Page 84 of Deadly Knight
“Yes”—he rolls his eyes—“I’m well aware. Once you met that girl, all your focus disappeared.”
“Thatgirl is one of the reasons we’re here, Ivan, and until you fully understand that, you can rot in fucking hell.”
I turn to leave the room, finding the nearest stationed guard. “Keep him in there for an hour, then move him to his cell. No food or water for forty-eight hours. I’ll be around.”
There’sa knock on Dimitri’s door. It’ll only be one of two people, but a quick guess has it as Vanessa. Since Dimitri left one week ago, it’s typically Vanessa over Anastasia who comes by to check on me.
I swing the door open to Vanessa, as presumed, with Veles beside her. She rocks back on her heels, looking sheepish for a woman who owns this place.
“Hey. Want to get out of here?” She jerks her head towards the stairs. “As in, the mansion. I have to go into the city for something.”
She’sallowingme out of the house?
I must look a bit too excited, because she quickly holds up her hand. “Only if you promise not to run.”
Shockingly enough, my reassurance isn’t fake. “I won’t. We both know you’d catch me before I made it ten feet.”
“True,” she replies with a shrug before turning away from the door, waving for me to follow.
By the front door, she pets her dog goodbye, then leads me outside and to the side of the mansion. I’m following behindher, my lungs sucking in the freshest air I’ve had all week. Who would have thought what a week inside could to do a person, but fuck, it feels amazing out here. The gravel underfoot, the crunch of grass, the breeze. It’s so much cleaner than Toronto air, which is bogged down with smog, exhaust fumes, and cement, and my lungs appreciate the reprieve after a decade.
At the end of the house, a black car is waiting, a driver holding the door open for us. It’s striking to consider this is how some people live. Even when dating Dimitri, he drove us everywhere and never relied on Bratva employees, so I didn’t get the entire sense of it back then.
She follows my gaze to the driver. “Normally, I’d take my bike, but figured you wouldn’t be comfortable getting on the back of one.”
“I’m guessing you don’t mean a bicycle, so yeah, no, this is better.”
Vanessa thanks her driver before gesturing for me to get in first. Even now, she’s cautious, but I have no reason to run. I’d get nowhere.
Once the car starts driving, she strikes up a conversation, casually mentioning, “Spoke to Dimitri last night. By text, anyway.”
“Yeah?” Excitement is apparent in my tone. The sooner he returns, the sooner the threat is gone, and the sooner I go home.
“He’s mad you’re not locked up in his room night and day. I know what it’s like to be trapped, and it’s not fair.”
“Did he say when he’s coming back?”
She shakes her head. “Sounds like soon, if that’s any consolation.”
It’s not, but I manage a small, forced smile, keeping to her good side.
The remainder of the drive passes quickly, the route old but familiar. As we take the first exit into downtown Moscow, I recallthe bakery that was once on this very corner, wondering if it’s still operating. Mama used to enjoy their bread, so we shopped there often. When the car turns the corner, there is it. Same old-fashioned style but with a brighter, updated sign.
I find myself pressing closer to the window as the car continues heading into the downtown core. Coloured roofs and cobblestone roads draw my focus to the differences between here and Toronto. Toronto is all high-rises and cement. It’s cold and unfeeling and busy, while Moscow is vibrant with life, colours,soul.
I miss it.
It’s a fact long buried due to necessity, something else hidden behind my walls. To survive in Toronto meant focusing on the aspects I enjoy rather than the numerous ones I don’t. It’s too unfamiliar, busy, and chaotic. Noisy with people rushing around, incessant on not missing the bus or train rather than waiting five minutes for the next one. I pretend to enjoy the chaos and high-rises while actually missing Moscow. Regardless of the memories attached to the city, there’s a vibe in this place—familiar, welcoming,home—that Toronto doesn’t have and probably never will. One I’m feeling now from behind a car’s window.
And one that doesn’t have me reliving the past, how I always assumed I would.
“Miss it?” I twist to face Vanessa, taken aback by her question. A shake of my head is my first lie, unwilling to let anyone in on the truth, but she only chuckles. “Liar. It’s okay to. Ever think of returning?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, downplaying the truth.
Vanessa watches me with a slight tilt of her head, suggesting once again she sees right through me. “Why’d you never come back?”
“Would you, if you lived through what I had? Visiting would only draw up the memories.”
