: Chapter 27

I packed a very small bag.

One shirt. A knife. My skincare products, the crystal he bought me. No matter how much the need to leave feels urgent, I can’t seem to rush the packing because I don’t want to go.

None of this belongs to me. Not the house, not the man, not even the silence. I don’t belong here. I can’t stay, knowing that the only thing he needs to make his world right is the one thing I can’t give him.

My hands tremble as I pack the very few things I own and zip the bag halfway. The book of poems lies on top. My throat gets tight.

And all I loved—I loved alone.

My stupid tears don’t ask permission; they just come of their own accord.

I go downstairs and walk to the pantry. And for some reason, I can’t do it. I can’t think of what I need, what I have to say, where I could go.

We’re not married. I’m not his wife.

All the other women of the Bratva, they’re married. And that means something to these men.

I’m just… me.

I can’t bear him a child. I have nothing to bring to the table.

And he says he owns me.

But what does that mean in the greater scheme of things?

Nothing.

Nothing.

The thought of leaving him feels like I’m breaking my own heart. I’ve never felt understood like I do with him. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want him. My life went on before him, but now… for the first time ever, I had begun to hope.

And hope is a beautiful thing.

But when I go downstairs, I’m not alone.

The kitchen lights are dim. I can still smell the lingering scent of the citrus cleaner I used to wipe down the bathroom. The back window is cracked open, and a draft makes the kitchen curtain flutter.

I shiver, then freeze. My heart kicks into my throat.

I can feel the presence of someone else. It can’t be someone who shouldn’t be here; the doors are locked, and security’s here. I didn’t hear anyone breaking in.

‘M-Matvei?’ I call out, but it’s impossible. He can’t be home yet unless he teleported. I just spoke with him on the phone—he said he was still an hour away.

There’s no way⁠—

Oh, shit.

No.

Not this again.

I slowly turn.

“Irma?”

Irma stands near the pantry, arms crossed, eyes gleaming like she’s been waiting for this. She wears one of her signature too-tight sweaters and blinding lipstick.

I smile sweetly. ‘Did you run out of grocery money again? Looking for a free meal? Sorry to tell you that the only thing Matvei and I cooked last night was meth, and there’s none left.’

She glares.

“Ha-ha. Just kidding. It was weed.”

His mother narrows her eyes at me.

‘Why do you hate me?’ she asks.

My need to run is quickly forgotten. I’m not leaving her in this house unsupervised.

‘I never did anything to you,’ his mother says, obviously still trying to keep my attention on her. And then she keeps talking—blah, blah, blah—but I tune her out.

And then I realize something that sends a chill down my spine.

His parents don’t have keys to this house anymore.

Matvei changed the locks.

‘How did you get in here?’

‘I have a key,’ his mother says.

‘No, you don’t. He changed those locks.’

‘Why?’ his mother snaps. ‘I’ve had a key to his house since he bought it… until you came on the scene.’ Her voice rises in pitch, in volume.

‘Because he didn’t want you walking in while he was fucking me in the living room. Does that make you feel better?’

‘Honey, you’re just someone he’s wasting his time on.”

“It’s kinda gross how jealous you are.”

Her voice is so smug, so sure. ‘He doesn’t want you. Don’t you think if he wanted you, he would’ve married you, like the rest of them? Done this the right way instead of bringing you back here like you were some kind of cheap whore?’

It stings.

I tell myself not to listen, not to pay attention.

I’m stronger than this.

But I already feel so low, so useless.

I can’t be anything for him.

‘You should run,’ she says coldly, cruelly. ‘You should get out of here while you still can.’

“You hate me because he picked me over you,” I say, my voice low.

“He didn’t pick you,” she snarls. “You’re just the body he’s fucking while he waits for someone better.”

My heart lurches, but I push through. She’s trying to hurt me, trying to cause me pain.

‘You hate him for what he did to your son, but don’t you know how he’s gone out of his way to be loyal to you? Even after everything you’ve done to him?’

I hate them.

I hate them so much.

‘You stupid little whore,’ his mother hisses, real hatred gleaming in her eyes. ‘All of them… they stole it. It should’ve been ours.’

‘What are you talking about? Stole what?” Is she delusional?

I shake my head.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I snap.

‘Of course you don’t,’ she sneers. ‘You’re just a stupid little bitch who thinks she knows better.’

The way she says it—so dismissive, so cold—something clicks in my mind.

I stare. No.

‘You put him up to it,’ I whisper.

It wasn’t just his brother going behind his back.

She let her own son bear the brunt of it.

And she let her other son pull the trigger.

Fury rises in my chest.

His mother shakes her head, her eyes cold and calculating.

‘Matvei loved those cousins of his way more than his own brother. Just the way he treated him after he betrayed them was enough to show it. We all knew it.’

I’m struck by how horrible she is.

She was complicit in all of it.

It’s because of her.

‘Run, you stupid little bitch. I’m glad you’re not having his baby. We don’t need your kind around here. Pack your bag and fucking run. He’ll find somebody else. Somebody better. Somebody who can have his babies.’

I stare at her.

‘What do you think you know about me?’

“I know everything. I was there the day Gleb supposedly betrayed everybody. I know exactly why he sent them after Polina instead of you. I knew the Irish were going to take you in. You young kids think you know everything, but some of us have been here for decades, way longer, before you were born, and we have connections.” She points a long, pointy nail at me. “Some of us have alliances in places you haven’t even thought of. So take your bag, and I’m going to make this very easy for you. It was too much for you. You needed to run. You had nowhere to go, but this was no place for you. So you left. You’re going to write him a note and make sure he never finds you again.’

I shake my head. “No.”

‘Yes,’ she says, her voice like steel. ‘I want you out of my son’s life. You don’t deserve a penny of his money or a second in this town. You’re nobody. You’re nothing.’

Every word falls like a sledgehammer. And in the weight of realizing I can’t give him the one thing he needs, I feel like nothing. Like nobody. My throat tightens.

But I will not be bullied by the woman behind this, especially not before I tell him everything.

She raises her hand as if to slap me when someone grabs me from behind and pulls me back.

I scream.

“Hey. It’s me.”

I look over my shoulder to see Yana holding a gun. She speaks into her phone. ‘Please tell him we’ve detained Irma.’

I can leave now before there’s no turning back. Before he’s married to me. Before he actually cares. This is it. This is the time.

I pick up my bag, my hand shaking. It’s time for me to do what I do best—become invisible. Disappear. Just like the little ghost he says I am.

‘I don’t think so.’

Vadka stands in the doorway, tall and strong, the square cut of his jaw firm, glaring at Irma.

‘When Rafail finds out what you’re complicit in…’ he begins, and Irma’s eyes go wide.

‘I don’t take orders from him.’

I move to the side. They won’t see me, maybe they’ll be distracted.

‘No,’ Yana says smoothly. ‘We’re well aware. But your husband does, doesn’t he? I was under the impression that my brother pays your credit card bills, your rent, and the stipend you both receive since Gleb was killed. No?’

‘I’m not giving any of that up. It’s my right!’

Keep them talking. Keep them talking.

I could take my bag and slip out the back door. I don’t want any of them to see me.

Yana looks at me. ‘The decision to stay or go is up to you.’ Her voice drops, softer, almost pleading. ‘Please don’t go.’

She turns back to Irma.

‘And I’m going to tell him what you did,” Yana says.

‘Bitch,’ she snaps.

Yana laughs, a pretty, tinkling little sound, and Vadka growls. ‘For fuck’s sake, don’t make me shoot a woman, Yana.’

I stand at the door.

If I don’t go now, I never will. One look at him—one word—and I’ll fold. He’ll ask me to stay. And then I’ll be trapped in this house forever.

It’s not just that I won’t get another shot at this. It’s that if I see Matvei, if I take one look into his eyes, I won’t be able to walk away.

I have to go.

I stare at my bag. I stare at the exit. Vadka and Yana hold my space, letting me go, knowing that Matvei will lose his mind. When he gets here, he’s going to be distracted. I could⁠—

Tires squeal outside, and Irma’s eyes go wide.

Oh no. It’s too late. Rodion and Matvei are back.

It’s too late.

Matvei and Rodion are running toward us.

The moment his eyes land on me, I feel it… like gravity just doubled. His gaze drops to the bag. The energy between us tightens like a wire about to snap. His jaw clenches. His shoulders square. We both know exactly what this is.

There’s a shriek behind us.

His mother is running.

“Matvei! They’re trying to kill me!” He freezes, shocked.

A gun goes off, and Irma falls to the ground.

He doesn’t look at her. He looks at me.

Not my face—my hands.

The bag.

His breath catches.

“Anissa.”

Just my name.

Matvei comes straight to me. ‘Are you okay? Did she hurt you?’

A second vehicle screeches to a stop.

His father steps out.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ his father screams, taking in the sight of his wife on the ground, covered in blood. ‘Who shot her?’

Yana rolls her eyes. ‘I clipped her shoulder. It’s a superficial wound. You’ll be able to wipe it with a piece of gauze.’ But then her voice lowers, ice-cold, her ruthless gaze settling on him like a blade. ‘But when you find out the truth of what happened, you’re going to wish I did more than that.’