Page 65 of Rafi

The tiles beneath my feet are slick with dew or maybe frost—I can’t tell in the dim moonlight. My steps falter, and I nearly lose my footing, but Igor is there, his hand snapping out to catch me before I go over the edge. His grip is ironclad, his gaze cutting as he pulls me upright.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice devoid of concern, more a reminder of my worth alive.

We continue across the uneven surface, my heart pounding with every precarious step. Below us, the compound sprawls like a dark beast, lit sporadically by bursts of gunfire. Men scramble on the ground, their movements frantic, but none dare raise their weapons. I’m a shield, a hostage wrapped in Igor’s will, and they all know it.

Ahead, on the flat expanse of the roof, a helicopter waits. Its blades are still, a predator poised for flight, its shadow stretching long and ominous under the pale light. The pilot sits ready, the engine thrumming softly, a reminder of our impending escape.

Igor stops near the edge, his fingers digging into my arm as he surveys the scene below. His expression is calm, almost bored, but his eyes flick with calculation. He’s weighing every move, every angle, and I’m just another piece on his board.

I glance down at the men below, their faces blurring into indistinct shapes in the chaos. They’re waiting, desperate for an opportunity, but none comes. No one dares to fire. No one dares to risk hitting me.

Igor leans in close, his breath cold against my ear. “Look at them,” he murmurs, gesturing to the chaos below. “Scurrying like ants. All this for you,kotyonok. You’ve really made your mark.”

I don’t respond. My throat is dry, my words caught somewhere between defiance and fear. I have no doubt this will be the last time my feet hit the grounds of this city. It’s highly doubtful that I will ever see any of these people again, and even more doubtful that I will ever visit the country I’ve made my home for the past seven years. Igor hates leaving Russia – if he has his way, I’ll never step foot out of his mother country again unless it’s in my coffin.

He starts walking again, dragging me toward the helicopter. My shoes scrape against the roof, catching on uneven tiles, but his grip doesn’t falter. With each step, the sound of the engine grows louder, drowning out the chaos below, until it’s the only thing I can hear.

We stop just short of the helicopter, its open door a gaping maw waiting to swallow me whole. Igor doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His hand tightens around my arm, and I know I’m not leaving this roof unless it’s with him.

But something shifts—movement from below, a ripple in the chaos. One of the guards shouts, and Igor’s attention snaps toward the edge of the roof. For the first time, there’s uncertainty in his posture, a hesitation that sends a flicker of hope through my chest.

The blades of the helicopter whir to life, slicing through the night air with an ever-increasing roar. Igor’s grip on my arm is unrelenting as he steers me toward the open door. The chaoson the ground—men shouting, scrambling for position, weapons aimed but never fired—blurs into a haze of sound and movement beneath us.

“Move,” Igor commands, his tone as sharp as the wind whipping around us.

I climb into the helicopter reluctantly, my every muscle tensed for an opportunity that doesn’t come. The interior is sterile and cold, a far cry from the pandemonium outside. Igor climbs in behind me, settling into the seat across from mine. His dark eyes lock onto me, and I feel their weight like a physical thing, oppressive and suffocating, even as Rafi’s voice breaks through the noise and carries on the soft breeze, my name a cry that echoes into the night.

As the helicopter lifts off,the compound below becomes a patchwork of dark shapes and flashing lights. I crane my neck, trying to catch one last glimpse of the others, of the life I’m leaving behind—but Igor snaps his fingers, drawing my attention back to him.

“Eyes on me,kotyonok,” he says, a smirk curling the edge of his lips.

I don’t respond, instead glaring at him in silence. He seems to enjoy it, his gaze narrowing in mock amusement.

After a moment, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is that man to you?” he asks, his voice low, probing.

I know exactly who he’s referring to, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a straight answer. “I’d tell you,” I say, my tone bitter, “if it were any of your business.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and unsettling. “So... feisty,” he murmurs. “Your mother... you are just like her.”

The words land like a blow, but I refuse to let him see the impact. My jaw tightens, and I meet his gaze with steel in my own. “You don’t get to talk about her!” I hiss.

He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle he’s trying to solve.

“You’ve grown to be a beautiful young woman, Tayana. She would have been proud of you.” He’s almost wistful as he says this, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that Igor cares about anyone but himself.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find me. Why? What do you want, Igor?”

For a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic thrum of the helicopter blades. Then, he smiles, a slow, deliberate thing that chills me to my core.

“A family reunion,” he says simply. Before I can press him further, he gestures toward the headphones hanging beside my seat. “Put them on,” he instructs. “We’re about to take off properly.”

The rest of the flight passes in strained silence. Igor watches me with the kind of intensity that makes my skin crawl, but he says nothing else. The landscape below shifts from dense forest to open fields to the faint glow of a private airstrip.

When we land, the helicopter door opens to reveal a sleek black car waiting on the tarmac. Igor gestures for me to exit first, his hand resting lightly on my back as though he’s guiding me, not holding me hostage.

The drive is short but tense, the silence between us thick with unspoken words, until we arrive at a Victorian style mansion sitting on the bank of a stream. It would be idyllic, picture perfect, if it weren’t for the circumstances I’ve found myself in.

“Behave, Tayana. Or the friend I’m going to introduce you to will pay the price for your misbehavior.”

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