Mixing the drinks only takes a few minutes.
Slipping it in the drinks takes a half second—and a flick of my wrist.
Waiting for the drugs to work…now, that does test my patience. Partly because I know Ivan will understand what I’ve done in the seconds before he passes out. Of course he would figure it out when he woke up to find me gone anyway, but somehow it’s those first seconds before that worry me most. It will be a true betrayal, in the way that running away never was.
The vial had been gone from the nightstand, stowed safely in Ivan’s trousers. So I did what I’ve done for years. I traded my body for what I needed. I let him spank me and fuck me. I gave him a good show, and when he was too sated with climax to notice, when he’d let his guard down the way he could only do for me, I stole the little bottle.
I see the moment recognition passes over his face, cutting through the chemical-induced exhaustion. His gaze flits to mine. There’s a slight incline of his head that might be an acknowledgment of what I’ve done. Or it might be goodbye.
Or it might just be the drugs taking effect, dragging him into unconsciousness. His large body slumps to the floor with a sickening thud.
The first thing I do is check his vital signs. Strong. The second thing I do is arrange him so that he’ll be more comfortable when he wakes up—flat on his back, arms at his side, a pillow from the couch under his head.
Sarah Elizabeth is staring at me, mouth open in shock.
Okay, I guess it would be kind of weird to see two grown men suddenly fall asleep. Especially considering what else happened today. “They’re just asleep,” I say gently.
“But…but why? I thought you and him were together.”
Together. That’s one word for what we were. Depraved. Toxic. And beautiful.
“I couldn’t let them keep you against your will,” I tell her honestly. “Not after what you had been through with Leader Allen. Now come on. We need to cover a lot of ground.”
We gather supplies from the hotel room—and from the men themselves. Money from Ivan’s wallet, a knife from Luca’s pocket. Then we’re heading downstairs, hailing a cab. Vanishing into the night. We’re five blocks away before Sarah Elizabeth asks the question she’s been holding in.
“You could stay behind. He would be mad that you let me go… but he wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?”
“Not like you think,” I mutter. But he would hurt me. “The truth is that I needed to go myself, whether you were here or not. I need to… be my own person.”
Not his little one, as much as it hurt to know I’d never hear those softly spoken words again.
By the time Luca and Ivan would regain consciousness in the morning, we are already four hundred miles away. We change clothes and hair colors and accents. Even knowing we’ve made it safely away, I continue looking over my shoulder. There’s both trepidation and hope in those backward glances, but it doesn’t matter.
Ivan doesn’t find me.
We took the one surefire way I know to disappear—those anonymous gray buses.
And Ivan himself told me where to go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Don’t,” I say, taking the basket away. Beth sticks her tongue out at me but lets me take it from her. She knows she isn’t supposed to be lifting heavy things at this point, but she likes to stay active.
“Fine,” she says. “If you insist on being a worrywart, I’ll go turn that last batch into a pie. They’re already going soft.”
“Yes, please.” I love this girl’s baking. Sarah Elizabeth goes by Beth now. She’s a happy, playful young woman who bears little resemblance to the timid girl we spirited away all those months ago. However, one thing that remains from her old life is her love of all things domestic. Especially baking. And I can’t say that I’ve complained.
Meanwhile I’m better suited to hard labor, whether that’s working a pole or picking peaches from trees. Both leave me exhausted and sore, but the peaches have the added bonus of producing pie.
The ground around the cottage is hard-packed dirt, cool against my bare soles. No hand-sewn linen shoes for me. No stilettos either.
Sarah Elizabeth and I made it all the way to the coast, to the little countryside town where a boy was abused and neglected. Where he fought with everyone he met. Of course no one knows our connection to this place. Ivan’s grandmother passed away a long time ago, her only presence an empty house outside of town.
We rented a little cottage six months ago, servant’s lodging for the main house. The landowner never comes here, the local agent told us. I already knew that. This is the one place Ivan will never look for us. The one place he’ll never return.
I’m lost to him, but in another way, I’m found. I learn that I can survive on my own. I learn that I miss the relentless, almost reckless passion of a man. And I learn that as much as I miss it, I don’t need it after all.
We tell people we’re sisters. Picking peaches pays most of the rent. Sarah Elizabeth sells what she bakes to pay for food and other necessities.