Page 73 of Rafi

I turn to him, my fury blazing, but his calm, unreadable expression sends a shiver down my spine.

No, I think.I wasn’t made for this world. But I’ll survive it—and I’ll make sure Maxine does too.

The limousine circles the tarmac,finally coming to a stop near the waiting jet. The aircraft stands silent and imposing, its stairs lowered as if it has nothing better to do than wait for Igor’s arrival. The stillness of the airstrip feels wrong—unnatural. The distant hum of engines, the occasional echo of activity, the ambient noise one would expect from even a private airfield are all absent.

It is too quiet.

My heart drums against my ribs, each beat pounding a warning that echoes in my ears. Beside me, Maxine shifts nervously, her hands twitching in her lap. I catch her wide-eyed glance toward the jet, her fear unmistakable. She feels it too—that electric charge in the air, the kind that heralds a storm.

The driver steps out first, opening Igor’s door before retrieving a single hardcase bag from the trunk. I frown. Neither Maxine nor I packed anything. The driver hands the bag to Igor, who inspects it briefly before passing it off to a pilot approaching us in a small tug vehicle.

The pilot is a wiry man with a sun-weathered face and an air of detached professionalism. He hops off the tug, tips his cap toward Igor, and takes the bag with an effortless efficiency that makes my stomach twist.

“It’s all there,” Igor says, his voice calm but laced with tension. His gaze darts around the empty airfield, scanning for threats that might not even exist.

“A real shame we couldn’t do crypto again,” the pilot replies as he flips open the locks on the bag.

Stacks of hundred-dollar bills gleam under the harsh floodlights. My stomach sinks further as I realize how much this exchange means to Igor. This isn’t just a routine transaction; this was a calculated move, and this plane will be taking off today. There are no two ways about it.

The pilot snaps the bag shut, his expression unreadable. His poker face is flawless, but it isn’t the calm that strikes me—it is the deliberate neutrality. The kind of look someone wears when they’re hiding something.

That’s when I feel it: a prickle at the base of my spine, an icy wave rushing up from my toes. My entire body screams a warning that has no words, no logic, just raw instinct. Something is about to happen.

“Why so quiet?” Igor asks, suspicion clouding his voice as he surveys the stillness.

The pilot doesn’t flinch. “It’s a public holiday,” he says smoothly. “Not many people out and about.”

I freeze. A public holiday? No, there isn’t one. Igor couldn’t know that—he hasn’t spent enough time here to know the rhythm of this place, the details that come naturally to someone like me. But I know, and so does Maxine. Her eyes lock with mine, wide with realization.

“It’s quiet, yes,” Igor mutters, his tone softening. The pilot’s answer has appeased him, at least for the moment. “Wheels up?” he asks, shifting his focus back to the transaction.

“Thirty minutes,” the pilot says, slinging the bag onto the tug with ease. “I’ll just take care of this and meet you on the plane.”

Igor gives him a long, assessing look, as if weighing the truth of his words. The pilot stares back, calm and composed, before driving away with the bag.

“Let’s go,” Igor orders, leading us toward the waiting jet.

Every fiber of my being screams at me to act, to do something, to say something that might stall him. My mind races as I follow Maxine toward the plane, Igor trailing beside me like a shadow.

“Don’t do this,” I say, grabbing Igor’s sleeve. My voice is low but forceful, desperate.

He stops mid-step, turning to look at me with a mixture of irritation and amusement. “And what would you have me do,Kotyonok? Stay here and wait for someone to take you from me? You belong in Russia. With your family.”

“This isn’t right,” I press, my voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to leave.”

Igor smirks, his grip on my arm tightening just enough to make me wince. “You’re stalling,” he says softly, leaning closer until his face is inches from mine. “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Just let us go.”

Igor straightens, his smirk fading into a cold, calculated expression. “You’re wasting your breath,Kotyonok. Get on the plane. It’s time to go.”

I don’t move. Maxine stands frozen at the bottom of the stairs, her hands trembling as she clutches the railing. Her gaze flicks between me and the jet, her fear palpable.

“Tayana,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Something’s wrong.”

“I know,” I murmur, my heart pounding.

Igor turns sharply. “Now,” he barks, his voice like a whip cracking through the silence.

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