Chapter 34 Anika
ANIKA
The Chiaroscuro brothers might think Miko’s heritage is a fortunate twist of fate, but I know better. I can see it for the red flag that it is.
And the fact that he’s decided to take up Pyotr’s role as Pakhan only confirms my dark suspicion.
Miko is more similar to his brother than I could have imagined.
Only dangerous men would choose to become Pakhan when offered the choice, only power-hungry men who want the world to burn down—along with all who live in it.
I can’t go back to that kind of life. I don’t think I’ll survive it.
What if Miko proves to be just as much of a tyrant as his brother once he’s initiated?
It wouldn’t be the first time a man’s true nature came out after he got a taste of true power.
If you had asked me yesterday, I never would have entertained the thought that Miko could be that kind of man.
I felt so confident in his goodness. I trusted that he was safe and gentle to his very core—at least to those who weren’t a threat to his family.
Yes, it’s been a challenge to come to terms with what Miko did to Pyotr.
To find logic behind the contradiction of his two opposing sides.
It took me a long time to believe that he could have such a stark line, a line that he wouldn’t ever cross with me because he gave me his word. It was hard to trust that he meant what he said when Pyotr’s boundaries blurred all the time.
But witnessing the explosive force of Miko’s temper has shaken my very foundation. It made me realize that, as much as I would like to think I know him, I have no clue who my husband really is.
Sora was right. Miko’s anger is terrifying. He might not have hit Svetlana this time, but he came far too close for comfort.
And any man who has the potential to harm such a frail, helpless old woman wouldn’t think twice about turning me into his punching bag one day.
That’s why I have to go.
It’s not safe for me to be here anymore.
It’s not safe for my baby.
This time, I’m going to save myself—and more importantly, the innocent child growing inside me—before he even has a chance to cross that line.
My bag is packed in less than five minutes—with only the bare essentials: the money I kept tucked away in my sock drawer, waiting for the opportunity to escape Pyotr, a single change of clothes, and a simple bag of toiletries.
I leave my phone behind. No doubt Miko could find a way to track me with it—and it’s not like I have anyone to call for help.
I don’t linger to allow for any doubt to creep in. Padding softly to the bedroom door in my most comfortable pair of sneakers, I twist the handle.
The door flies open, and I bite back a screech as someone nearly slams into me on my way out.
“Gasphoza!” Chastity gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here…” Her words trail off as she spots the state of my tear-stained face, then the small bag slung over my shoulder. “Are you leaving?” she asks.
Glancing nervously down the hall, I pull my faithful maid into the room and close the door. “Please, Chastity, you can’t tell him.”
“Gospodin Chiaroscuro? But… why?” she asks, dumbfounded.
I shake my head. “There isn’t time to explain, but I’m not safe here. Please, please, just buy me as much time as you can.”
“He’ll kill me if I let you go,” she breathes, echoing the threat he gave her on that first day when the Chiaroscuros descended upon our house.
My chest tightens. I have no right to put her in that kind of danger. But for my child’s sake, I have to ask it of her. “Pretend you never saw me then,” I suggest.
“He’ll know if I’m lying,” she insists, her brown eyes growing round.
Anxiety courses through me as I feel my timer ticking down before Miko comes to find me. “Then tell him you couldn’t stop me,” I say. “Tell him you tried but I overpowered you or something. Because you can’t make me stay. I have to go, Chastity. I have to go now. I’m sorry.”
She nods, a single tear tracking down her cheek, and I pull her in for a quick hug. Then I rush from the room, taking the back stairs to exit through the servant’s entrance.
I’ve learned a lot about what not to do when trying to escape Miko these past few months.
For starters, don’t give him any hint that I intend to run. And when I do, pick the least obvious path—even if it’s the most dangerous one.
That’s why I head toward the tree line at the back of the property—where high walls surround the towering trees, and on the other side is a sharp drop straight into a small lake.
It makes the far side of the estate nearly impenetrable, which is why Miko’s guards only make the occasional rounds to check the perimeter.
Most of his force is located near the main gates.
Usually, I wouldn’t dare risk what I’m about to do. But if it will save my baby, then I’m going to take it.
The wall itself is a formidable obstacle.
It takes time to scale it using only rough patches in the stones as hand and footholds.
By the time I reach the top of its towering twelve feet, I’m breathing heavily, perspiration making my hair cling wetly to my brow.
I pause for just a moment to catch my breath, and as I do, I scan for the best-looking landing spot.
Several points along the lake edge look shallow enough to be dangerous, but in one particular section, the water is dark enough, it almost looks black.
Hopefully, that means it’s deep enough to cushion my fall.
Steeling myself, I sling my legs over the wall, bracing against it with my palms so I can get my feet as close to the water as possible. Then I push off.
For one terrifying moment, I feel weightless.
Then the water rushes up to meet me as I plunge toward the ground below.
Even in the summertime, the shaded water of the lake is frigid, and bitter cold daggers bite into my skin as the water swallows me whole.
Lungs burning with the need to scream, I clamp my lips together and swim back toward the light.
I break the surface of the water with a ragged gasp, sucking in oxygen as my body starts to panic and seize from the sudden temperature drop.
But even if I’ve managed to make it off the property unnoticed, I need to stay quiet. So I bite back the pain and start to swim, crossing the still, dark waters of the lake.
I’m shivering as soon as I emerge on the far bank. It would have been nice to switch to my spare set of clothes, but I’m sure they got just as drenched as I did because my backpack’s not waterproof.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I set my jaw and start walking. I’m pretty sure I’m headed into town, but it’s hard to be certain when I can scarcely see the swiftly setting sun between the trees.
Then finally, after what feels like hours of walking in soggy shoes, when the blisters have already started to rise along the soles of my feet, I hear the sweet sound of traffic.
Despite the secluded feel of the Novikov compound, it’s located not too far from downtown Chicago, and as I step out onto the neighborhood street, I’m relieved to see a bus stop just a few blocks away.
If I take a bus into the city, I’m sure I’ll be able to flag a taxi from there—or perhaps hop a train that will carry me far from Miko before he even knows I’m gone.
It makes my chest ache to think that way.
To realize I’ll never see him again.
Doubt and anxiety rise inside my chest, threatening to strangle me as I realize I miss Miko already.
I miss the warmth of his arms, the strength and safety they provided. I miss the deep, reassuring bass of his voice.
But I can’t go back to him, and even if I wish I could have said goodbye, it’s better this way.
I needed to make a clean break.
Right now, I might be on the run, but Miko’s not here to stop me.
If I’d stayed to explain myself, I don’t doubt he would have tried to make me stay.
And if he didn’t lock me up, he far too easily could have convinced me that I’m overreacting—that I’m projecting my fears onto him based on everything that happened with Pyotr, that I’m not giving him a fair chance.
Maybe he would be right.
My stomach tightens as Svetlana’s voice echoes in my head, driving my feet forward. “Novikov men are born with a poison in their blood. It makes them hurt the ones they love…”
And after seeing Miko put a fist through the wall when he found out he’s a Novikov… I don’t doubt the wisdom in her words.
I made the right decision to leave. Even if my heart’s breaking with every step.
It isn’t hard to catch a bus into town, and while it requires asking a lot of questions—and receiving more than a few odd looks when the bus driver sees my wet clothes—I manage to make it to the train station.
But I have no clue where to go. My instincts tell me to hop on the first train out of here.
But that’s going north to Toronto, and I don’t have my passport. All other trains won’t leave until the morning.
Deciding I’ll find a place to hop off before I reach the border, I step up to the ticket counter and pull out my wad of soggy cash to buy a ticket.
“One train to Toronto,” I say, earning another quizzical glance from the ticket master behind the plexiglass.
“Of course,” she says, her Southern drawl coming across clear even in her minimal response.
She names a price, and I count out the appropriate amount, giving away nearly a fifth of my cash in that single transaction.
My meager life savings isn’t going to get me very far.
But hopefully, it will get me far enough, and after that, I can get a job to provide for my baby.
My hand falls protectively to my stomach, and a flash of anxiety lances through me as I wonder if my desperate escape has done anything that might endanger the tiny little being.
It’s an odd feeling, to be willing to do anything to protect my unborn child—and at the same time, know that I’m risking both our lives to give my baby a chance at a different life, a better life than I had.
One free of the violence and horror that has been my constant companion.
“Here, y’are, darlin’,” she says, sliding my ticket across the counter. “Train leaves in an hour. It’s best to be on board fifteen minutes before departure.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, dragging the ticket to the edge of the countertop to collect it. Then I tuck it and my money safely back in my bag.
Forty-five minutes. That will give me enough time to freshen up in the bathroom—and hopefully, they’ll have a hand dryer that might improve the soggy state of my clothes.
The train station is nearly empty at this time of night, a few stragglers wandering the floor, several homeless people setting up shop in the dark corners.
My shoes squeak across the polished floor, making me cringe as they call unnecessary attention to my location.
With a sigh of relief, I step into the women’s bathroom to find it completely empty.
My first glimpse in the mirror tells me exactly why I’ve been catching glances all evening.
The light coat of mascara I put on this morning has formed two dark trails down my cheeks.
My hair is mussed, the damp blond locks wavy in a natural, almost beachy way.
But several twigs and leaves have managed to hitch a ride, making me look like I’ve been sleeping on the ground for the last few nights.
My shirt clings damply to my body, emphasizing my nipples that stand out, even through the fabric of my bra, announcing the chill that’s slowly settled into my bones.
I’m a wreck.
With a huff, I turn on the warm water and gratefully lean over the basin to wash the sticky tears and the lake water from my face.
I would love nothing more than to climb up onto the counter and use the sink as my bathtub.
But there’s no chance it would fit all of me—and I’m confident anyone who walked in to see that would be traumatized.
I splash and scrub my skin, taking my time as the water slowly thaws my fingers and nose. Then, finally, I blindly turn the faucet off and reach for a paper towel.
My heart jumps into my throat as I wipe my face and dry my eyes—only to find someone watching me in the mirror’s reflection.
I gasp, whirling to face the lanky young man, whose lips curve into a cold sneer.
“W-what are you doing in here?” I demand. “This is the ladies’ room.”
He glances casually around before letting his gaze slide lazily back to me. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Get out!” I scream, my heart hammering as my survival instincts kick into gear. I should have locked the door behind me—or barricaded it somehow. I can’t believe I was so careless.
“Calm down. Christ, lady. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” His eyes flick down to my hips, as if to see if my panties are, in fact, the reason for my overreaction. “I just thought I’d let you know I’ll be relieving you of your backpack.”
My heart rattles to a stop in my hollow chest as I stare at the small black leather bag he holds up—the bag holding my money, my train ticket, and every last shred of personal belongings to my name.
“You can’t have it,” I say, taking a step forward.
“Ah-ah,” he counters, a knife flicking out between us to point directly at my belly. “I wouldn’t try anything stupid right now if I were you. Whatever’s in this bag can’t possibly be worth your life, right?”
My life, maybe. But if he cuts me now, where the knife is currently aimed, there’s a serious chance he would hurt my baby, and I can’t risk that. Every nerve ending in my body screams for me to run.
“Fine. Take it,” I say, slowly raising my hands to show I’m not a threat as I take a step back.
That’s when the man’s eyes flick up, glinting as they land on my left ring finger. “I’ll take that shiny rock as well,” he says, taking a step toward me.