Chapter 29 Breaking the Order

Chapter 29 Breaking the Order
Nadja Ironside
As soon as I end the call with Ella, with the flight details written down on a piece of paper that trembles in my hand, I dial Joana’s number. Only then do I realize it is almost midnight.
"Hello?" Her voice is rough, but she is alert.
"Joana, it’s Nadja. I’m sorry to wake you. But it’s an emergency."
"Talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?"
I explain in hurried words. I tell her about Ella. About her running away. The violence she must have suffered. And, above all, about her arrival in a few hours.
"I need to pick her up at the airport. And I need a safe place to take her afterward. Somewhere she can rest, cry, and feel protected. Away from prying eyes. Do you know a place?"
On the other end of the line, I hear her take a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice has lost all sleepiness; it is focused and determined.
"I do. Leave it with me. Tomorrow, you let me know when the guards on duty are more distracted, during a shift change or something like that. I’ll come by with a car. We’ll make it happen. The place is discreet and perfect for this. Everything will be fine, Nadja."
The gratitude I feel for her in that moment is a rushing river that threatens to spill from my eyes.
"Thank you, Joana. Thank you so much!"
"None of that. That’s what friends are for. Now try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is rescue day."
The next day arrives with the gray light of dawn. Every minute is agony. I watch the guards through the window; their movements are routine. At ten, I notice the bustle of the shift change.
It is the opening.
I send Joana a short message.
Nadja: They’re switching in a few minutes.
Joana: I’ll be driving past your gate in ten minutes.
Minutes later, a discreet silver sedan passes in front of the gates at a slow speed. It is her.
Dressed in simple clothes, with a hat covering my hair, I slip out through the back door of the kitchen. I look at Lúcia, who has a knowing expression, and put a finger to my lips as a sign for silence. Before I leave completely, I see her make a face as if I am putting her in danger. Something that truly will not happen; as soon as Dragon returns, I will talk to him about what happened.
My heart is racing, as if it is going to escape through my throat on its next beat. Every step through the garden makes me expect a shout or an order to stop. But nothing happens. With a little courage, I manage to leave the protected perimeter of the house and reach the car. I open the passenger door and slip inside.
Joana is at the wheel, wearing sunglasses, but her smile is reassuring.
"All good?"
"So far," I reply, breathless.
"Let’s go. From what you told me last night, I saw her flight lands in forty minutes."
At the airport, the waiting is tense. We stay in the car, watching the arrivals door. When Ella finally emerges, it is a knife to the heart. She, who has always been so elegant, so composed, is in wrinkled clothes, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses; I can see they are swollen and empty. She carries only a small suitcase. Her walk, once so graceful, is unsteady and cautious. When she recognizes me, she runs toward us. I let out a breath I had been holding and hug her tenderly. I understand very well what she must have gone through, and the pain she is feeling.
Joana places a hand on her shoulder and helps me guide her to the car.
I sit with her in the back seat. The practiced smile on my lips freezes when my eyes realize it was not only exhaustion on her face; there were bruises that makeup could not completely hide. I see the clear flinch in Joana’s expression and the instant transformation of sympathy into a deep, silent fury.
"Ella, sweetheart," Joana says, her voice soft as velvet, but with a steel blade beneath it. "Welcome to Montana. Here, with us, you are safe."
Ella only nods, a single movement of her head, and collapses into silent tears in the back seat. I slip my arm behind her shoulders and pull her into an embrace, one of those I never received after I was hurt in so many ways by her brother.
And, as expected, she clings to me like a castaway.
"We need to take her somewhere," I whisper to Joana.
"We’re already on our way," she answers, setting the vehicle in motion. "Somewhere no one will bother you for the next few days."
We drive in silence, the only sound the hiccuping and muffled crying of Ella. Joana, in turn, seems to be processing something, her fingers tapping the steering wheel in a thoughtful rhythm. When we stop at a light, far from the house and the airport, she turns to us.
Her face has lost its furious expression; now there is a conspiratorial, dangerous, excited gleam in her eyes.
"Girls, I changed my plan."
I look at her, confused.
"The spa I was going to take you to is great, but there are too many people from our society there. Too many prying eyes. I’m taking you somewhere else. More exclusive and much more private. And…" she adds, a smile stretching her lips, "if our overprotective husbands get a little irritated, let them. Sometimes they need to learn they don’t control everything."
I smile when I realize she is staging a small rebellion. But I believe it will be meaningful. And coming from her, the boss’s wife, it sounds like a powerful declaration of independence.
Ella, in the back seat, does not seem to process what Joana is doing. I, on the other hand, feel a pang of fear as I remember Dragon was explicit about me not leaving the house, but I feel something bigger, something like empowerment, running through me.
I am doing this for Ella. And Joana, it seems, is with me.
We stop on a tree-lined street, in front of a discreet dark-wood gate. Joana types in a code. The gate opens silently, revealing a stone path leading to a bungalow-style house; it is low, with large windows and an aura of absolute peace. There are no signs and no placards. Only a serene elegance.
"This is Nerfertári’s Spa," Joana announces, parking. "The owner is… a friend. And discretion is her main product."
We step out of the vehicle, feeling that the air here seems purer, calmer. The bungalow door opens before we can knock, and a woman emerges. She is stunning. She must be around forty; tall and slender, with perfect ebony skin and almond-shaped eyes that seem to see everything at once. Her hair is shaved on the sides, with a very high crest of defined black curls. She wears an embroidered silk kimono. I have rarely seen a smile so beautiful, and such natural pride, as hers. She is a woman who moves through the world like a queen.
Her eyes land on Joana first, and a genuine smile lights up her face.
"Mrs. Reed. What a pleasure…"
"Nerfertári, my dear. Sorry for the last-minute intrusion."
Then the woman’s eyes meet Ella’s. Something in them softens, an instant, professional compassion. She approaches and, without ceremony, wraps Ella in a firm but gentle hug.
It is not Joana’s effusive embrace; it is a hug that says, “I know,” and “you are safe now.”
"Welcome, dear…" she whispers in Ella’s ear.
When she releases my friend, her eyes turn to me, inquisitive but courteous.
"And this other beauty you brought? Who is your companion?"
Joana introduces me, and I feel the weight of the introduction.
"This is Nadja. Nadja Ironside. Dragon’s wife."
I watch, as if in slow motion, the change that crosses Nerfertári’s impeccable face. The smile does not disappear, but it freezes at the edges. It is slight and almost imperceptible, but the dimming takes over her expression. It is a blink of recognition; perhaps she feels apprehension at my new surname. Still, she remains professional.
I watch as she steps away from Ella and walks to where I am, and she hugs me too. The contact is gentle, but I feel tension in her arms.
"Welcome to Nerfertári’s Spa, Nadja. It’s an honor."
"Thank you," I murmur, feeling a little intimidated by her beauty and by the subtle reaction to my husband’s name.
She guides us inside. The atmosphere is sublime. Low light, subtle scents of jasmine and sandalwood, with ambient music of string instruments. It is practically a sanctuary.
"Girls, forgive me," Nerfertári says, her hands clasped in front of her. "But I need to ask, for my safety and the safety of my entire establishment: do your husbands know where you are? Are they okay with it?"
Her eyes move from Joana to me. I wish I could say yes, but before I can say anything, Nerfertári speaks again.
"I know Ella is hiding in some way, but you two managed to calm the beasts that are Marcus and Dragon…" she pauses meaningfully, and a chill runs down my spine. "I have a faint idea of what they might do if they knew their wives are here without their direct orders. I like to keep my head on my neck, ladies, and I know my husband likes mine to stay where it is, too."
I give a somewhat embarrassed smile, and Joana answers as we walk deeper into the bungalow.
"It’s fine, Nerfertári. Nadja is under my responsibility today. And since I’m Marcus’s wife, he’s aware of my… situation. He wouldn’t object to this."
Nerfertári looks at Joana and I see her give a slight confirming nod. The woman sighs, an elegant, resigned sound.
"All right, ma’am. I’ll pretend I believe what you just said. For today. Now, what would you like? The full works?"
"Yes," Joana decrees. "Hair, skin, nails, massage. The total liberation package. We’re staying here for two days. We want everything we’re entitled to."