Page 17 of His Hold

I pretend I’m one of them, normal, just a woman jogging to clear her head.

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my hoodie, and I pull it out without breaking my stride. It’s a notification from my boss about a new assignment. I’ll read it later. Right now, I need the adrenaline to push away the memories.

Running helps clear my head, like a metronome for my anger. Especially on days like today when memories threaten to pull me under.

Five years. It's been five years since I last saw Irina.

The usual route takes me past the coffee shop where we used to meet every Sunday. I push myself harder, faster, trying to outrun the flashback I know is coming. But it hits anyway, as vivid as if it happened yesterday.

We were supposed to be catching up. A rare sisterly moment in my cramped dorm room in New York. I was a sophomore, my life a blur of classes and parties and internships. Everything exactly the way I’d planned.

Irina had flown in for the weekend, her layover before heading back to our old house in California. Mom had just moved to Illinois to be closer to where she grew up, something about needing comfort, a piece of her childhood to hold onto now that the end was near.

I had barely visited since college started. And when I did, it was always brief. A few days here, a weekend there. But Irina... Irina had been there. Holding things together while I stayed in school.

Maybe that’s why I felt so righteous when I caught her slipping up.

We were eating cheap Chinese takeout, legs crossed on my bed, half-laughing at some joke she’d made about my roommate’s terrible taste in music. Then her phone beeped. A text message.

I wouldn’t have paid attention if she hadn’t flinched when it lit up. But she did. And when she angled the screen away from me, I noticed.

“What was that?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

“Nothing. Work stuff.”

“Since when do you hide work texts?”

She rolled her eyes but kept her phone facedown. “Jesus, Katya. Paranoid much?”

“Just curious.”

She knew I wouldn’t drop it. And she was right. Because when she left to grab coffee from the campus café, I checked her phone.

The message was still open.

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Last night was incredible.”

The number was unsaved. And I knew it wasn’t Anton.

She walked back into the room holding two paper cups with steam curling from the lids. My mouth was already moving before she even set them down.

“How could you do this to Anton?” I demanded. “He loves you. He’s planning to propose. You’re throwing everything away for what? Some affair?”

Irina’s laugh was hollow. “You don’t understand anything about love, little sister. You’ve never been in a real relationship. You don’t even try to let people in.”

“Because I’m not a selfish brat who screws over the people who care about me. Anton’s good for you, and you’re tossing him aside like he’s nothing. For what? A quick fuck with some guy you barely know?”

Her expression hardened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Irina?” I snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

She exhaled sharply, her hands trembling. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Her eyes went cold, lips pressed into a thin line. “You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with, Katya. You never pay attention unless it’s convenient for you.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I’ve been here. Every time you needed me. Every time things fell apart and you wanted someone to blame. Who pulled you out of that rave party last summer when you got so drunk you were almost raped? Who lies for you every time you get caught sneaking out?”

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