Chapter 16 #2
Before rational thought can stop me, my hand moves on its own as I pull out the pistol and lock eyes with the girl beneath him. Her gaze is filled with terror but also resilience…and gratitude. She nods at me ever so slightly.
I fire without hesitation.
The first bullet hits Aleksandr square in the back, and he collapses off the bed with a scream of pain. As he writhes on the floor, his bloodshot eyes snap toward me.
“I knew your day would come soon enough,” he spits through gritted teeth. “No one’s going to save you now, you worthless whore.”
I step closer and shoot him again, this time in the abdomen.
“The keys?” I ask the girl quickly, keeping my voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside me.
She nods toward a drawer in the nightstand while tears stream down her face. Her eyes are swollen and red from crying, but she still manages to guide me with a trembling hand.
Aleksandr is too weak to fight back now. I know I only have moments before someone comes, but it’s enough time to free her wrists from those cursed cuffs.
I don’t know where she can go or how far she’ll get, but coming here was the right choice. If we’re going to die today, we’ll die fighting together, not by turning our backs like all those other times before.
Once her hands are free, Aleksandr slumps, unconscious, on the floor just as footsteps echo down the hall outside. The girl touches my arm gently and whispers, “If you ever escape this place…find my father. Tell him you saved Dulci.”
I want to tell her there’s no escape for either of us, not anytime soon, but something about her eyes stops me short. Instead, I ask softly, “Dulci?”
Her lips twitch into something close to a smile despite her pain. “I used to eat all the caramel candies from our kitchen when Mama wasn’t looking,” she says faintly, almost laughing at the memory.
The footsteps grow louder outside the door, and I know it’s too late to hide or come up with an excuse now.
The first person through the door is Maksim, and when our eyes meet, all I see on his face is pure terror.
For once, there’s nothing he can do for me. Not this time.
A man I recognize from my first day here, likely Ivan’s right-hand, storms into the room. It takes him all of five seconds to piece everything together.
“You!” His voice booms like thunder as he strides toward me and yanks me by the hair.
Maksim steps forward, but I plead with him silently, begging him not to intervene. He has a mission, a purpose. I don’t matter right now.
“We’ll see what Ivan has to say when he finds out his nephew was killed by your new little plaything,” the man spits at Maksim, his tone sharp and accusatory.
“First of all, he’s not dead,” Maksim replies coolly, his voice steady and cutting. “If you’d bothered to check, you’d already be calling a medic to patch him up. Second, since she’s mine, I’ll decide her punishment.”
A shiver runs down my spine at Maksim’s words, the weight of them sinking in.
Chaos erupts in the room. Akim joins us, pulling Maksim aside for a hushed conversation in the corner.
Meanwhile, Ivan’s lieutenant summons more soldiers to take the girl away.
As she’s escorted out of the room, her eyes meet mine briefly—filled with gratitude and sadness—and I see her lips tremble in an attempt at a smile.
Aleksandr is moved to another room for medical supervision. Subconsciously, I knew where to shoot him so he wouldn’t die. I guess I knew the trouble it would cause Maksim if Aleksandr died by my hand.
It’s ironic how this time I hit my mark perfectly, but during training, I can’t seem to land a single shot.
“Ivan has agreed to let you carry out the punishment,” the lieutenant announces, and I see Maksim’s jaw tighten as his teeth clench.
“Ten lashes,” Maksim says coldly.
The four words freeze my blood in my veins. I lower my head and accept my fate. It’s fine. I won’t die. I’ll endure this.
Akim takes my hand and leads me out of the room and toward the basement, where several soldiers are already gathered.
In one corner, I spot children tied to a metal pipe with rope and Zoya standing nearby with a worried expression on her face. I try to throw her an encouraging smile, but it feels hollow and forced, so I drop my gaze again.
There’s no better moment than now to face what’s coming.
“You’ve made a big mistake,” Akim whispers before letting go of me and tying my hands around a wooden post.
I’m positioned facing the post, its rough surface pressing against me as splinters dig into my skin.
But that doesn’t matter now. At least this way, I don’t have to see Maksim’s face.
I’ve failed him today. Letting emotions cloud my judgment on a day like this was reckless; I lost control when it mattered most.
I could’ve killed Aleksandr, and then there would’ve been only one acceptable punishment: death. Something tells me Maksim wouldn’t have been able to bear that sentence and he would’ve fought anyone who tried to carry it out.
With that thought in mind, I close my eyes and brace myself for what’s coming, for putting at risk the man who is slowly carving out a space in my heart.
For a brief moment, I catch the scent of cedarwood and rosemary behind me, and tears spill down my cheeks uncontrollably. His warmth envelops me from behind like an unspoken comfort, a fleeting reprieve from what lies ahead.
“Why?” His voice is low but full of questions.
Why did I risk myself? Why did I endanger him with my actions? Why couldn’t I just walk away when that girl was being violated and mutilated?
“Because it felt right,” I whisper back, hoping he understands.
I don’t have his strength, this ability to block out all the darkness in this house or move forward despite the horrors lurking around every corner. Unlike him, I can’t ignore the abuse inflicted on defenseless victims who have no weapons or means to protect themselves.
I’m not strong like him.
The scent of cedar fades as reality crashes back in, the sharp pain of fabric tearing off my back making me flinch.
“One,” someone counts aloud, their voice echoing through the basement as all eyes fix on me.
Maksim's words from a month ago, when he gave me the birth control injection, ring in my ears: Better to not expect it.
The second lash rips through me harder than the first, and I can’t hold back my scream this time. Biting down on my tongue until blood fills my mouth, I try desperately to stifle any sound for his sake.
I don’t want Maksim to hear me suffer, not these sounds that will surely haunt him like so many others already do.
Blow after blow rains down on me until pain becomes muted, my body numb as my cheek presses harder against the post, as if it could swallow me whole and take me away from this nightmare.
“Ten.”
I know I let out a sigh of relief. My head rests against the rough wooden post, and I force my legs to stay steady, refusing to collapse in front of them. But my knees are already trembling, threatening to give out beneath me.
There’s noise around me, with murmurs and shuffling, and then, suddenly, silence.
Someone begins untying the ropes binding me, and I don’t have to look to know it’s him. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes, not after what I’ve done. My back carries the physical wounds, but I know it hurt him just as much to inflict them.
Before I can react, I’m lifted off the ground.
My arms instinctively wrap around his neck as he carries me.
I rest my head against the base of his throat, biting down on my lip when the movement stretches the torn skin on my back.
The pain stings like fire, but his scent—woodsy and grounding—pulls at the edges of my consciousness, lulling me toward sleep.
In what feels like moments, we’re back in our room. Our room.
He sets me down gently on the bed without a word. His silence weighs heavier than any scolding could. Without asking, he pulls my shirt up to inspect the damage. A sharp grimace flashes across my face at the pain, and I know he doesn’t miss it.
For a few seconds, he just stares at my back, unmoving. That stillness tells me everything. It’s bad. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be reacting like this.
I want to say something, anything, to explain myself or justify why I did what I did. But no words feel right. It was reckless, I know that, but I don’t regret it.
The cold touch of ointment on my raw skin makes me flinch involuntarily. He doesn’t say a word as he works, and that silence cuts deeper than any lash ever could because I can hear his thoughts in it. They’re loud enough to drown out everything else.
Minutes pass as he carefully applies the ointment to my back. When he’s done, he stands and moves to sit directly in front of me. For a moment, I hesitate before lifting my gaze to meet his.
I wish I hadn’t.
His eyes are blazing with anger and disappointment, no tenderness, no understanding, just raw fury that feels like a punch to the gut. It’s as if his hands are gripping my throat without ever touching me.
And all that echoes in my head is: Feliz cumpleanos, Julia.