Chapter 22

“ANISSA”

When Rafail returns, he looks as if he’s encountered a ghost. I’ve never seen him so pale, even as his eyes are blazing and his thunderous voice booms across the restaurant.

“We’re in danger. More danger than you realize,” he says, his gaze flicking to mine with warning. “I can’t explain—not yet. You’ll have to trust me. I want all of you—every last one of you to go where I tell you.”

Grandfather is the first to get to his feet, his hand gripping his cane, serious eyes on Rafail. Uncle Eduard stares at him, but when he opens his mouth to ask questions, Rafail shakes his head. “Not now. You and your wife are free to do what you please, but since your sons have vowed themselves to me, they’ll go where I tell them.”

Gleb and Matvei follow wordlessly. It is a seamless execution, as no one questions Rafail’s instructions. Semyon, his cold, calculating eyes laser-focused on making sure we evacuate promptly, is shoulder to shoulder with Rodion, who looks as if he’s ready to toss a hand grenade or launch himself headfirst into an oncoming cavalcade.

Rafail doesn’t leave my side. Zoya, however, has gone white as a sheet.

“Where are we going, Raf?” she asks, her wide eyes troubled. She grips the back of the chair as though it’s grounding her in place. It isn’t the first time she’s faced fear like this, I know.

It isn’t the first time I have.

But when Rafail leans close to her, he drapes his arm around her and holds her. “You have to trust me, Zoya. I won’t let anyone hurt you—not ever. As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, gentling his voice while the rest leave quickly, wordlessly. He’s taken a moment in the midst of chaos to soothe his sister’s fears. God, I love him for that. “Can you do that for me?”

She nods. “Of course I can, yes,” she says.

I reach for her hand. “Stay with me. You’ll be alright, sweetheart. I have it on good authority your brother bought me a new pressie, and for some reason, I have a feeling I’m an excellent shot.”

She smiles at me, even as her lower lip trembles. Rafail pays the waitstaff with a flourish of bills, then leads the evacuation. At the exit, a team of sleek, gunmetal gray cars purr at the curb, uniformed men waiting for us. Zoya and I look to Rafail at the same time.

“Go,” he says quietly. “Trust me.”

If I have to trust him, then why doesn’t he meet my eyes?

Is he hiding something? It feels as if I have more questions than answers, and I don’t like it. He wants us to trust him blindly when I’ve never felt more confused.

“This way,” Rafail says, leading me to a car. Zoya gets into a car with her sister and brothers. I hardly see the others as everyone’s quickly leaving. “We’ll see them in a bit.”

Blindfolds rest ominously on the car seats, vivid reminders of our need to trust without question. “We’re going to the Popov safe house,” Rafail explains, his voice calm and controlled as always. “Even I don’t know where it is. We’re all blindfolded, no exceptions.”

My heart beats faster when he places the blindfold around my eyes. “I could have a lot of fun with this, Mrs. Kopolov,” he whispers in my ear, trying to keep things light.

I only swallow and shrug. Something tells me we’re on the cusp of a shift in our relationship. Something’s coming, and it will be big. Maybe even… catastrophic.

“What did he tell you, Rafail?”

Voices sound near us. “Wait. They’re checking to see if our blindfolds are in place. We’ll be recorded on the way in so no one peeks.”

I nod. My mouth is dry.

“And no, Anissa. I can’t tell you what he said, not yet. Please, just trust me.”

I want to trust him. But now, I have no choice. “Alright. Can you give me a hint?”

I hear the depth of his sigh in the silence before his hand reaches for me. Our fingers entwine. “All I can tell you is that we’re in grave danger… all of us. I have questions that need answers before I give you any more details.” The wheels of the car purr beneath us. I can’t see out the window, but I know we’re driving at a breakneck speed. My back is pressed to the seat, my feet glued to the floor.

I nod. “Okay.”

“Tell me this, Anissa.” I feel the reassuring warmth and weight of his hand on my thigh before he continues. “What can you remember? Tell me everything.”

My pulse races. I swallow hard. “Everything?” I ask him.

But what if what I tell him threatens… us? I don’t want it to.

What if I’m… happy being Anissa Kopolov?

And then he’s drawing me to him. In the dark, both of us blindfolded, we find each other’s hands. “Trust me. Please,” he whispers. “What you know could impact your safety, baby. Please, just trust me.”

Tears wet my blindfold as we careen toward whatever hideout we’ll be in next.

“I know my name’s not Anissa,” I begin in a whisper. “It’s Polina. I know it is. I can hear it loud and clear, and it isn’t just a dream anymore, Rafail. I had… have … brothers. Lots of them. And they were so good to me.” I blink and sniffle. His hand caressing my shoulder slows. “They were protective, yes, like you are with your sisters, but they loved me. I don’t know how I ended up here, and I can’t remember much more about my past. And I… I don’t know who Anissa is.” I shake my head. “But I’m not her.”

“What else?” he asks hoarsely. “I need to know.”

“But the doctor said that I can hurt my brain if I push?—”

“You must push. You have to. There’s no other way forward.”

My hands are shaking when he holds me tighter.

“I know that I came to Moscow because I was in danger. I remember running from you, and I know that… when I ran from you, I didn’t know you. But here’s the thing, I…” My voice trails off. I’m afraid of giving voice to my fears.

“What? Say it.” His voice is a harsh whisper.

“I don’t know if what I remember is real or not. I can’t tell the difference. Because sometimes, I imagine I worked in a hospital, and sometimes, I imagine I know how to shoot a gun. Sometimes, I think I do have sisters, but when memories from my childhood come back, I’m the only daughter.”

I close my eyes, the blindfold soaked. “I remember being a little girl, alone, and I remember a kind woman. And I know that she’s my mother.”

It’s absolutely brutal, telling him all this without being able to look at him.

“I want to see your eyes,” I say with a big sniff. “ Please , Rafail.”

“You can’t,” he says in a harsh whisper. “If you take off your blindfold, they’ll shoot you. Then I’ll have to murder them, and we’ll start a war in Moscow. The streets will be flooded with their blood, Anissa.”

He calls me that by habit now. I’ve adopted it as my name.

“Well, then. I guess I won’t take my blindfold off.”

He holds me in the quiet, stroking my shoulder with ease. “Tell me what else you know.” With a gentleness that belies the tight timbre of his voice, he kisses my cheek.

“I know that you love me,” I whisper. “I know that you’ll do anything for me. I know that you’ll protect me from whatever comes next, even if neither one of us knows what that is.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “ Yes. ”

I swallow the lump in my throat and sniffle. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yes,” I whisper vehemently, my need to know the truth choking me. “Tell me what you know. Please. ”

But he’s silent for long moments, so long, I wonder if something happened. I reach for his hand, but he’s warm and strong beside me.

“I can’t do that,” he finally says. “I can’t tell you anything. Not yet.”

My jaw drops open in shock. “That’s not fair. I told you everything, even the things I didn’t want to. You can’t refuse to do the same for me!”

“I can and will,” he snarls. I coil away from him. My nose tingles.

“Rafail,” I say reproachfully.

“You heard me,” he snaps. “We’re here. Remember to do exactly what I say. Exactly.”

“You demand my trust and obedience but won’t give me any answers in return. How is that fair, Rafail? What kind of love is this?” My hands are balled into fists.

“You were mafia, Anissa. You ought to know this. All’s never fair in love and war, especially if you’re raised in organized crime. Now behave yourself. Believe me when I tell you… you do not want to cross me right now.”

The air in here feels hot and stuffy. My nose is running, my eyes are swollen, and I’ve given myself a headache. And we’ve only just begun.

“Very nice,” I mutter. “Threatening your wife.”

“Eto ne byla ugroza!”

That was not a threat.

We come to a screeching halt. The door opens, and hands reach for me before there’s the sound of fists slamming on flesh. “Touch her and fucking die.”

Then it’s only Rafail. His familiar, rough but firm touch guiding me out of the car. The blindfold comes off, and I stare in front of me. We’re underground. I can tell by how cold it is here. The floor is concrete, the walls made of stone. Armed guards, standing in military formation holding loaded weapons, watch us with stony faces.

They all give Rafail a wide berth.

We march in silence together. I feel… betrayed. Yes, betrayed by his sudden withdrawal and cold words. I know he’s concerned, but it isn’t right that he expects me to tell him everything with no expectation of him giving me the same courtesy.

But I can’t think of that now, as we’re moving together, his siblings nearby and cousins behind us.

“Blindfolds off. Watch your step.”

I blink in the dim light but quickly find Rafail beside me. I’m pissed at him, and I will demand answers, but I still take no small solace in knowing he’ll protect me… protect all of us.

I quickly observe our surroundings. There isn’t one safe house, but several—a network of brightly lit interconnected rooms. Hidden beneath the city, the entrance is concealed with something up above, but none of us are able to see. The air is cold and damp down here and slightly musty, but it’s swept clean.

Two armed guards in front of us open the door for us. “Entry in or out must be approved by Mr. Popov,” a young, masked guard says. “Only accessible with biometric scanners. Anyone who tries to leave without explicit permission to do so will be immediately executed.”

The door swings open, and he gives us a sardonic smile. “Enjoy your stay.”