Chapter 55
1705words
My nails tug at the prayer beads on my wrist. I debated wearing them—it felt like the antithesis of my drive to escape Asher to end up with his prayer beads in my possession. But somehow, the sensation of them hugging my wrist brings comfort.
His eyes were full of so much torment when he gave them to me. It was overwhelming; I almost backed out of my plan. But he left so quickly that I didn't have a chance to change my mind.
Though he assured me he wouldn't stop me from leaving, I wasn't about to get sloppy. The next morning when the van arrived, I was watching for it from my window. Layla had instructed me to work my way covertly down to the pantry once I spotted it.
With sweat collecting in every crevice of my body, I tiptoed to the pantry. Layla wasn't there, but my mother was.
'Camila," she gushed, hugging me tight. 'Is this really going to work?"
'Yes," I said, faking my bravado. Helping her into the large wooden box stamped with faded markings from whatever farm was selling bulk potatoes via Asher's bank account, I shut the top. There was a barrel meant for pickles beside her. I stuffed myself into it. The aroma of vinegar made me nauseous, and I barely fought back the urge to vomit.
Someone tapped lightly on the lid, sending my nerves to the moon. 'Don't make a sound." It was Danil's voice.
After that, every bump or shift of being transported gave me waves of hope. But I didn't breathe easily until the van stopped and Adriana opened the barrel. Her giant grin sent me into tears.
Now, sitting in the law office of Jonah Sanders, her husband, my nerves are back.
'Hey," Adriana says, reaching over the table to pat my hand. It's one of the longest tables I've ever seen; you could easily seat twelve people along the mirror-polished wood.
'I'm fine," I assure her with a smile.
Her attention darts to my mother beside me. 'Katinka? How are you holding up?"
Mom tips her chin up, brushing her long hair from her face. She's wearing a waist-cinched mauve jacket with faux fur on the trim. It's got to be sweltering in the warm office, but she's refused all offers to hang it up. The outfit is one she packed to bring to Asher's place. She took her whole suitcase with her when we fled. I left everything behind except my phone and my father's brooch. The things I really care about are already part of me.
They didn't require any packing.
My mother nods at Adriana, but her voice is tight. 'When is Jonah coming?"
'Soon," Adriana replies quickly. She's beaming. If you didn't know her well, you wouldn't recognize she was anxious. She flicks her eyes at the door, then peers at her phone. When she sees me looking, she puts it away and grins wider.
'He's probably finishing last-minute stuff. Busy, busy guy."
Mom scans the office. Her attention lingers on the expensive TV mounted to one wall; the huge windows have a killer view of the city. 'I imagine he must be."
Adriana blushes, picking up the undertone of my mother's words. She must feel awkward to have her husband's well-paid job thrown in our faces, knowing how we've been struggling for years to keep the studio from shutting down. Of course, we never asked Adriana for money. Mom was too proud, and I guess I was fine pretending things would work out somehow.
The door bursts open. 'Sorry I'm late!" Jonah crows, his grin sliding into place as comfortably as a well-worn pair of shoes.
Speaking of shoes ...
His outfit drips money. I thought Asher was ostentatious, but Jonah blows him out of the water. His cap-toe Oxford dress shoes look like he took them directly off the sales floor before waltzing in here. His slim black tie, patterned cobalt suit, and onyx cufflinks complete the ensemble.
'It's okay," Adriana answers. 'We didn't?—"
'Coffee?" he interrupts, setting his briefcase on the table before grabbing the pot, which none of us have touched yet, off the far counter. Though the basket of individually wrapped muffins and stack of oranges and bananas are tempting, my guts are too unruly to handle food. 'These are freshly ground beans from Sea Glass. Amazing stuff, you have to try it."
I give Adriana a squinty glance. She cringes, mouthing, He can be oblivious, sorry, at me. Turning in my chair, I flash a tense smile at Jonah.
'We're good. I think we just want to get started on everything."
'Great, the sooner the better!" He slaps himself lightly on the forehead. 'I shouldn't get distracted. I'm a comfort first kind of guy, you know?" He slides his attention over my mother and me. 'You two! You've been through something awful. I want to get you relaxed, make you understand you're safe now."
He's saying the right things. But why is my stomach clenching?
'Thank you, Jonah."
'Yes," Mom adds, 'we really do appreciate what you're doing for us."
'It's nothing!" Waving his hands up and down for emphasis, he sits next to Adriana. She smiles brightly at his nearness. The way she looks at him, that adoration, makes me pluck at the prayer beads anew. I wish I had what she does. I really do.
Pulling his briefcase closer, he flicks the latches open. 'Now then, my colleagues and I want to know everything."
'Everything?" I repeat.
He starts stacking piles of paperwork, talking all the while. 'When did Asher Volkov kidnap you, where did he take you, how long were you together, how many men he had on his property, and what details did he spill about his business? That sort of stuff."
'Oh." Rocking uneasily in my chair, I turn toward my mother. Her forehead is furrowed as she stares back at me. 'I thought we were just going to discuss how this witness protection program works."
'We will!" Laughing, he spins a pen between his long fingers. When he taps it in front of me, I read the name of his law firm along the length of it. 'But all of that is straightforward. Blah-blah-blah, new names, a safe house, the typical package. But the most important thing," Jonah leans toward me, eyes lighting up with fervor, 'is this city can finally be cleaned up."
An ice-cold sense of foreboding swims over me. 'What do you mean?"
'Isn't it obvious? The Grachev Bratva!" He flaps his hand, getting worked up by the conversation. 'If I can break them up … My God, I'll get a promotion unlike any that's ever happened before. It would change my life!" He stops, like he's remembered we're in the room with him. Smiling reassuringly, he scoops my hands into his. 'And it will change your life, Camila. You won't have to remain in witness protection. Which, by the way, can be dreadfully dull. Follow my plan, and everything to do with Asher Volkov will be eradicated entirely."
Eradicated. I don't like that word when it comes to Asher. But I don't have any power here. Suddenly, my situation with Jonah doesn't feel that different from the one I just escaped. Tugging my hands out of his, I slap on a pleasant grin.
'None of that involves me. I just want my mother and my baby to be safe."
'Not true." He's still smiling, but the kindness is gone. It's like being face to face with a mannequin. 'This is our only chance to get rid of the Grachev Bratva, and you have your part to play in this."
'I don't want to be a part of that."
'You have to, Camila. Either you help us, or you go down with Asher."
My spine goes straight as a rake. Adriana gapes across at me. She didn't know this was coming either. Was this why Jonah was slow to arrive? Was he discussing his grand plot with his coworkers or, God forbid, the police? I wonder if there are men with badges outside this room, ready to arrest me at a simple word from Jonah.
His attention flicks to my stomach. I slide backward, cradling my belly protectively. 'Prison doesn't care about new mothers," he whispers. 'There's no special treatment, not like I'm offering you."
My heart is racing as I read between the lines and hear the words he's not saying. If you go to prison, you'll never get to be with your baby. They won't even let you hold him.
'Camila," my mother urges, grabbing my shoulder gently. 'This is your chance to do for your child what I could never do for you." Turning me toward her, my mother stares directly into my eyes. Hers are watery with unshed tears. 'You can give yourself and your child freedom. Real freedom. Please, malyshka. This will be for the best."
Her sincere wish stretches beyond my lifetime. Put on the spot by her, as well as Jonah's blunt statements, I lose my voice. I don't know what to say.
No. That's not it.
I know … I'm just afraid. Once it leaves my lips, that's it. I can't take it back.
Rubbing Asher's prayer beads on my wrist beneath the table, I remember how defeated he sounded when he told me he wouldn't prevent me from leaving. He had to know that this was a potential risk—I'd spent too much time with him, seen too much, to not be of use to people like Jonah.
I can't spend energy worrying about him. Besides, he's got an army to keep him safe.
What do I have?
Layla once told me that we must do unthinkable things for survival. Forcing my chin not to wobble, I reach for the pen. Before I touch it, Jonah gives it a tap to push it closer to me. Even here, when I'm about to agree, he wants to hurry me along.
'If it means I get to be with my baby …" I say earnestly.
'It does." Jonah's face lights up with glee. 'You won't regret this, Camila."
He's wrong.
I already do.
