Page 137 of The Harbinger
How long did I have my eyes closed? Would the police be here any moment now? I’d never encountered Russian police before. How would they react to me being undocumented?
Only Sacha had a passport made for me, and I couldn’t exactly point them in his direction. It’d only lead him my way, which was the last thing I needed.
My heart clenched into a painful rhythm.I would never see him again.
I had resigned myself to the fact that I’d be with him until he tired of me or one of us died. But now, the thought of never seeing him again sent shockwaves through my body. I had become dangerously attached to the man who had cared for me when he didn’t have to.
The woman eyed me as she stirred the soup, her gaze glancing out the window as she shifted her stance at the stove.
Was she nervous about the police?
I pulled away the cloth stuck to my arm. The blood dried to my skin and fibers. I winced as it pulled away, tugging at my wound. It was more serious than I initially thought. It’d need stitches, but I’d worry about that later.
The couple above us quieted as I swallowed the remaining drops of my tepid tea. My jeans, still damp from the crossing, no longer dripped on her floor beneath me.
Screeching tires outside the complex, followed by three car doors slamming quickly, had my stomach swirling and my heart racing. I stood from my seat.
The police would take me now and either book me into jail or send me home to the states. Either way, this was the last I’d see of this place, the last I’d see of Sacha.
My heart cracked a little, and I turned, glancing out the window, my blood running cold in my veins.
Three black Mercedes SUVs sat parked outside her kitchen window, blocking the road from anyone exiting or entering. Dmitri stood at the rear passenger door while two other guards waited by their vehicles.
When Sacha emerged from the vehicle, my throat constricted as if a vice grip had taken hold. Every fiber of my being went into overdrive, with conflicting orders pulsing through my system, telling me to either move forward or retreat.
Sacha had always been a force to be reckoned with, a powerful figure who commanded respect and fear in equal measure. His mere presence was enough to send shivers down the spine of even the most hardened of individuals. And yet, here he was, stepping out of the vehicle and into my world once again.
I whirled around, my heart hammering into my breastbone, threatening to shatter my ribs. “What did you do?” I swiped my hands down my face as I paced the kitchen. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
The elderly woman dropped the ladle into the soup and turned in my direction, her arm raised. She shoved her sleeve to her elbow, revealing the faded oath tattooed into her wrinkly skin.
A sob broke out from my throat, and I covered my mouth, turning back to Sacha, who’d started walking towards the door.
They were everywhere and nowhere. They existed in the shadows and the light. Their presence was both a comfort and a threat.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I crossed the threshold into the bedroom, scanning the room for a means of escape. The walls closed in as hot flashes flushed my skin with sweat.
A window at the far end of her bedroom opened up to the street where their vehicles were parked, leaving me stuck in a room with no escape.
My breath stuck in my lungs as I spun around, taking in the cramped bedroom, my chest tightening. The bed lay low to the ground offering no hiding space. And the bathroom, with its cloth door, was nothing more than a flimsy barrier against the danger that lurked outside.
Sacha’s voice rumbled in the next room as he spoke to the woman. It rang in my ears like a calming vapor, except for his tone. Shivers raced up my spine as he unleashed his demons to chase after my soul.
I sank to the floor between the bed and the dresser, placing my hands over my head and hunched as small as I could make myself—the need to disappear stronger than the desire to breathe.
His feet scuffed against the hardwood floors as he entered the bedroom. I pulled my body into a tight ball and buried my face into my shaking knees.
“Imagine my surprise,” he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension that hung in the air like a shroud, “when I received a call fromBabushkaVarvara, telling me an American girl had emerged frommywoods seeking her help.”
A heavy ball formed in my belly as I held my face down, my tears soaking into my damp jeans.
His feet moved against the floor in front of me, stopping just before my toes. “Mia, look at me.”
My body trembled as his deceivingly calm tone worked its tendrils into my psyche, pleading with me to trust him.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
My full bladder pressed against my pubic bone as my knees knocked together. I couldn’t get in the car with him. I couldn’t leave. He owned this strange cult, and his followers were everywhere.