Chapter 44

Kimberly

April 19 th , Orlando, Florida

A s soon as Artem and Vova picked me up from the hospital we immediately started driving. I knew I was in Charleston, so I expected that we’d be driving back to Yaroslav’s home in Atlanta. It soon became evident we were heading south, in the wrong direction.

“Where are we going?” I asked, panic rising in my throat causing the words to come out strangled.

“Yaroslav is in Orlando, we’re taking you there,” Vova replied.

Artem darted a look of warning at Vova, clearly, he felt I shouldn’t have been provided with this information. Although I felt more relaxed, knowing I was being taken to Yaroslav. The fact I was being kept in the dark and treated with suspicion made me nervous. At the start of the six-hour drive, both men asked me questions and I tried to follow Bogdan’s instructions of what to say to the letter. Bogdan’s warning still echoed in my mind and my fear that there was a mole inside Yaroslav’s team made me cautious.

Even though Artem and Vova are two of Yaroslav’s closest allies, I couldn’t risk Gran’s life by doing anything other than what Bogdan instructed. I can’t trust anyone.

To stop them from asking more questions, I feigned sleep. Then, against all odds, I fell asleep for real, exhaustion finally winning out in the battle against my anxiety and fear-filled adrenaline.

I’m awoken by the sensation of the car coming to a stop.

“Wake up, we’re here,” Artem says, not unkindly, before getting out of the car and coming to open my door.

I blearily step out of the car and take in my surroundings, it’s getting dark already, the beautiful beachfront home is brightly lit against the twilight sky, and the only sound is the lapping of waves. It feels so different here, it’s hard to believe it’s still the same day. That in the early hours of this morning I was rescued and now I’m here in another state, about to be reunited with Yaroslav.

Movement in the upstairs window catches my eye and I notice David peeking out at me. He waves enthusiastically when he sees me, his face breaking into a wide grin and I wave back, unable to stop myself from smiling too. But then Yaroslav appears in the window, ushering David away. He glances down at me, and I smile, my hand still raised to wave, but he doesn’t smile or wave back. He turns away and walks out of sight. The smile falls from my face, and I drop my hand to my side feeling defeated and heartbroken.

Artem and Vova lead me inside to a bedroom with an ensuite, telling me I can shower and change before they need to speak further with me. Neither Yaroslav nor David come to greet me. I feel their absence like a physical blow.

The one thing getting me through this was the hope that Yaroslav would still feel as strongly for me as I do for him. Now it seems that he can’t even bear to look at me. He must blame me for Marta’s death. I know I do.

How can I tell him about our baby if he can’t even bring himself to look at me? Should I tell him? Will he ever be able to forgive me?

More pressingly now, how am I meant to protect my grandmother and do as Bogdan Sharkozi asked if Yaroslav doesn’t want to see me?

These are the thoughts that race through my mind as I strip out of my hospital-issued clothing and step into the shower. The warm water feels heavenly, I was able to clean up a bit at the hospital, but I could still feel the weeks of grime on my skin. I take my time scrubbing myself clean, as though I could wash away everything that’s happened. I wash my hair, wincing as I try to untangle the knots. I fear I may have to cut it all off, it’s so damaged through lack of care. I also feel the urge to remove it, as though somehow changing my appearance might make me a different person. One who isn’t in this predicament.

No wonder Yaroslav couldn’t look at me, I must look a state, like some bedraggled street urchin. I wonder if Bogdan’s escape story has had the wrong effect. Does Yaroslav think I’m soiled goods now? If he thinks I’ve slept with other men, that I’ve been pimped out and used up, maybe he doesn’t want me anymore. I know that nothing happened to me, that I’ve been with no one else since him, but will he believe that?

The shower helps to cleanse my skin and make me feel a bit more human, but it does nothing for my turbulent thoughts. When I finally finish and step out, my fingers wrinkled and pruned, the bathroom mirror steamed up, I wrap myself in a big fluffy white towel that enfolds me into a warm embrace and pad to the wardrobe. Inside, there’s a selection of women’s clothing I don’t recognize. I get dressed, putting on long, comfortable pants and a long-sleeved shirt, wanting to cover up as much of my gaunt body as possible after the skimpy outfit I was forced to wear. The clothes smell faintly of a scent I can’t quite pinpoint but that reminds me of Marta, and I feel tears welling up as I think of her.

I take a deep breath to gather my courage. I’m going to go and find Yaroslav, to force him to speak to me. He would know how sorry I am if he’d only let me speak to him. He’d see through it all and know the truth and help me. Wouldn’t he?

I fling open the door and find myself face-to-face with Vova, standing sentry outside my door. So, it seems I’m still a prisoner, I just have new jailors.

“Oh good, you’re finished. Mind if I come in?” he says, pushing past me before I can respond. “I thought we could have a little chat and run through your story again. We know you had to lie to the cops, but you don’t need to lie now, you can tell us the truth,” he says, gesturing for me to sit on the small couch at the end of the bed.

I sit and he grabs a chair from over by the window, dragging it to sit opposite me. His posture is relaxed as he tries to put me at ease. “So, tell me everything again, from the beginning.”

I take a deep breath and start talking. “After the explosion, Sharkozi’s men ambushed me and the man who was helping me to escape while Yaroslav went back for Marta. They shot the man and forced me into a car. They drugged me so I don’t know where I was taken. I was left for three days without food or water. Then they came and asked me questions, they beat me and abused me,” I say shakily.

Vova remains impassive. It kills me that I cannot tell anyone about Amelia, Bogdan forbade it. I want her to pay for what she’s done. But until Gran is safe, I can’t risk it.

“What questions did they ask?” Vova presses.

“They wanted to know about Yaroslav’s business, but I know nothing so there was nothing I could tell them. That’s when they decided to sell me. They didn’t think I was worth enough to Yaroslav because he hadn’t retaliated, they figured they’d get more selling me as a sex slave. Me and the other girls were going to be sent to the Middle East, an order from a wealthy sheik who wanted a variety of women,” I parrot the lie Bogdan told me.

Vova nods, seeming to accept my answer, but he continues to question me, trying to poke holes in my story. I stick to it, not breaking. His thoroughness makes me think that he must be on Yaroslav’s side, and I’m tempted to come clean, but then he says something that makes me pause.

“I imagine being back with the wolves doesn’t seem so scary now you’ve been with the bears.”

It reminds me of Bogdan’s final words to me. It could be a coincidence, it is after all a Russian saying, Vova’s Russian, and I know the Volkovs refer to themselves as the wolfpack. But still, I keep quiet.

At that point, Artem comes in and we resume the questioning, running through everything I just told Vova all over again. Artem seems far more inclined to believe me, backing up my story with evidence he’s found such as the shipping dossier for the container we were found in, heading for Saudi Arabia. Supposedly another girl in the container, no doubt a plant of Sharkozi’s, also said she heard that we’d all been chosen for our different nationalities and appearances.

While I’m grateful there’s evidence to back up my story, I can’t help now feeling suspicious. Is Artem backing me up because he’s Sharkozi’s inside man? I would never have questioned Yaroslav’s closest friends like this before, but then my best friend was the one who betrayed and tortured me. It’s no surprise my faith in friendship just isn’t what it used to be…

After they finally finish questioning me, Artem arranges for food to be brought up to my room. The smell makes my mouth water and I’m eager for them to leave so I can devour it, it’s been so long since I’ve eaten a good meal.

As they leave, they make it very clear that I am to stay here and not leave the room without outright saying I’m a prisoner.

“If you need anything, any time even in the middle of the night, there will be someone right outside the door.”