Chapter 76

Anna

Almost as if the universe has been listening to me, I receive a text from Luka stating that he won't be home for the rest of the night on business.

Three weeks ago, I would've been concerned about where exactly he was going or whether he was in danger. Now, I'm not worried in the least. Having him out carrying out some kind of mission gives me more time.

I feel guilty for it, but guilt is something that I've learned to live with. I just hope I don't end up regretting this.

Rachel has already packed a backpack full of clothes, just as she did at every foster home we'd ever lived in. I hate how constant this aspect of her life is. It's the only thing in her life that never seems to change.

I usher her toward the lobby, grabbing my own packed bag from the hallway and slinging it over my shoulder as we approach the doorway. My heart slams in my chest, and I wonder if Rachel is as nervous as I am. She can't be. She doesn't even know I'm pregnant.

As we reach the door, an unfamiliar associate of Luka's steps in front of us, blocking our path. He's wearing a suit and an earpiece, and I have to assume he's one of the guards.

"Where you guys going?" he asks aggressively.

I stiffen. "Oh, um, Rachel has an after-school activity she signed up for that we forgot about," I lie. Many years with almost no adult supervision have made me into an excellent liar, and it's finally coming in handy.

The man doesn't seem convinced at first, and I can feel my heart struggling not to skip beats as I wait what feels like hours for a response from him.

"So how are you going to get there?" he asks, his expression completely unreadable, causing me to break out in a thin sheen of sweat.

"We were about to catch a cab," I say, which is the truth. That much I don't have to worry about selling.

"Why don't you just take one of Luka's other cars?" he asks, almost more shocked that I hadn't thought of that instead of by how strangely I'm acting. Stealing one of Luka's cars would make me even more nervous, but it might get us further than taking a cab.

"Oh! Shit, right, I just haven't left the house in so long. Using cabs is still a habit, you know, from before," I ramble.

He seems completely disinterested at this point, prompting him to turn towards the series of key rings hanging on the wall, selecting one at random and tossing it to me. "Here, just take this one. He never drives it, if that's what you're worried about," he says with a disturbingly flat tone.

"Okay, thanks!" I blurt, practically shoving Rachel out the door in front of us and trying not to sprint down the driveway to the garage.

We find the car among Luka's obscene collection of luxury sports cars, and my heart drops into my stomach as the garage door refuses to open the first three times I attempt to open it. "Goddamn it!" I shout as I practically beg god to let me leave.

On the fourth try, the door finally shudders open, and I peel out of the driveway, leaving tire marks on the pavement as they squeal. Even though I've always wanted to do that, I never thought it would be under such dire circumstances.

"Okay, you told me you were going to tell me what's going on. Now you have to tell me," Rachel says as we speed down the road.

I freeze, recognizing that I've been so stressed about leaving that I haven't thought of a proper way to tell Rachel why we were leaving to begin with. I know I don't want to tell her about the baby, at least not right away. Everything is too familiar right now, too close together. I don't need her knowing about my relationship with Luka if she doesn't have to.

"The brother of the man who kidnapped you has been after us, and Luka's, uh, organization just got fucked badly by that same guy, so we're in a lot of danger if we stay anywhere near Luka. He's a dangerous person who draws dangerous people to him, and I need to keep you safe regardless of how much money he was blowing on us," I explain.

"That didn't seem to matter before," she says softly. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

I scoff. "This isn't about romance, Rachel. This is about our safety," I reply, ironically tearing across the road without paying any attention to traffic.

"It still sucks," she grumbles. "Can we at least stop at the old house. I left a bunch of stuff there."

I nod. "Yeah, I think I left some money there from when I was bartending."

Ten minutes later, the car is idling in front of our old house. Looking at it now makes me feel sick. I never realized how drab it was until I experienced something far nicer.

"Stay here. I'll be right out," I say to Rachel as I slide out of my plush leather seat.

I know there's a more-than fifty percent chance that my landlord had all of our shit cleaned out and boarded up, but I'm pleasantly surprised when I reach the front door to see that not only has she not cleaned out the place, she hasn't changed the locks either.

Maybe they never even realized we left.

I sprint up the stairs to my old bedroom, certain that the cash will still be where I left it and feeling a sense of hope bubbling inside of me. I hop up onto my old bed, trying to contain the nervous shaking in my limbs as I steady myself along the wall. I feel for the loose tile and remove it, reaching up and clutching the stack of cash I'd been saving up there.

This isn't a lot, but it will be enough until we get to Florida.

I climb down from the bed and pause to glance around the room at the life I left behind for Luka. All my old, cheap clothes are still strewn about the room. My dresser is still a mess of makeup, body spray, jewelry, and assorted bills and receipts I'd collected and never thrown away.

It's strange to see how much has changed since I was last here, and I almost feel a sense of deep shame for it. Since becoming so used to the luxury of Luka's lifestyle, it's nearly uncomfortable for me to be in a place like this. It feels dirty, and it radiates desperation and poverty.

For the last few months, I've been living in a place where the bathroom floors are heated, and there's more food and clean laundry than I know what to do with. How did I ever manage to survive this? I fear that I've lost that ability altogether.

On my way out of my old bedroom, I pass by Rachel's, and a similar feeling of guilt and sadness comes over me as I see the state of her former living conditions. Knowing that she's been able to taste what a good life is like, only to have it torn from her by me is almost too much for me to absorb.

She did the best she could to make this place her own, hanging her artwork and some string lights up on the walls, but nothing can mitigate the impact that drafty windows, broken shower taps, and roaches can have on someone.

I know that I need to get out of this place before I end up too far into my own head about it. I collect some of Rachel's other favorite things that were left behind, like the drawing she won a prize for in ninth grade, and I head out the door.

I know something is wrong even before I reach the car. Everything is too still, too quiet.

Rachel is gone.

My blood freezes in its tracks as I scan the vicinity of the car, whipping my head from one direction to the next as I lose hope completely. I wasn't gone that long, but she's a smart girl, and she knows this neighborhood well.

I'm nearly delirious with panic when I suddenly receive a phone call from an unknown number. I consider not answering it, but something deep inside me warns that if I don't pick up this call, I could regret it for the rest of my life.

I answer the call, and before I'm able to say anything, an unfamiliar male voice on the other line cuts through the silence. "You got pretty careless there. You might want to reconsider your exit strategy if it involves leaving your sister unsupervised in a bad neighborhood," he mocks. "You'd better get down to Blue Silk if you want to say goodbye."

Before I can reply at all, he ends the call, and I'm paralyzed by my fear. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that I worry that I'll have a stroke or a heart attack or some other vascular-related catastrophe at the worst possible time.

I crumble to the ground, my jeans soaked by the dirty snow surrounding my car. Blue Silk is the name of a strip club on the outskirts of the city near the bay. I've only ever heard of women getting trafficked or kidnapped from that place.

Why is my sister there?

It must be Dmitri. He's finally come for revenge.

The drive to the club is even more terrifying than the drive to the trap house where Rachel was held hostage when this all started. At least then, I didn't even know the extent of danger that could exist in my little sister's world. There was still some plausible deniability about what she could have been up to.

Now, I know exactly what could happen. Either she's killed in front of me before I get there, or she's shipped off to Russia, sold into human trafficking to work off the money that she owed to Alexei for her drug use. And I doubt it would end there.

It takes everything in me not to vomit into the passenger's seat as I speed through the side streets, scanning the side of the road for police so that I can avoid getting pulled over. If I cried to them, they'd break open Luka's entire operation, and I'd be the one to blame. That could put Rachel and me in far more danger than we're in right now.

When I reach the club, my stomach feels as if it's full of hot lead as I fight the urge to vomit again. Having to rescue my sister when I wasn't pregnant was already taxing enough. I don't know how the baby will survive all this stress.

As soon as I open the door, two large men grab me, wrestling me to the ground and tying my hands behind my back. I struggle as much as I can, screaming and thrashing against them, but the shock of being attacked right away has thrown me off balance. I can't get loose.

Two black shoes appear in front of me, and I follow them up to a tall man in a black suit. "Damn, you two really do look alike. I wonder how much I could get for you both," he says, grinning down at me like a demented jack- o-lantern.

While Alexei's face haunts my nightmares from the evening he was killed, Dmitri's features hardly resemble his brother's at all. He's not nearly as muscular; much more gaunt in the face, which lends him the features of a stereotypical comic book villain.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm pregnant," I plead, resorting to the only defense I have left – pity.

I hear a gasp from behind me.

I turn my head to see Rachel tied up in a similar manner to me and stifling her sobs as they come rolling over her. I can tell that she's confused and hurt that I hadn't told her, and I'm shocked that she can even process those feelings of betrayal as she faces such a terrifying situation.

Dmitri laughs maniacally. "Holy shit! Luka's having a kid? With you? That just makes this a hell of a lot easier for me. I wonder how much he'd pay to see his baby mama alive again," Dmitri replies.

Another flash of cold panic hits my face as I consider the possibility of Luka discovering my pregnancy like this. I should've never left him.

God, what have I done?