7. Aria #2
I hiss. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He’s right in front of me now, and I’m acutely aware of how much bigger and stronger he is.
He could snap me in half if he wanted to.
“You keep secrets. You won’t tell me the truth.
You won’t trust me with anything except your body.
And now you want me to exclude someone from my son’s life because you have a feeling? ”
“Yes!” I’m shouting now, and I don’t care. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want! I’m his mother and I know when something is wrong!”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.” His hands grip my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of his palms through my pajama shirt. “Tell me why Alexander scares you. Tell me what you know about him.”
I open my mouth before closing it. The truth is right there, pressing against my teeth, demanding to be spoken.
But I can’t. Because if I tell him what I saw, what I heard, he might not believe me. And even if he does believe me, what then? What if he was part of it? What if I’m giving him information that will get me killed?
And even if he wasn’t involved, Alexander is embedded in the organization. He’s trusted. He’s powerful.
And I have no proof.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Then I can’t help you.” He lets go and steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Alexander stays. He has full access to this house and to Daniel. If you don’t like it, that’s unfortunate. But I’m not making decisions about my family based on your paranoia.”
He walks out, leaving me alone with my terror and my secrets.
I make my decision three days later.
I have to leave and get Daniel away from here before Alexander decides I’m too much of a risk to keep alive. Before Maksim decides the same thing.
The problem is the security. Guards patrol the grounds and cameras cover every inch of the property. The gates are always locked and monitored.
But I’m desperate. And desperate people find ways.
I spend a week watching and learning patterns. The guards change shifts at two in the morning. There’s a blind spot in the camera coverage near the east wall, where two camera angles don’t quite meet. It’s a gap of maybe ten feet.
It’s not much but it might be enough.
The plan is to test the route first and make sure I can actually get over the wall. Then, once I know it’s possible, I’ll come back for Daniel. I’ll tell him we’re going on an adventure and carry him to safety.
I can’t risk taking him on the first attempt. If I get caught or if something goes wrong, at least he’ll still be safe in his bed and won’t be traumatized by seeing his mother dragged back by armed guards.
The night I try, I dress in dark clothes, my stomach in knots.
I’ve hidden a small amount of cash in my room.
It’s not much, but it’s enough for a bus ticket maybe.
It will get Daniel and I somewhere Maksim won’t immediately find us.
I’ll call the police, maybe. Tell them I’m being held against my will, that my son is—
The plan falls apart the moment I examine it too closely. But I have to try. I have to do something.
I slip out of my suite at two-fifteen in the morning. The house is dark and quiet. I move carefully, avoiding the creaky floorboards I’ve memorized, keeping to the shadows.
I get down the stairs and out the back door that I left unlocked earlier.
The night air is chilly, biting through my thin jacket. I cross the lawn toward the east wall, staying low, moving as quickly as I dare.
The blind spot is just ahead. Just twenty more feet. Fifteen. Ten.
Lights flood the yard.
“Stop right there.”
One of the guards steps out from behind a tree, his gun drawn. Two other guards appear from different directions, surrounding me.
My legs give out. I sink to my knees, my hands in the air.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please, I wasn’t—I just—”
The guard speaks into his radio in Russian and I catch Maksim’s name. Then he looks at me with something that might be pity.
“You should not have tried this, Miss Delano.”
Maksim arrives within minutes, and I can tell he threw clothes on in a hurry. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that clings to his muscular frame, his feet bare on the dewy grass. His hair is mussed from sleep and there’s stubble darkening his jaw.
He looks so handsome it hurts. But he also looks angry. So angry it makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He’s shouting, his voice carrying across the lawn. “You were going to climb the wall? Run off into the night?”
“I had to!” I’m still on my knees, still shaking. “I had to try!”
“Try what? To get yourself killed?” He hauls me to my feet, his grip bruising on my upper arms. This close, I can see the anger in his eyes and can smell his soapy scent “There are cameras everywhere, Aria. Guards on patrol. Did you really think you’d make it?”
“I had to try,” I repeat, because it’s all I have.
“Why?” He shakes me slightly, and I can feel the strength in his hands. His chest heaves with barely controlled rage beneath the thin t-shirt. “What are you so desperate to escape from? Me? This house? What?”
“I can’t tell you!” I scream.
“Then I can’t trust you.” He lets go and steps back, running both hands through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. “Take her inside. Put her in her suite and lock the door.”
The guard moves to comply, his hand gentle on my elbow.
“Maksim, please—” I try to pull away, but the guard’s grip is firm.
“We’ll discuss this in the morning.” Maksim won’t look at me. “When I’m calm enough not to do something I’ll regret.”
I spend the rest of the night locked in my suite, pacing like a caged animal. Every few minutes I check on Daniel through the connecting door—still unlocked, thank god. He’s sleeping peacefully, unaware of what his mother tried to do.
Unaware of how badly I’m failing to protect him.
The sun is just starting to rise when I hear the lock click and I whirl around. The door opens, and Maksim walks in carrying a breakfast tray.
He’s dressed in dark jeans and a black henley that hugs his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His hair is damp from a shower, combed back from his face. He’s shaved, the stubble gone, revealing the sharp line of his jaw.
He looks completely different from last night.
“You need to eat,” he says, setting the tray on the table.
I refuse, my entire body on edge. “Daniel’s still sleeping.”
“I know. It’s barely six in the morning.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “What happens now?” I ask, hating how small I feel.
He sits in the chair and looks at me. I must look like hell—I feel like hell—but I don’t care.
“The blind spot in the security has been fixed,” he says conversationally, long fingers tapping against the arm of the chair.
“Guards will follow you and Daniel everywhere outside the main house. Your windows now have sensors. I would have installed them in Daniel’s room too, but I don’t want to scare him. ”
Each word is a nail in my coffin and my stomach roils.
“This is your life now, Aria. Until you decide to trust me with the truth.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “What were you planning to do? Scale the wall and then what? Walk to the nearest town? Hitchhike? You don’t have money or a car. You don’t have anything.”
“I would have figured it out,” I say weakly.
“And Daniel? Were you planning to come back for him? Or were you going to call the police, and tell them some story about being held prisoner?” He shakes his head.
“They would have called me. I would have shown them our son, told them you’re unstable and you kidnapped him eight years ago and I finally got him back.
Who do you think they would have believed? ”
The scenario is so plausible it makes my stomach turn.
“So what now?” I ask again, my whole body starting to tremble from fear and self-loathing. “You keep me locked in here forever?”
“Until you give me a reason not to.” He stands. “Eat your breakfast and get some sleep. We’ll talk more later.”
He’s leaving me alone again. If only he could understand. “Maksim—”
“I’m done, Aria.” He strides toward the door. “I’m done playing games. I’m done with your secrets and your lies and your constant attempts to run. Either you trust me with the truth, or this is your life. Those are your options.”
He leaves, and I hear the lock engage.
I sink onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.
He’s right. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep running and hiding and letting fear control every decision.
But I also can’t tell him the truth. Because the truth is that Alexander Morozov—the man who saved Nikolai’s life and has access to this house and to Daniel—is a traitor and a murderer. And I don’t know if Maksim was part of it too.
I’m trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.
And Alexander Morozov is still out there, with full access to this house, to Maksim, to my son.
The next morning, I discover the full extent of my new prison.
The balcony doors have sensors—blinking red lights that promise alarms if I try to open them.
The connecting door to Daniel’s room is still unlocked, but the main door to the hallway only opens when another guard unlocks it from the outside.
When I’m allowed out I see guards everywhere. They follow me to the library and stand outside when I visit the yard with Daniel. They watch from a distance when we play in the sitting room.
I’m being monitored every second of every day.
And through it all, Alexander keeps visiting. Keeps appearing in hallways, in doorways, his cold blue eyes tracking me like I’m prey.
Waiting for me to make a mistake.
Waiting to see what I’ll do next.
I don’t know how long I can keep this secret. I don’t know how long before Alexander decides I’m too much of a risk. I don’t know how to protect Daniel when I can barely protect myself.
All I know is that I’m running out of time.
And I have no idea what to do next.