Day twenty-nine…

Twenty-two hours since I’ve let myself see Willow. That shouldn’t matter, but it does. I’ve checked in on her every day. I’ve told her that I can’t be with her more often because I’m busy wrapping up an enormous project for work – the first time I’ve ever felt the need to explain my actions to her, or anyone.

It’s 7:30 in the morning in California, 6:30 p.m. in the Pevlova Oblast.

The media room is our war room today. We sit there by the computer, taking phone calls, reading emails, watching video feeds. Coordinating with our men on the ground.

Yesterday we did something truly evil – even for us. We opened up the whorehouse that we’d spent the last couple of months building. It’s in a tiny, remote town, an hour from the city of Pevlovagrad. Cataha recently rounded up a new shipment of girls. We hijacked his shipment and took them to our own brothel, and handed them over to the eager clients from all over the Pevlova oblast, the men who think their money and connections confer the right to rule over lesser mortals like cruel gods.

There was no other way to shut down the trafficking in the area for good. The mayor and the police chief of the central city of Pevlovagrad, both of whom were in power when my brother and I were taken fourteen years ago, were still in power, and still addicted to abusing women. They were also addicted to taking bribes from traffickers and wealthy clients in exchange for protection. As long as they were still in office, the trafficking business in Pevlova would never end.

So we let the men in our new whorehouse have their way with the women. Just one more black mark in my book of sins. We needed the men’s crimes on video.

After a few hours, when we’d gotten enough video on the secret surveillance system that we’d installed in the building, we contacted Akim. If we’d just contacted the local police department, there wouldn’t have been a raid at all. But with the media alerted, the police had no choice.

The police called ahead at the whorehouse to let the security detail know they were coming, so the place could be cleared out of girls and clients. But the security detail work for me, and so, oops, the warning never got passed along.

So the police swooped in and were angry to see that everyone was still there. Reluctantly, they rescued the women, and they made half a dozen token arrests of the least important men there, and they let the police chief and the mayor go.

But we had captured it all on video, and now we’ve struck our final blow. We’ve sent the video to Akim, and it’s exploded. It’s gone viral on social media. It’s front-page news all over the world. The federal police storm in, and the mayor is dragged out of his house in front of the news cameras, in his pajamas, screaming and crying. The police chief knows what he can expect in prison; rather than submitting to a lifetime of being beaten and ass-raped, he opens fire on the men who have come to take him in, wounding several before they kill him. Much too merciful and fast an ending, but at least it is an ending.

Even better, it sends a message to the smaller police departments throughout the entire oblast, and the surrounding districts as well. They will be less likely to take bribes from traffickers, or even to allow the traffickers to operate in their districts, because now they fear suffering the same fate. When they are notified of trafficking operations, they’ll be obligated to act, or risk exposure.

I could take this news to Willow to reassure her that she’s right, that there is still some human decency in me.

But instead, I’m going to tell her something else. I’m going to twist it around. Make myself a villain. I’ll tell her some lies, I’ll tell her some truths.

It’s the only way to save her.

She’s the only thing that matters.

* * *

It’s warm this afternoon, about eighty degrees, which is rare this far up the coast. The sun has burned away the last wisps of morning fog. I’m outside in the xeriscaped portion of the garden, strolling along pebbled paths among the cactuses and succulents.

I can’t believe I’ve made it to thirty days this time.

I smile ruefully at the thought. Once upon a time, I couldn’t wait for my captivity to be over. Now I can’t wait to see what Sergei has planned for us next.

Anastasia hurries up the pebbled path, waving a fat sheaf of papers.

“It’s all here!” she cries out.

“Say what, now?”

“The deed to this house. In your name.” She grins at me, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Uneasiness prickles me.

Oblivious, she chatters away. “This house was purchased with legitimate money. He told me that he offered you the house, and you said you’d only take it if he could prove he didn’t buy it with dirty money.”

I shake my head in denial. That isn’t exactly what I said. He offered me the house, and I said I wouldn’t take anything purchased with dirty money. I didn’t say I’d accept the house.

Anastasia continues. “I’ve read through all the paperwork, I made phone calls and went online to look at property records to verify it. He owned a chain of warehouses nationwide, and he sold that company to purchase this property. And now he’s transferred it into your name.”

“What? But I don’t want it!” Full-blown panic is blooming inside me. This is bad. This is wrong.

“But why?” Anastasia’s smooth brow wrinkles in confusion. “The money that Vilyat gave me? You were right, Willow. That money is filth, and it’s wrong for me to keep it. I talked to Helenka and Yuri about it. We sent the money as a donation to Operation Salvat.”

“You know what it is? We couldn’t find it anywhere online. How did you find out?”

At that, her smile falters. “I called an old friend of mine in St. Petersburg, Raisa. She was one of the little girls from the whorehouse where I was taken. One of the few survivors. Poor girl was there getting screwed a hundred times a week until she was fifteen and managed to escape. She’s scarred up inside, can’t have kids. Now she’s an anti-trafficking activist. Operation Salvat is a secret group that helps victims of human trafficking. They’re kind of like a modern day underground railroad. They hide them, buy them new identities, give them money to buy a new start. So now Vilyat’s filthy money is being given back to his victims. Poetic justice, yes?”

“Yes. I just…I don’t feel right taking this house. Or Sergei’s money.”

Anastasia looks worried now. “Without it, we literally have nothing, Willow. The IRS are crawling all over Vilyat’s finances. They’re going to take every asset we ever had.”

I make myself nod my head. “I see. Then…I guess we have to stay here. I mean, it does have those great rooms he set up for the kids… It’s beautiful, it’s safe here…”

If he’s giving us the house, what does that mean for him and me?

She babbles on. “He’s got a trust fund set up to pay the taxes and maintenance for this house, for the next thirty years. How wonderful is that? We can all live here. Helenka and Yuri and you and me. Nobody will be after us. We can live our lives. We can do whatever we want. Yuri is talking about designing cars. Helenka wants to open a chain of self-defense studios for women when she grows up. Isn’t that glorious?”

I force myself to answer in a bright, cheerful tone.

“It’s amazing! Really great! Wow, I…didn’t expect that at all.”

I am getting colder and colder. I can’t feel the sunshine at all. I see Jasha heading towards us on the path. I don’t like the look on his face.

Anastasia looks at me skeptically. “Willow? Why aren’t you happy? This is a party! This is time to crack open the champagne! Are you feeling all right?”

“I don’t know yet.” No, I’m pretty sure I know. I’m pretty sure that soon, I won’t be in a mood to celebrate.

“Hey, Jasha! Why the sour puss? We are all celebrating! Get us some champagne and come dance with me!” She does a little dance move, swaying her hips and grinning at him in a way I’ve never seen her smile at a man.

For her, he manages to crack a smile. “I will in a little while. We’ll dance all night long, I promise.”

“Woo-hoo!” she spins in a happy circle. “Willow, I’m going to cheer you up if it kills me.”

Jasha gestures at me, and with a sinking heart, I hurry towards him, letting me lead me inside.

He takes me to Sergei’s office. I’ve only been there once before.

He’s on the phone as I come in. Waving his free arm around. For some reason, I notice that the braided bracelet that he always wore before is gone now. I’ve never seen him without it. The bracelet woven from the sinews of the wolf that killed his little brother.

He’s shedding his past.

Sergei’s voice booms through the air. “That’s great, Ludmila. You’re beautiful. Love you! I’ll see you soon. I can’t wait.”

He hangs up and looks up at me as I stand there, swaying, in shock.

As if I’m so stupid that I wouldn’t guess that he arranged for me to come in at just the right time, so I’d hear that phone call.

“Oh, hi, Willow. I just wanted to make sure that you got the paperwork. Everything’s all arranged. I’ll be leaving tonight.”

I storm across the room. “What the hell was that?” I demand. “Who were you talking to?”

The words that he says are impossible words. They don’t belong in his mouth. “My wife.”

His wife?

I gasp. I stagger, and Jasha, who has hurried up next to me, catches me so I don’t fall.

“You’re lying.”

He shakes his head.

“No. I warned you about me, Willow. How many times do I need to tell you what an utter bastard I am? But I do want to thank you You’ve served your purpose. You helped me find your uncle.”

“This isn’t you,” I say desperately. “You said you cared about me.”

He nods, and the pity on his face is a knife through my gut. “I do. I didn’t lie about that. I meant every word I said. You are a wonderful woman. A man can care about more than one woman, can’t he? But I have obligations. I need to get back to my real family.”

Furious, I snatch a decorative inkwell from his desk and throw it at him, and it bounces off his forehead. Blood trickles down his face.

Jasha just stands there. He doesn’t try to stop me, or to defend his boss.

“This isn’t you, it’s not, it’s not!” I’m desperate for proof, something I can say that will make him stop stabbing me with hideous, brutal words. “You’re not evil!” I scream at him. “You…you’re running Operation Salvat! I know what it is, it’s a rescue group! You help take down traffickers, you help save the victims!”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Not at all. I need to keep track of them so they don’t interfere with my own operations.”

Is he trying to claim that he’s a trafficker himself? That’s madness. Why would he tell me such a sick lie?

Tears pour down my face, and I’m shaking with sobs. “Now I know you’re lying. I know it! There are things even you can’t fake. You hate people who traffic in children. I’ve seen your physical reaction.”

Sergei nods. Words march out of his mouth, strung together in sentences that must be, have to be, fiction.

“That’s true. I would never traffic children. And really, we’re not as bad as the other traffickers. All our girls are eighteen or older, and we actually pay them a percentage of the money they earn. They all get to use condoms and they’re tested for disease every week. We don’t bring in men who would torture or harm them. And after three years, we let them go, with enough money that they can start over in life. I mean, by the end of the three years, they don’t look that good anymore anyway, so they’re not worth as much.”

Every single word is a knife blow. I cannot survive this.

I can’t be that wrong.

He can’t be a pimp.

“Stop lying to me!” I scream. I’m a desperate, panicked animal. “Why are you doing this?”

He just sits there without a word, and the sad sympathy gleaming from his eyes is worse than a punch to the face.

I grab a metal globe paperweight and throw it at him with all my strength, and it gashes him so hard that blood sprays from his cheek. Scarlet rivulets run down his face and splash onto his shirt.

He doesn’t move at all.

I realize he’ll just stand there and take anything I dish out at him. He won’t stop me. Jasha won’t stop me. I think Sergei would let me kill him. I almost think he’d welcome it.

But I can’t.

“I love you. I want you to stay with me,” I plead.

“You want to stay with a married man who’s a pimp? You want to come to Russia with me and be my mistress?” He looks puzzled. Blood runs down his cheek and drips onto his shirt. “You know, you were right that Lukas is my son. My wife misses her son. My work is done here, and we need to go home.”

“Fuck you! You lying bastard! If you want to break up with me, you could say so without lying like this.”

“Exactly.” He spreads his palms. He doesn’t even try to staunch the steady river of blood that continues to flow. “I have no need to lie. Which should make it pretty obvious that I’m telling the truth.”

“You are a coward! A disgusting, filthy, coward.” Once upon a time, if I insulted him like that, he would have turned into a raging beast. He would have dragged me down the hall to his playroom and beaten me until my flesh burned with agonizing pleasure, and then he would have had sex with me. He would have made me beg for his tongue and his cock.

That will never happen again.

Because my world just flipped inside out into a horrible lunatic nightmare. The sun is cold and up is down and words are bullets.

I’m crying so hard now that I’m dizzy. I fall to my knees and wail. I hug myself, screaming and rocking.

Jasha kneels down next to me. He pats my back awkwardly.

“He shouldn’t have done that to you,” he says.

Shouldn’t have done what? Lied, or told the truth?

Either one is the end of my world.

I plant my palms on the floor in a desperate attempt to hold myself steady. The room is spinning.

“Listen,” Jasha’s voice is saying from the ceiling. “My mission, my work for Sergei, is done. I will stay here with Anastasia and the children, and I will protect them. And you! Of course, you too. That is my new mission.”

I’ve seen the way he looks at Anastasia. I’ve seen how the kids’ mistrust of him has turned to admiration, how they follow him around pestering him with questions, and how he answers, gruffly but with affection. How protective he is, how he chides them when they do anything that he thinks might possibly put them in danger.

He will stay with them. They’ll be all right. Thank God for that, because I’m falling into an abyss with no bottom.

I look up and Sergei is gone.

I try to stand, and fall back to my knees. My thirty days is up. Sergei was as good as his word. He didn’t just set me free; he expelled me from his world.

Sergei left, and he took my heart with him.

I curl up in a tight ball, rocking, my mind splintering.

“This isn’t over,” I scream at the indifferent heavens, my voice crazed. I don’t know what I’ll do next, but I’m no longer sweet little Willow, the girl who bends for everyone. He doesn’t get to do this to me. I will find out the whole truth of the man, no matter how ugly it is, no matter the consequences.

And if he’s telling the truth, if he’s married, and a human trafficker – then heaven help him, because I will tear his life to shreds like the monster I’ve become. Like the monster that he made me.

* * *

Day thirty, nighttime…

As my plane glides over the twinkling landscape below, I glare out of the window, and I don’t bother to try to hide the tears streaming from my eyes. My men have never seen me like this before, but everything about our life is new and strange now. They pour themselves drinks from the minibar, and Maks shoves a bottle of vodka and a glass at me.

I open it without looking at it and drink directly from the bottle.

There are so many things that I want to tell her, need to tell her, and I can’t.

An hour ago, Jasha gave me a look of utter disgust and fury when I went to say goodbye to him. His arm was looped around Anastasia’s slender waist, and she clung to him and looked like she wanted to murder me. Our little group of survivors is shrinking. Now I’ve just got Maks and Slavik in my inner circle.

Slavik clears his throat. “It’s not that I like her, or care about her. I mean, she’s Vasily’s daughter. And I’ve never questioned you before. But…you didn’t need to do that.”

My voice is raspy with sorrow. “I did. I broke her heart, but I saved her life.”

“Let the stupid bitch cry until she chokes,” Maks growls. “She’s a fucking Toporov.”

“Watch what you say about her.” I clench my shaking fist.

“Yes, sir.” His voice is thick with resentment. His gaze is dull. He’s dazed by our success. He paces back and forth and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself.

“You don’t need to come with me, you know. Either of you. Because this is a suicide mission we’re on now.”

“At least it’s a mission.” Maks flings himself back in his chair. He’s reacting as I thought he might. Killing Vilyat and shutting down the last of the traffickers was a high. Now he’s on a low. Without a mission, he’ll fall apart. Earlier today, I offered him ownership of any of my companies, and he just cursed me and threw a cup of coffee at the wall.

As for Slavik, his face is impassive as usual, and I can’t tell what he’s feeling, but he also refused to take over any of my businesses, and he looked insulted when I suggested he didn’t have to come with me.

The plane rises higher and higher, taking me away from my love, my life. I wish I could tell her why I’ve done what I’ve done. I wish I could take her with me, but that would be selfish, and if there’s one thing that I’ve finally learned from Willow, it’s that I need to do at least one selfless thing in my life, to be worthy of the love that she gave me.

The love that I’ll never have again.