Page 75 of Rafi

Because no matter what comes next, I’m all in.

And together, if there’s two of us, we might just have a chance.

The airinside the plane feels wrong the moment we step on board—too still, too quiet, like the silence that hangs thick and heavy before a thunderstorm. My senses prickle with unease as I glance around. Plush leather seats, polished wood finishes, and dim lighting give the jet an air of opulence that should feel comforting but doesn’t.

Tayana lingers in front of me, her breath shallow and quick, her hands gripping her sides so tightly that her knuckles whiten. Igor follows close behind us, his presence looming like a dark shadow.

“Go on,” Igor commands, his voice low and clipped as he gestures toward the front of the cabin.

I exchange a glance with Tayana, whose eyes dart to the back of the plane, and for a moment, I swear I see something flicker in her expression—a strange mix of fear and resolve. But she quickly masks it, giving me a faint, reassuring nod before stepping forward.

As we move deeper into the cabin, the walls seem to close in, the narrow aisle forcing us into a single file. My heart pounds, my instincts screaming that something is off. The faint hum of the engines fills the air, but beneath it, I can hear the faint creak of metal—movement, deliberate and precise.

It happens all at once.

The door to the rear cabin slides open with a sharp hiss, and a dozen armed men pour out like a flood. The cockpit opens too, and more men step out. The metallic clicks of their guns cocking reverberate through the space, freezing us in our tracks. We’re surrounded front and back, and there’s no mistaking who’s doing the surrounding. There’s no mistaking who’s in control here.

“Stay still,” one of the men barks, his voice cold and commanding.

Tayana gasps, her hands flying up in surrender. I do the same, my pulse hammering so loudly I can barely think. Igor, however, doesn’t flinch. He straightens, his eyes narrowing as he assesses the men surrounding us.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sing songs, and I follow his eyes as they scale the length of the plane, before he rolls them skyward, as though bored.

And then, from behind the line of armed men, a figure emerges.

My breath catches in my throat as he steps forward, his movements deliberate, almost regal. He’s an older man, with lines etched into his skin, gray at his temples.

Tayana pushes past me, taking a step toward the man, before she falters and stops.

“Papa,” she whispers, my voice barely audible.

Igor’s expression darkens, his composure slipping for the first time.

“Anton,” Igor says, his voice laced with disdain. “You’ve been busy.”

Tayana’s father—Anton—stops a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over me and Tayana before settling on Igor. His expression is a mix of relief and cold fury, a dangerous combination that makes my stomach twist. I don’t know which is the more dangerous of these two formidable men.

“You should have known I wouldn’t let you take her,” Anton says, his voice calm but deadly. “Did you really think you could slip her out of the country without me noticing?”

Igor smirks, though the tension in his jaw betrays him. “You’ve been playing house for too long, Anton. You’ve gone soft. It’s why you lost everything. Why your own brother had to step in and clean up your mess.”

Anton’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into furious fists at his sides. I’m getting whiplash trying to follow their conversation. “You don’t get to do that, Igor. You don’t get to push the blame and filth off yourself and onto me.”

I feel the air leave Tayana’s lungs with her gasp as she glances between the two men, her mind racing as she tries to keep up.

“You always were a sanctimonious bastard,” Igor spits. “You pretended to be above it all, but you were just as deep in the dirt as the rest of us. The only difference is I knew how to rise above it.”

Anton takes a step forward, his presence commanding. The armed men tighten their formation, their guns trained on Igor, but Anton waves them off.

“You’re right,” Anton says, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous. “I made mistakes. I wasn’t there when my family needed me most. But I’m here now, and I’m taking her back.”

“What makes you think she wantsyouback?” Igor says, taunting him. “You cast her aside. You let her live away from us. You don’t deserve her!” he roars, and the cabin of the plane fills with his ferocity, as though it is being filled from the inside out with fire.

Anton turns his gaze toward his daughter. His eyes soften, and for a moment, the hard edges of his expression melt away.

“My daughter will always be my daughter. One day she will understand why I did what I did.”

“But not today,” Igor says. “Today she finally has a choice. Today, she will decide who she wants to run to.”

---