now, comforting Alisa in the same way.
“The look on Domenico’s face when he saw Olivia speak up against him … I thought he was going to kill her,” she murmurs. “But then he just started laughing, along with the rest of the men.”
Fidgeting, she pulls her legs closer to her chest, and places her chin on top of her knees. She reminds me so much of a child.
“He walked over to her, and I can tell she was scared, but she stood her ground anyways.” She gathers herself, air moving rapidly in and out her nose as she recalls that horrible night. “And then he slapped her right across the face. So hard that she started bleeding.”
Oh, Olive … I shut my eyes, fighting back the tears.
“Domenico grabbed both of us and made Olivia lead everyone to her apartment.” She closes her eyes as she continues talking. “Once we arrived, he said that since I was going to be his bride, then it was only right that he gets to …” she starts shaking again.
My heart is beating so fast I’m growing dizzy. Even though she doesn’t say anything, I have an idea for what the next words are.
Alisa clasps a hand over her mouth, like she’s about to throw up. She speaks through the gaps in her fingers. “He said that it was only right he gets to sample the goods.”
I can’t hold my gasp in. “He what?”
Her eyes squeeze shut, and she’s shaking like we’re in the middle of an earthquake. I take her free hand in mine, trying to comfort her, but it doesn’t help.
“Olivia begged him not to,” Alisa continues. “She told him of how scared I looked, and asked him to change his mind. But he refused to be persuaded and kept telling her to stand aside. But she wouldn’t. And realizing that neither of them was going to budge …” She turns to me, and her eyes are full of tears. “She offered herself up in my place.”
I’m clasping my mouth just like Alisa now. Nausea roils through my stomach again.
No! No! No!
My imagination conjures horrific images. Domenico sneering down at my sister. His shark-like eyes are black from edge to edge, and his teeth seem to turn into fangs in my mind. Did Olivia cry? Or did she face her awful fate with the same bravery she always carried with her?
“Domenico agreed, on one condition ….” Alisa chokes on the words. “He made me watch. He ordered one of his men to hold me still so I can’t look away or cover my ears. And the whole time, he kept saying things to me too … about how excited he was to do the same to me. Oh God, the way she screamed. I just?—”
She cuts herself off and starts sobbing. Deep choking sobs that seem to be dragged out of her.
I’m barely fighting back tears myself as I let everything sink in .
“For a whole week,” Alisa resumes once she overcomes her fit of crying. “He’d come back to that apartment. And he never came alone. There would always be another man with him to make sure I was watching. On my final day in New York, he brought multiple men with him, so they could take turns.”
I fight my urge to vomit. I don’t want to hear anymore, but Alisa keeps talking, and I’m forced to listen.
“Right before we left,” she confesses. “Domenico ordered one of his men to bring a syringe.” She pauses, sniffling. “That was the only time I saw Olivia panic. Not when they were raping her, but when they waved that needle in front of her face.”
Of course she would. I think bitterly. She’d been clean this whole time … She wanted to die clean. Instead, they made her die a junkie.
Just like Mom and Dad believed.
Alisa begins crying all over again. Now I understand why she struggled to tell me the details. In her shoes, I could never have managed.
“Afterwards,” she whispers, “when I was brought to Italy, I was scared every day that Domenico would rape me. Without Olivia to protect me anymore, I knew there was nothing stopping him. But he never did. Instead, he would bring down different women with him, and make me watch as he showed me all the horrible things he’ll make me do once we’re married.”
“He never touched you?” I ask gingerly.
“No …” She shakes her head. “I think he preferred the idea that I would always be more afraid of what he could do than what he did do.” She gathers herself, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry if all of this was hard to hear. ”
“Don’t be,” I whisper as I clutch her hand. “This must’ve been harder for you to say. And I’m glad you told me.”
All of this time, I knew that Olivia didn’t commit suicide. No matter what my parents insisted. And although her final days were spent in abject horror, there’s a part of me that’s filled with pride for her.
She faced death with her head held high. She did it to defend someone who couldn’t defend herself. She did it because that’s what big sisters do. Because that’s what she’s done for me since I was a little girl.
She died a hero—a savior—because that’s what she is.
That’s what she’s always been.
Once Alisa’s breathing calms down, she turns to me. “How did you end up here?”
Now, it’s my turn to feel sheepish. But if Alisa is strong enough to tell me the truth, then I owe it to her to reciprocate.
“I’m your sister-in-law,” I answer, feeling my nose sting at the thought of him.
“Really?” The smile spreading across her face is the single bravest thing I’ve ever witnessed. “I never imagined Kostya as one who would get married.”
“Neither did I, if I’m being entirely honest.” I raise my hand and show her the ring still on my finger. “But it’s the truth.”
Is it? That nasty little voice starts up again. Are you really his wife? Or are you just some woman he needed to get what he wants?
And then, right on cue, Alla’s voice joins that voice in my head .
A worthless American whore.
I fight back the two voices pouring venom in my head. Now’s not the time to think about all of my doubts about whether or not Konstantin truly loves me.
He chose me at the wedding, I argue silently. He chose to save me over everyone else. Surely, that has to count for something, right?
Ah, the little voice replies quickly. But how do you know he didn’t do that because he still needed you alive in that moment? He still needed you pregnant, remember? How can you be sure that he won’t just abandon you the moment you have nothing more to offer him?
He won’t, I think bitterly. He can’t.
But the thing is, I don’t know for sure. And that’s been the problem since day one—not just with Konstantin, but for my entire life.
For as long as I can remember, people only care about me if I have something to offer them. First it’s my parents and how I can be used to make them look like the best parents in the world. Then it was one bad relationship after another, culminating with Phil and my expulsion.
And then, the same thoughts that invaded my mind during my dinner with Domenico starts echoing in my head again.
Does Konstantin love me for who I am?
Or does he only love what I can do for him?
I have no good answer to those questions, and I know I can’t dwell on them either. Because if I do, it’ll just send my mind spiraling in a dark cycle that won’t ever stop.
“Emily?” Alisa’s tiny voice brings me out of my thoughts. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just … just shocked that you’re here wi th me. I’ve only ever heard your name. Your brother loved you a great deal. He still does.”
“Because he raised me,” she says with a gentle smile, as if remembering something nice. “He was as close to a father as I’ve ever known. Did he ever tell you what Domenico’s father did to our parents?”
“He did.”
“He blames himself,” she goes on, “for setting our parents’ deaths in motion.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I say, wanting to mitigate the pain I’m sure she feels.
“But it was. ” Alisa glares at me so abruptly I struggle not to recoil from the intensity of her gaze. Yep, she’s definitely related to Konstantin.
Not expecting this, I sit there at a loss for words.
“I love my brother, but acting like his fight with Domenico all those years ago didn’t move Augusto’s hand is ridiculous.” She’s challenging me with her eyes as she continues to talk. “We’re responsible for the effects of our actions.” She sniffles. “Especially Kostya.”
She turns away to stare into the darkness. At this angle, with her strong nose and ice-blue eyes, she looks exactly like him.
“He vowed he’ll take vengeance for their deaths,” she says. “And for all these years, it was our grandmother who stopped him from doing so.”
My breaths come out faster and faster at the mention of Alla. I knew that Alla had her disagreements with Konstantin about almost everything, but this was the death of her son we’re talking about here. She was okay with just letting it go?
But another realization hits me .
All of this was in pursuit of Konstantin’s vows to avenge his parents.
To right his single original sin.
And I’m what he needed to achieve that.
Just like that, doubt returns to cloud my mind again, and the only thing I can do is continue holding onto Alisa. She turns to me.
“I’ve had nightmares every time I go to sleep,” she says. “Sometimes, I see Olivia. Other times, it’s Konstantin. But every time, the nightmares end the same way. Domenico would kill them, and then there would be nobody left to keep me safe.”
I cradle her body closer, and force my own self-doubts out of my mind. “I’m here with you now. And I promise you that your brother is on his way to save us both.”
She snuggles closer to me, and for a moment, I feel like the mother that she lost so many years ago. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead and hug her tightly, holding her like that until she finally drifts off to sleep.
Once she does, my own hand drifts down to my belly. It’s still flat, and perhaps a baby is growing there already. But will I survive long enough to see this baby’s birth?
Will Konstantin?
I stare at the dim light above me and Alisa.
And what happens after that? If it happens at all?