47. Emily
47
EMILY
MORNING
I hug my knees to my chest, and pain stabs through me from my fingertips, to my palms, my arms, along my legs, and down to the soles of my feet. But I don’t dare let go.
After Alla left with her guards, I stayed awake, my heart racing with terror until the sun chased away the storm clouds at daybreak.
At first light, I held up my trembling hands and searched them for any signs of damage.
Alla was right.
Those needles left neither scars nor drew any drops of blood.
All except one.
At the end of my torture, Alla had one of her bodyguards bring out a single syringe. She expertly inserted it into my arm and drew out a full measure of blood. Smirking, she told me that she’ll have an answer for her questions soon enough.
Afterwards, she leaned down, and whispered in my ear that she’ll be back tonight to let me know the results.
I shudder against myself. I don’t think I can survive another night of this.
Especially if I am pregnant.
The door creaks open, and I look over with a start only to find Ivica entering with a plate of pancakes and tea. She looks away immediately when she sees me, and my heart hurts at how she’s ignoring me.
“Ivica …” My voice cracks. I just want to hear someone say something to me. Anything. “Ivica, please.”
She blinks harshly as she continues to avoid my gaze and lays the tray of food and tea on the table beside me. Then, wordlessly, she starts making her way back to the door.
“Stay,” I plead. “Please …”
Her hand stays at the doorknob for just a moment. For just a moment, I dare to imagine that she might stay—that she might turn around and ask me what is wrong.
But all she offers is a single lone sniffle, the frame of her body shaking as she grabs the doorknob.
“Stay!” Desperate, I reach for a familiar phrase that I’ve heard from Konstantin in Buric’s shop. “ Eto moi prikaz! ”
Whatever the phrase means, it achieves the effect I want. Her head rises, she turns around to face me, and my heart breaks when I see that her eyes are brimming with tears.
And then, she speaks—so soft and quiet that I almost thought I imagined it—from her trembling lips.
“Yes, dear?”
I blink, and my own vision grows blurry and hazy. “Please stay with me for just a few minutes,” I beg in a small voice. “Please talk to me. Please don’t leave me alone in this place.”
Casting one final, furtive look at the door, she gives me a quick nod, and then strides over beside me. I look up at her when she arrives, my hands still wrapped around my knees as pain stabs throughout my body.
“I can’t stay for long, dear,” she whispers. “Alla Antonovna … She’ll …”
“I know.” I nod. “Please, can you just sit with me?”
Nodding, Ivica sits down on the edge of the bed and looks at me with her kind eyes brimming with tears, and I feel the pinpricks of pain from Alla’s cruel needles again.
Slowly, she reaches out with a single hand and I wince from pain when she brushes my arms. She quickly withdraws, but I grab her hand in mine before she can, biting back the urge to cry out.
If I scream, Alla will hear, and then it won’t just be me that she hurts.
Ivica scoots a little closer and then suddenly, she pulls me into a hug like a mother. Not my mother, but the mother I wish I had. I wrap my arms around her, ignoring the searing pain overwhelming my body as I hug her back, unable to stop the tears overwhelming my eyes.
“Where did he go, Ivica?” I whisper, and I feel her embrace tighten at my question.
“He left with Gerasim Petrovich, and the best killers of the bratva,” she replies. “They’re going to go save Alisa Yurevna.”
His sister … I think. Of course that’s why he left. That’s the only reason why he’d leave.
I don’t blame him for that. If our roles were switched, I would’ve done the same thing.
But does he know just what kind of monster he left me with?
Did he even have a choice?
“I’m scared, Ivica,” I confess. “I’m scared of what she’ll do to me when she comes back tonight.”
Ivica breaks the hug, holding my shoulders gently in her hands, and asks. “Did she use her needles?”
Tears well in my eyes. Just how many other people have suffered at the hands of that cruel woman? Slowly, I muster a tiny nod. Almost as if I’m afraid that somehow, Alla is watching.
“Oh, Emily Samovna …” a single tear rolls out from Ivica’s eyes. “She shouldn’t have. You are Konstantin Yurevich’s wife. ”
“Not to Alla, I’m not.” I shake my head. Then, with a trembling breath, I say, “I can’t stay here, Ivica. I won’t survive if I do.”
Ivica recoils when I say those words. Her kind eyes are shimmering in the morning light. I can pick out the fear in them. Slowly, the fear gives way to sympathy, sympathy shifts into understanding, and finally, understanding transforms into something else.
Something that makes me feel safe.
Something that tells me that she’ll never hurt me.
“Where will you go?” she asks me.
“Home,” I say. “To America.”
I can always go back to New York and stay with Nadia for a little while. But eventually I have to go and face the reality of my expulsion, of Olivia’s death, and of my parents demanding information so they can get the money from her life insurance.
But those are problems that I can handle.
Anything is better than the hell that awaits me tonight when Alla returns with her needles.
Or once she confirms that I am pregnant with Konstantin’s child … I shudder.
I can’t think about it.
Ivica chews her lip.
“Take the boat to the other side of the lake,” she says. “From there, through the trees, it’s an hour-long walk in a straight line north until you reach a road. Every day, a delivery truck from the castle will travel along there two hours after sundown towards Dubrovnik.”
My heart thunders at my throat. I know just how dangerous it can be for her to tell me all of these things. But I don’t dare interrupt her, and listen intently as she continues.
“Once you flag the driver down, tell them ya trebam pomoch ,” she says. “That means I need help. Then tell them ya sam Amerikanka. That means I am an American. They should be able to figure out where to take you from that point on. And don’t worry, the drivers won’t know who you are. They only ever interact with the kitchen staff. They won’t sell you out. Any questions?”
I blink and stare at her, shocked that she is offering up all of this information to me. Was she always willing to do that? Or does she also realize that should Konstantin fail to rescue Alisa, the fate that awaits me is one worse than death?
“I need to hear you repeat those two phrases, dear.”
Slowly, I do. She asks me to do it again, and then one final time until the words are practically seared inside of my mind. Finally, when she’s satisfied, she tells me.
“I will lace Alla Antonovna’s meal later tonight with just enough sleeping medication so that she will go to bed at sunset. I can have some of the girls distract the guards. There’s a service corridor on the left side of the hallway. Go through there once the sun has set and I will take you to the boat myself.”
She gingerly takes my hands in hers. I can tell she wants to squeeze them to reassure me, but she doesn’t out of fear that she might hurt me. Gritting my teeth against the pain stabbing at me, I squeeze her hands tightly in mine as tears of gratitude rolls down my face.
“Thank you, Ivica. For everything.”