Day 15Analiese
Day 15
Analiese
I wake up feeling sad and heavy in a way I can’t explain. The sun is up, shining through the window and casting streaks of gold across the carpet and the bed that I’m alone in.
Vasily never came home last night.
That happened a lot the first week. He’d be up already, possibly gone for the day. And then there was the awful night when I almost died by kiwi. So silly, but we all learned a lesson at least. There have been the nights at Kseniya and Miguel’s, but this is the first morning he hasn’t been here in his own bed with me since the fruit salad incident. I shouldn’t feel sick about this, but I do.
I stay in bed longer than I should, foolishly hoping that he’ll appear, that he just came home after I fell asleep and decided that he should let me sleep unmolested. It’s my last night in this bed, after all. The clock’s ticking. We leave today.
I just don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know if Colorado is reasonable.
And I don’t know where Vasily is.
I’m sure if something had happened, Dima would have woken me up. He wouldn’t have left me here alone. Vasily wouldn’t have liked that, and it’s clear Vasily outranks Dima, and that’s everything.
Unless it’s not Dima here with me. Someone else could be out there waiting for me to wake up, waiting to give me bad news. Terrible news.
I’m going to vomit.
I can stay in bed for longer, hide from it, but it takes all of two more seconds for me to decide that if I don’t find out, I’m going to give myself a heart attack. The moment my feet hit the rug, I’m heading to the door.
It’s Dima sitting in the living room, in his chair, seeming to be staring at the TV although it’s not actually on. He doesn’t look at me, just says, “Pack your bags.”
I taste the bile in my throat, and I have to force myself to say, “Is Vasya okay?”
The corner of his lip tics. Not a frown, not a smile. Just a tic, like the question defies any emotion he can portray. But I refuse to turn back to the room to pack as he’s told me. He doesn’t control me. No one does, not anymore.
Vasily and I are going to be partners. That’s the deal we made. Not with those words, exactly, but I didn’t need the words to know that the only ownership he has over me is the ownership I have over him.
My knee wobbles.
Dima caves and offers me a wry smile. “Is he ever okay? Go on now, he asked me to have you pack your bags and take you to him.”
That sets me at ease. I’m not going to drill Dima further, not when I don’t know how much he knows or what he thinks is happening. He might be trying to figure out what we’re up to, and I don’t want to give him any clues. Perhaps something did happen last night and Vasily couldn’t come back to get me, because he’s already on the run.
Denver. We’ll meet in Denver.
His brother seemed nice when I met him, but I remember my Uncle Enzo being the nicest guy ever, always bringing Tony and me candies and taking us to the park, even took us to Disneyland one time.
Years later, I found out that trip was an alibi for him to be in California at the same time that his best friend was murdered. By him. I never knew what happened there, but I remember him crying the hardest at Uncle Frankie’s funeral and reminiscing about him the most grandly. To this day, I think he killed someone he loved fiercely simply because that man did something that was to the detriment of la famiglia .
I never thought to ask Vasily how Artyom would respond to us leaving, and even if I did, I don’t know how accurate his response would be. Two weeks ago, I would have never said my brother would sell me for $150,000.
I work fast to pack my bags with stuff I think will be most important to us on the road. I take comfortable clothes I can wear every day, a single outfit that’s just professional enough I think it will work for job interviews at minimum wage places, and my backpack. I have to debate about my computer because I’m not sure if I can be tracked that way, finally deciding that in a couple days, we’ll stop somewhere that I can get a jump drive to back up what I need before selling it.
I pack two small purses, a pair of jeans, and two dresses that I know I can sell for a couple thousand.
Bed linens and towels. Some of Vasily’s clothes in case he didn’t get a chance to pack. His toiletries, too. Dima doesn’t question me when I grab my favorite cookbooks, a cast iron skillet, and a big bag of trail mix from the kitchen. I want to grab that Xbox, but I don’t know if Dima plays it, too.
I walk through Vasily’s bedroom one last time. I didn’t think I’d miss it when I left, not even an hour ago when I started packing, but this room is where I discovered I could live my own life and make my own decisions. Where I found someone who I could live with without feeling I was his lesser.
I love him so much it hurts, and already, my chest aches knowing that we’re leaving this place behind.
Where we’re going? It’s the unknown. It’s terrifying. But we’ll brave it together, and no matter what happens out there, I know I’ll be loved.
I try to keep a straight face, I even try for dour, when I wheel my suitcases out and tell Dima I’m ready to go, but I know my heart is overflowing and there’s no way to hide that.
We head south, toward Phoenix. Nerves start to get me as we drive, but depending on what Vasily’s plan is, Phoenix might be a necessary evil. There is an airport in Flagstaff, but it only has a couple commercial flights, and we’d be easy to track. I just wish I didn’t have to get so close to my brother.
We only get to Sedona before Dima pulls off the highway and navigates through town to a small but sleek and modern office complex. There’s a handful of cars in the parking lot, none of them standing out too much, and when we enter the building, Dima uses a key card. Wherever we are, we belong here.
Dima takes me to the third floor by elevator, only to lead me to a stairwell and up another story, to the roof.
It’s winter, but it’s Arizona. The roof is stark, bleached by the sun that, though weak this time of year, still blazes down on us, whiting out the world temporarily so that my senses are filled solely with a loud whopping sound. In my confusion, I think it’s the climate control system, but then my vision focuses enough that I can finally see that there are four helicopters on the roof. I don’t have time to get a good look at any of them, though, as Dima leads me forward. My suitcases, one in his hand and one in mine, bump around on the loose gravel and whatever other detritus has gathered on the roof.
I hear nothing but the helicopters, but ahead of me, I see at least eight people, mostly tall, imposing figures. I think they’re all men, but they have their backs to the sun, so they’re only shapes initially.
It’s Vasily who comes into focus first, and that fills me with some measure of relief even though none of this feels right. Vasily is here, so it’s going to be okay. He loves me. He’s going to protect me. Wildly, I have this thought that if we go down, we’ll go down together. Bonnie and Clyde style.
I smile.
He remains still. He has sunglasses on, so I can’t see too much emotion from him. With the figures around him, I don’t take offense to the stone face he’s giving me. He may be needing to play it cool for whomever they are.
So I do the same. I follow close behind Dima until he stops and gestures for me to do the same. We’re still fifteen feet or so away from Vasily and the rest of the men, but I finally have the opportunity for my eyes to adjust. I’m able to see that the men are divided slightly, a group of five with Vasily in the middle, and I recognize that on the edge of that group is Kostya. He’s wearing a light-colored shirt, and what I initially think is a tasteless pattern I soon realize is actual blood splatters. He’s also got a split lip and a black eye, although I’d still describe him as none the worse for wear. He’s had a rough night, but he’s standing tall. The man on the opposite end is vaguely familiar, someone I’ve seen this week, also looking rough, but I can’t name him. The two men standing directly next to Vasily are older and in suits. I don’t know them, but I recognize mob bosses when I see them, and they are mob bosses.
Bratva bosses? I don’t actually know how the Bratva works, not on the level of Mafia syndicates. Either way, Vasily’s hand are in his pockets and he has a fairly relaxed stance like he’s not in trouble, but those guys look an awful lot like trouble.
And with the dark clothes Vasily wears, he looks in better shape than Kostya and the other one, but that just makes the speckles of blood spray on his neck and the thin slice on his cheek stand out that much more against his pale skin.
“Lacey, come here.”
It’s not Vasily speaking, of course. He’d never call me Lacey. And it’s none of the men standing with him, because he’d hurt them if they did. It’s one of the men in the other group of three.
It’s Tony.
I look frantically between Vasily and Tony. I only pause on Tony long enough to make sure he’s not been injured, that it’s not his blood that marks Vasily, that there hasn’t been an altercation that resulted in me going with Tony. But he looks fine, and he’s dressed in clothing light enough that I’d see blood if he was hurt. He’s dressed casual, in fact, like he didn’t think he was going to be leaving the house or entertaining guests and was planning to veg on the sofa for a while.
He looks defeated, too. I don’t understand why he’s telling me to come to him when everything about his shrunken stance and his hung head tells me he’s the weakest man here. Even Gino to his left stands more proudly, although he’s got a grim look about him.
They’re saying goodbye to me. I don’t know what all is happening, who those other two men with Vasily are. I have a sinking feeling Colorado is not in my future and I’m not going to like what’s about to happen, but Tony and Gino — and Nicky Leo, the guy on Tony’s other side — are morose because they know they’ve lost me to the Bratva, and that makes them sad. Gino’s going to have to go back to Camilla and tell her that she’ll never see me again.
It’s enough to get me moving toward them, the sorrow hitting me. Tony was a dick to me. He treated me like trash, like the Prada purse in the bottom of my bag that I would have abandoned at the condo if I didn’t know how much I could sell it for. But he’s also my brother and the last of my family. Gino’s wife is my best friend, and even though we both kind of knew where this was going, we never said it. We never really said goodbye.
The thought drives me faster, until I’m running and throwing myself into a startled Tony’s arms. Not excited to see me, just startled, but he’s a dick. He’s got to play it cool.
He does hug me, and after a long moment, he even laughs roughly. “They took good care of you?” he asks as though needing reassurance that he should let me go, and that might be the nicest thing he’s ever done. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder and he has missed me far more than I missed him. Did he realize what a terrible mistake he made? Does he feel regret over sending me to Flagstaff? Is he relieved now to see that I’m okay?
“They did. He did. It’s going to be okay. I love him.”
Tony flinches at that. His arm stiffens around my waist even as he seems to pull away from me. He locks me in place, but he looks me in the eye to say, “It’s time to come home, Lacey.”
I frown and look to Vasily. He’s not looking at me. He’s watching Dima approach him. Dima stops directly in front of him and drops to his knees.
What the hell is happening?
“Vasya?” I call out, squirming in Tony’s grip. He lets me go, but only for Nicky Leo to catch me when I’m two steps away and pull me back, and this time, the grip is unforgiving. I reach out, desperate for Vasily to pull me away, or even the bloodied man who’s closest to me, but they ignore me. I flop over Nicky Leo’s arm, and no one cares.
Vasily holds his hand out, but Dima catches that and kisses the ring on it.
Not his ring. That’s not Vasily’s ring.
That’s Artyom’s ring.
Vasily has Artyom’s ring.
“Vasily!” I scream again. I kick back at Nicky Leo, shrieking, “Let me go!” when his other arm straps across my chest to pin me back.
Vasily looks my way then. His lips twitch, but with those glasses, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Please, Vasya!” I beg. “Don’t let them take me, please!”
The six men, now that Dima has joined them, approach me. Gino on Tony’s other side inches his hand toward his gun but does it clearly enough that it’s a message to the Russians that he’s on alert. No one else reaches for their piece.
Vasily gets close enough to me that I feel his warmth. Still, I can’t see through the reflective lenses, and I start squirming again against Nicky Leo.
He touches my cheek. His fingertip is sticky with blood. I lean into it anyway, desperate to feel him more, for him to take me away and explain what’s going on, to hold me close while he tells me whatever nightmare we face next.
We’ll face together.
I just need him to tell me we’ll be together.
“Fifteen days,” he says, his attention turning to Tony. “The debt is paid. She is yours.”
I break at that. My weight flops down, and Nicky Leo has to hold me up to keep me from folding in half. He can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks, though.
“Vasya, no!” I sob. “I’m yours. I’m not his, I’m yours.”
“Not anymore,” he says as simply as if he hadn’t pledged himself to me not even 24 hours ago, like he didn’t brand me his.
“I love you,” I whimper. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“Go on, now. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
I kick out at that, anger punching me in the gut. “You can’t–you didn’t–you—”
“I did what I was commanded to. I took payment.”
“You ruined me.”
His lip curls into a cruel sneer. He’s not Vasily. He’s a monster. He’s a doppelganger. This can’t be right.
“Yes, that was the payment. Goodbye, Analiese.”
He turns without another word and boards one of the choppers. The other men follow him. It’s a couple seconds that are an eternity in the blink of an eye before the chopper lifts up off the roof and into the sky, leaving me forever.
To Be Continued . . .
Vasily the Hammer
June 16 th , 2025