Chapter 8 Ivy #2
I don’t know what Mikhail has told them, or if he’s said anything at all after kidnapping us and holding us hostage. The idea that he could be manipulating my family—using their confusion or pain to cover his tracks and keep them from going to the police—makes nausea roll through me.
How do you explain any of this? How do you tell your sister you were kidnapped by a Bratva heir bent on dismantling your former lover’s empire? How do you explain that your son has become a pawn in a war you tried to stay out of?
I’m not even sure where to begin.
When Katya returns a while later, I’ve eaten through half of the food she’d brought me.
While I’m sure it’s cooked well, I tasted none of it. Every bite feels like chewing through cardboard. I know I’ll need the energy, if not for what’s to come, then at least to keep my body from giving out once the adrenaline and nerves wear off.
She presents a burner phone to me, holding it out like an offering. For a second, I almost feel grateful that she’s handing me a sacred artifact disguised as a cheap, gray flip phone probably bought at a gas station for twenty dollars.
Just as my hand stretches forward, Katya’s wrist snaps back with sharp precision, pulling it out of reach before I can so much as graze it.
Her eyes flash with dry amusement. “Not so fast.”
I frown, slowly lowering my hand.
“Ten minutes,” she says, voice low but firm.
“If her line’s tapped and Mikhail so much as catches a whiff of our location, he’ll bring this whole fucking building down with us inside it.
No names of who’s here, no descriptions of shit you’ve seen outside the window.
If you hear static or anything suspicious on the other end, hang up immediately. Am I clear?”
I swallow, nodding. “I promise I won’t say anything.”
Katya watches me for another second, her eyes narrowing as if trying to peel back every layer of thought behind my expression. I can feel the weight of her scrutiny, the quiet assessment that has nothing to do with sympathy and everything to do with trying to figure out whether I can be trusted.
This isn’t just about a phone call. This is a test to see if I can follow orders without hesitation.
If I can obey a command and not jeopardize the entire Bratva in response.
Five years ago, I would’ve been happy to indulge her.
To prove to her, and the rest of the inner circle, that I would never do anything to betray them.
I find it ironically cruel how far things have changed.
Her gaze flickers when she finds whatever answer she was looking for in my silence. Then without ceremony, she relents, holding out the phone again.
“Ten minutes,” she repeats. She turns and leaves, her footsteps silent on the floor as the door shuts behind her with a soft click.
I breathe out slowly, forcing air into my lungs until the trembling in my fingers dulls faintly.
Typing in Lettie’s number is easy. My thumbs move automatically, muscle memory guiding me through the familiar digits.
I’ve dialed it hundreds of times in the past five years from late-night check-ins, whispered confessions after a drunken night, petty sisterly complaints.
Pressing the call button now feels impossible. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve done aside from giving birth.
I stare at the glowing screen, my thumb hovering over the green icon. My heart pounds so hard it rattles my ribs. What if she doesn’t answer? Or worse, what if she does? What do I even say to her? How do I explain what’s happened when I can barely understand it myself?
I don’t know how to put into words the weeks of fear, the bruises, the threats, the deals I’ve made to keep Leo alive. How do you tell your sister you’ve bargained with a devil she’s only heard of in stories? How do you make her understand you didn’t have a choice?
I close my eyes, grip the phone tighter, and finally press call.
She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
My breath hitches. Just hearing her voice, that same tone she’s always used to answer unknown numbers, is enough to crack something inside me. For a moment, I can’t speak. I just sit on the edge of my bed, biting down on the sob that’s trying to rise up my throat.
“Lettie,” I finally manage, my voice cracking on her name. “It’s me.”
There’s a pause, and then she gasps loudly. I hear the rustle of movement, like she’s standing up so fast she knocked something over. Her voice rises, panicked and relieved.
“Oh my God! Ivy? Oh my God! Where are you? Are you okay? What the hell happened? I called everyone to find out where the hell you went. I called the police, the hospitals, the goddamn embassy! I didn’t know where the hell you were!
One second, you were texting me, telling me you were on your way home, and then you were gone. ”
“I’m okay,” I say quickly, stumbling over the words, desperate to stop the flood before it swallows me whole. “I’m okay, I swear. I just… had to leave with Maksim. It’s complicated, but I’m okay, I promise. I’m safe now.”
“Complicated?” she echoes, breathless. “Ivy, you vanished! This scary guy showed up at our house and told Mom and Dad not to file a police report or else something bad would happen to you! If Maksim took you, then who the hell was that guy? One of his… uh, soldiers? Jesus, I thought you were dead!”
I lie, because it’s easier than the truth. Because I can’t get into it, not now. “No, no, I… wasn’t kidnapped. It wasn’t like that. He’s helping me with something. I… I can’t explain everything yet, but I’ll be home soon. I promise. I just wanted to call and tell you I’m okay.”
There’s a heavy silence on the other end. I can almost picture her pacing the room, hand pressed to her forehead with tears forming in her eyes that she’d never admit to shedding. “Is Leo with you?”
The question guts me.
“Yes,” I lie.
“Jesus, Ivy…” She breathes, and then I hear her sniffle slightly. “Don’t scare me like that. I was going out of my mind. I had all these scenarios playing in my head…”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Lettie. I didn’t mean to disappear on you like that.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Okay. Just… please come back soon. Promise?”
“I will. I just needed you to know I’m alive. And that I love you.”
“I love you too,” she says, voice cracking again. “I mean it. You better come home or else.”
“I will as soon as I can. I have to go, but I’ll try to call again. You be careful too, okay? Don’t talk to anyone about this. Don’t answer any other unknown numbers besides this one. If anyone starts asking questions about where I am, pretend you don’t know me. Promise me.”
“Okay,” she says. “I promise.”
When the line goes silent, I’m left staring at the slowly darkening screen, grief and resolve twisting together in my chest like barbed wire.
I close my eyes and tighten my grip around the burner phone until the edge of it digs into my palm. The pain grounds me, pulls me back from the edge of unraveling. This is the path I’ve chosen. This is the cost I’ve decided to pay in exchange for my son’s life.
Maksim will end up hating me for it, for betraying him and even thinking of trying to convince him to hand over the Bratva to the man who took our son.
But maybe… hopefully, one day, he’ll understand that I didn’t do it to hurt him. That every lie, every deal, every risk was for Leo.
I swallow hard, blinking back the burn in my eyes, and draw a long, steady breath.
If I can’t be forgiven for it now, then maybe the only redemption left for me will be in making sure Leo lives long enough to mend the bridge between his father and me himself.