Sweet Collateral

“No.” I shake my head, backing away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Only this room.

“You will be well taken care of.” He says it as though this will reassure me. He stands, and I pull my trembling hands against my stomach.

“I can’t have children!” It may be a death sentence, but I don’t care because I know what comes next.

He smiles indulgently. “Oh, you will, little bird.” He walks to the door and raps over the metal. It opens with a high-pitched squeal, and he beckons someone inside. A man steps forward, his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Sir,” the man says, his absolute undivided attention on Nicholai.

“You are to impregnate her.” He points at me, and my chest tightens until I can barely suck oxygen into my lungs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to calm, to find the numb indifference I used to fall into so easily. My pulse hammers against my eardrums in an erratic rhythm. The deafening bang of the door slamming shut echoes through my mind, and I open my eyes. The soldier is standing in the middle of the room, his expression devoid of anything whatsoever.

Marching over to me, he grabs my ankles and pulls until I’m flat on my back. He tears the tracksuit pants down my legs before unbuckling his belt. It’s methodical and detached. The panic is rising, creeping higher and higher until he presses his body between my legs. This isn’t happening. Not again. I can’t.

I try to fight him off, but it‘s pointless. I’m weak and unprepared for this. In an instant, my walls crumble, and my world turns to rubble in a matter of seconds. I thought I was safe. I’ll never be safe. All my thoughts dives into a flat spin, and I start to freefall, plummeting helplessly towards the ground so fast, I can’t even process the descent. My conscious mind blinks, like a light flashing on and off before it finally checks out completely. I sink into the cold dark waters at the depths of my very self, allowing them to drown out everything. Instead of fighting it, I welcome the darkness with open arms, and it falls over me like a warm blanket, swaddling me in its embrace. I barely register the rigid, awkward movements of his body.

It’s over almost as quickly as it started. He simply gets up and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The sliding of the lock signals that I’m once again alone in my imprisonment. Awareness gradually creeps back in, and I wish it wouldn’t. Dragging myself off the bed, I make it to the toilet in the corner of the room before throwing up the entire contents of my stomach.

I thought I’d escaped this life, but now I’m right back here, forced to endure it once more. And for what? To carry a child I’m incapable of conceiving? It was the first thing The Master did: sterilize me. Nicholai wants a child, which means I will have to endure this over and over again until he realizes it’s pointless.

I slide to the ground, my bare skin hitting the concrete floor. The thought of Rafael, the one that usually brings me suck comfort, now has tears streaking down my face. What would he think of me now? This feels like a betrayal to him, and I hate that I’m not strong enough to stop it.

I hate myself.

40

Rafael

It’s been over two months since Anna was taken, and with each day that passes, I get more desperate, more despondent, and more violent. The cartel is corrupt and dangerous, but my world has never been as dark as it has the last two months. Una’s plan failed, and I’ve been trying to enact a plan B ever since. We’ve made every effort to contact Nicholai Ivanov, only to come up with nothing. The simple fact is, if he wanted to deal with me, he would. He’d rather keep Anna.

I tighten my hand around the steering wheel, the ever-present tension riding me even harder than usual tonight. “It’s here,” Samuel says quietly, breaking the silence in the car. He hands me the night vision binoculars, and the radio. “Move in, get ready,” I say into it.

Looking through the binoculars, I see the grainy image of a cargo plane hovering only meters above the runway before the wheels bump over the ground. It barrels along the tarmac before finally slowing and coming to a halt.

The ramp at the back lowers, and several vehicles come down the runway, heading towards it. I pick up the radio again. “Grenade launchers. Snipers.”

It all happens before my eyes like a perfectly executed dance. Several grenades fire across the distance from the tree line to the approaching cars. All three vehicles explode into a huge fireball, and I no longer need night vision to see because the entire airfield is lit up. Men rush from the back of the plane only to fall like puppets with their strings snapped under the bullets of my snipers. The plane engines start up again, and I sigh. There’s always one. I watch as a lone figure darts across the runway to one of the wheels, before retreating. The plane moves forward several feet before the wheel explodes and the wings tilt at a precarious angle, the left wing colliding with the tarmac. It’s nothing but anarchy, death, and destruction, and I revel in it right now. The longer she’s gone, the less of my humanity I feel. I crave this kind of madness. I want everyone and anyone associated with the Russians eviscerated—for them to bleed and burn just as surely as I am. I’ve never been so unhinged, and I can’t find the will to give a fuck.