Chapter 27
TATI
The world comes back into focus slowly. I open my eyes to darkness and the dank and familiar smells of mildew and dust. I’m lying on a dirty floor. I can feel the grit pressing against my face, hands, and forearms as I try to move. Instant soreness thrums through my muscles and one side of my jaw.
Bastard knocked me out and threw me… where?
It’s taking me a minute for my eyes to adjust, but I can make out shelves and a table against one of the walls and a stairwell leading up to a closed door above me.
Wait. I’m in a basement. Not only that, but I also know this basement. Shit. Yanov brought be back to my father’s house.
I stand up and dust myself off. There has to be some way out of here. When I was a kid, there used to be a storm door somewhere… I start walking carefully through the darkness in the direction of where it used to be, only to be met with the cool surface of a concrete wall.
Of course he had it walled up. This is probably where he keeps people who disobey him. Wouldn’t want them to escape.
Okay. Well. Now what? It’s dark as fuck down here, so I can’t really see anything in this darkness. I don’t even know where the light is.
I’m trying not to speculate on what the plan must be. This time when he sent Yanov to collect me, he didn’t bother with locking me away in my bedroom. I don’t think that’s a coincidence or even a matter of just being lazy. I’m in the dark and dirty basement now. That can’t mean anything good.
Knowing what he did to my brother, I can expect anything. All the more reason to get the fuck out of here as fast as I can.
There are no windows. The storm door has been walled up.
Other than the shadows of various pieces of furniture, I can’t really see farther than a few inches in front of my face.
Surely, he’s not planning on just keeping me here indefinitely.
Then again, he kept me locked away in my room for months.
I suppose becoming a prisoner in his basement isn’t that far of a leap.
Well, if that’s his plan, I’m not going for it. I’m getting the fuck out of here. I just need to find something to pick the lock to the door.
I go to the shelves and start looking for something, anything, that might help. I’m doing this mostly by feel, so most of these things I can’t identify. A dense, square-shaped plastic thing, something metal that might be a bucket, a metal box with a bunch of metal things clanking around inside…
Oh. A toolbox. I open it and root around for a screwdriver. It doesn’t take me long before I find one.
The lights suddenly come on all around me, blinding me for half a second as footsteps descend into the basement. I dart behind the shelves and crouch down to hide.
The footsteps stop and I hear Yanov say, “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little rabbit.”
Fuck him. I grip the screwdriver in both hands. Whatever he’s planning to do with me, I’m not about to let him do it easily. I clench my jaw and listen as he walks carefully toward the shelves, his shoes slowly crushing the tiny bits of gravel and dirt on the floor.
“I knew I should have tied you up,” he says. “Your father was against doing so, though. I suppose this is his way of being soft on you, giving you one last chance to do the right thing before we have to act.”
He’s close to me. I can smell his cologne and see his shadow on the floor in front of me. All he has to do is turn a corner and I can stab him. My heart is pounding and my hands are sweating. I’ve got one shot at this. If I miss, I’m fucked.
“You’ve always been a clever little rabbit,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But not clever… enough!”
The shelves rattle and suddenly, I’m grabbed by my hair and yanked into the steel shelving. I yelp and start swinging the screwdriver as I struggle to get away. It connects with his wrist. I feel the metal meet resistance and he curses, letting me go.
I scramble out from behind the shelf and he lunges for me.
I’m screaming, swinging the screwdriver at him wildly.
I manage to catch him across the face. The edge of the flathead scrapes his cheek.
It doesn’t stop him from grabbing me by the wrists and slamming the one with the screwdriver into the nearest wall.
It falls from my hands uselessly and he whirls me around, wrapping me up in a bearhug and lifting me off my feet.
“LET ME GO!” I start screaming. “MOTHERFUCKER! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”
I’m kicking, trying to get him in the legs or torso, but he’s got me firm. He carries me over to a chair and slams me down. I try to get up and he grabs my by the throat, choking me.
“Sit. Still,” he growls.
He holds me until I stop struggling, then he steps away to the table by the wall. In the light, I can see that it’s got particular items on it. Pliers, a blowtorch, rope, duct tape.
So, that’s the plan. Torture. Hell no.
I sprint for the stairs, knocking the chair down. I get as far as the bottom step before I feel his hands grab my shirt. I evade him, leaping up the rickety wooden steps to freedom. To the door right above me…
Then it opens and a shadow blocks the light.
I know him before I see his face fully. I’ve known the shape and smell of my father since before I knew thought. Seeing him in front of me makes me stumble, and I slam my knee into one of the steps.
“No,” I whimper as Yanov grabs me around the waist and pulls me away. “Please! Papa, don’t do this! Please!”
I can’t help it. The tears start to flow as I’m carried back to the chair and slammed back down. This time, Yanov has tape ready. He yanks my hands back and starts binding my wrists.
“Looks like she gave you a fight,” my father says as he descends down the stairs. He doesn’t acknowledge me at all. His face looks more drawn downward than usual. The normal edges of his downturned eyes seem to dip even more sharply.
“She surprised me,” Yanov says. He’s out of breath. Good. I hope he drops dead of a heart attack.
My father stands in front of me, still not looking at me, but rather, watching Yanov finish binding me to this chair.
He wraps my ankles one by one, and when he’s finished, he drops the tape on the table and picks up a rag to wrap the wound on his wrist that I gave him.
He turns to look at my father, and his left cheek is deeply scarred with a long, jagged line of blood.
My father observes him for a moment, then… he looks at me.
I’ve never felt so much cold from him before. His face has turned to stone as he stares hard, his eyes dark and soulless.
He clasps his hands in front of him and asks, “Where is the journal, Tatiana?”
The journal. Oh, thank God, they never got ahold of it. I stare up at him, my mind spinning. Maybe I can still appeal to him. At the end of the day, I’m still his daughter, after all.
“Papa,” I say, “please let me go. We can talk this out.”
“There is nothing to talk about, Tatiana,” he says coldly. “You stole something very important from me and I want it back. Where is your brother’s journal?”
The succinct way he’s shut me down makes me want to cry. The child in me is crushed like she’s been every time he’s been angry or disappointed in me, and my eyes start to burn. I swallow to push it away and say, “I don’t have it.”
“But you did take it,” he says. “Tell us where it is, Tatiana, and I’ll make sure Yanov makes it easy for you.”
It. That’s not good. My eyes dart back over at Yanov, who’s smiling to himself as he regards the many implements of torture on the table before him. I sit up straight, trying to show some level of bravery.
“You can’t kill me,” I tell him. “I’m your daughter. Your blood. If anyone finds out—”
“You really think you can talk your way out of this?” My father tilts his head as his eyes widen with anger.
“Do you understand what you’ve done? This isn’t the childish bit of acting out that you’ve subjected me to since you left this house.
You’ve inserted yourself into my business. I thought you knew better, Tatiana.”
“So, your answer to that is to kill me?”
“No,” he says. “My answer to your disloyalty is the same as any other person who decides to work against me. I will torture you until I get what I want, then whatever is left of you after that will be disposed of once and for all.”
“What will you tell them?” I say through clenched teeth. “Your men? When they ask what happened to your daughter?”
“No one will ask. What they will know is that you ran off. Disappeared again, the way you did in Europe. Only this time, I’ve decided to let you go.
What else can a father do with an unruly child like you?
Why, it’s the truest act of self-preservation I could perform.
I have to protect my own heart when my child has been lured away. ”
The way he says that has a finality to it that rings true. He’s already let me go. I wonder how long it took him to do it. Right after he realized what I’d done? Or maybe weeks before?
“Like Nicki?” I ask him. He raises his eyebrows. “You let him go, too, right? That’s how you explain it away, I guess. Kill him and just blame it on the poor, wayward son.”
He sighs and takes off his suit jacket, then walks to my left and pulls up another chair.
“You have no idea how hard it was for me to come to that decision, Tatiana. You see, he was my son. And unlike you, his existence meant something to me. He was the one who was supposed to carry on my legacy.” He sits and starts rolling up his sleeves.
The millions of tattoos mark his arms like another article of clothing.
“Discovering his disloyalty hurt me in a way that you can never understand. As for you, well, I suppose I shouldn’t actually be all that surprised that this is how you turned out.
I had hoped that you would calm down, perhaps marry someone worthy enough to take Nicki’s place when the time comes.
I understand now that I was a fool to think that would ever happen. You were born corrupted.”
“Is that why you had him killed?” I say, and my voice cracks, betraying my fear. “At least you’re looking me in the eye this time instead of sending Yanov to do your dirty work.”
Before I said it, I didn’t know if Yanov was the one who killed my brother, but the way he pauses in the background, his eyes tentatively looking at my father, tells me that I’m right on the money.
My father just says, “It had to be done. And it had to be Yanov to do it. Viktor was too close to Nicki. I couldn’t trust that he’d go through with it. ”
I nod. “And that’s why you sent Yanov to take care of Marla too. You bastard.”
“So goes the job of serving a master such as myself,” he says with a shake of his head.
“If I thought that Viktor could handle doing this job, he’d be here instead of Yanov.
I’m afraid he’s gone soft as well.” He regards me for a long moment as if trying to memorize my features.
His eyes move over my face and my hair quickly.
“I’m sorry you could not be saved, my dear.” With that, he turns and looks at Yanov, giving him a slight nod. Yanov picks up the pliers and walks over to me.
Panic fills me, and before I can stop myself, I say, “If I die, Papa, then so does your bloodline.”
“Yes, Tatiana. I know.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. My mouth goes dry as I stare at them both, the fear almost crippling me. “I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” My father’s face splits into a smile, but Yanov’s face goes to slate.
Suddenly, I see the picture form between them.
Yanov has always been my father’s best spy.
Of course he knows about me and Viktor. He might’ve known all along.
Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was he who spread the rumors in the first place.
But my father was clearly not truly aware. Our suspicions that he was in our relationship appear to be false. He snickers and says, “That’s a nice little lie, Tatiana. But you’ve been under close watch since you’ve been home. You cannot possibly be pregnant.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, “I think Yanov would know something about that. He is your best spy, right?”
My father’s smile disappears and he looks over his shoulder at Yanov. “What is she talking about?”
He hesitates for a moment, then, “I never had the chance to find out for sure, Nikolai.”
“Find out what for sure? What haven’t you told me?”
“In a way, I did tell you, sir.” My father just stares until Yanov finally says, “The rumor. About Viktor.”
And finally, it clicks. My father turns to me, his eyes wide. In one fluid movement, he stands and his hand comes up quick, backhanding me hard across the face.
“Slut,” he spits in Russian. “Fucking whore!”
I’m seeing stars as he hits me again, harder this time, across my other cheek. I shout at him in Russian as blood fills my mouth. “He’s a better man than you have ever been!”
He grabs my neck and squeezes. “You filthy little tramp,” he spits. “I have been cursed every day since you were born.”
“Kill me and you kill your grandson,” I manage to say through my restricted airway. He squeezes harder.
“Good. No child should suffer being born through your vile womb.”
The corners of my vision start to darken. The monster hiding in my closet, under my bed, the thing in the shadows I’ve always feared. It was him. My entire life. The monster was always hovered over me like a harbinger waiting for this moment in time.
And now he’s the last face I’m ever going to see. I’m sorry, little one. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect us from him.
I hear muffled thumps somewhere in the distance. My father lets me go and air rushes back into my lungs. I lean forward and gasp big gulps of it as he steps away from me.
“Gunshots,” Yanov says, setting the pliers down. “We’ve got company.”
My father doesn’t have to give any orders because Yanov is already rushing toward the stairs.
But none of that matters right now. All that matters is the look on my father’s face—eyes widened, jaw clenched. I’ve never seen it before, but I know exactly what it is.
It’s fear. He knows what’s coming.