Chapter 49 The Road
The gravel crunched beneath her shoes long after the house had disappeared behind her.
Anya walked without direction, destination and plan, putting distance between herself and the life she'd just walked away from. The night air was cold, sharp against her cheeks cause she hadn't thought to grab a coat. Her bag was heavy on her shoulder, packed with things she'd grabbed without looking, clothes, her father's letter, the hidden drive she'd kept for so long and the sapphire ring which was warm in her pocket, a weight she couldn't bring herself to leave behind.
She didn't know how long she walked, the road stretched ahead, dark and empty, lined with trees that had lost their leaves months ago. No cars passed or lights flickered in the distance, it was just her, the dark, and the echo of her own footsteps.
Her mind was a storm she couldn't quiet.
“You knew”
She'd said those words to Dima in the dining room, in front of everyone, and he hadn't denied them. He'd stood there, his face pale, eyes holding hers, and he'd said yes with no excuses or explanations just yes.
Is my mother safe?
Yes.
Did she have to be humiliated?
Silence.
That silence was worse than any lie he could have told because it meant he'd made a choice. He'd looked at her mother's pain, the photographs cycling on the screens, the evidence of a life destroyed, and he'd decided it was necessary to do that without asking her, trusting her or letting her be part of it.
She'd given him everything. The drive, the trust, the love she'd been so careful to protect and still he chose to control and decide what she could handle.
Hot sudden tears came running down her cheeks, she didn't try to stop them but kept on walking, her breath misting in the cold air and her footsteps uneven on the gravel. She cried for her mother, the woman who had signed a contract she didn't understand, who had married a monster for safety and had been destroyed for a crime she didn't commit. She also cried for her father, who had died trying to protect her, leaving her a key she hadn't known how to use. Then for herself, for the girl who had walked into that cathedral thinking she was losing her freedom, not knowing that freedom was already gone.
Ahead was a flicker of light.
It was a gas station which was small, Its sign buzzing with a light that had seen better decades. Anya's legs were shaking, her feet raw in shoes meant for ballrooms, not country roads. She walked toward the light because it was the only light she saw not knowing where else to go and she needed to stop walking or she would fall.
The parking lot was empty, pumps were old while the glass in the station door had cracks. She stood under the fluorescent light, shivering, her breath coming in ragged gasps, trying to remember what came next.
She had money, some cash she'd taken from her room like an emergency fund her mother had given her months ago. She could call a cab, find a hotel or into the city consisting of crowds and have a life where no one knew her name.
She pulled out her phone which was in her bag, her fingers numb with cold. The screen glowed, showing a dozen missed calls, a hundred messages with Katya's name at the top, over and over.
She should call Katya, let her friend know she was alive, that she was out and she needed help. But the thought of explaining, putting words of what had happened and seeing the pity in Katya's eyes was something he couldn't do.
She was still staring at the phone when the headlights cut through the dark.
An old dark car pulled into the gas station, its engine coughing like it had seen better days. Anya's hand tightened on her phone, instinctive fear cutting through the fog of exhaustion. She'd been in this world long enough to know that cars appearing in empty parking lots at three in the morning were rarely friendly.
The car stopped, immediately the engine died and the door opened.
A woman stepped out, she was older, maybe fifty, with grey-streaked hair pulled back from a face that might have been beautiful once. She wore dark trousers, with a heavy coat, and the kind of boots meant for walking. Her eyes were grey, not steel grey like Anya's, but softer, like morning fog.
She looked at Anya while Anya did the same.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The gas station light buzzed, wind moving through the trees. Anya's hand stayed tight on her phone, ready to run, scream or fight if she had to.
"You're Anya." The woman's voice was low, rough, like she hadn't used it in a while. "I've been looking for you."
Anya stepped back. "I don't know you."
"No…." The woman moved closer, slow, careful, like approaching a wounded animal. "You don't but your mother does cause she sent me."
"My mother is…" Anya stopped. Her mother was in the house, broken, humiliated and trapped, not knowing where she was or if she'd left.
The woman reached into her coat, Anya tensed up ready to run, but what came out wasn't a weapon but a faded photograph, worn soft at the edges.
Anya took it.
The photograph showed two young women laughing, their arms around each other. One was her mother when she was younger, her face bright with joy then the other was the woman standing in front of her, younger but unmistakable.
"She was my best friend," the woman said quietly. "Before all of this, the money, men and the choices that cost her everything. She called me tonight telling me that you ran away from home, asking me to find you."
Anya stared at the photograph with her mother's face and the life she'd had before Nikolai and the slow drowning that had become her existence.
"She's okay?" The words came out rough, broken. "Is she okay?"
The woman was quiet for a moment. "She's alive, which is more than what we expected, some days." She took a step closer. "I'm Natalia, your mother asked me to take you somewhere safe so that no one can find you until you're ready to be found."
Anya looked at the car, the dark road beyond and the photograph in her hands looking back at the woman's eyes that held no judgment but just the patience of someone who had been waiting a long time for this moment.
"Why?" Anya asked. "Why would you help me?"
Natalia smiled, small and sad. "Because your father saved my life once and I've been waiting fifteen years to pay him back."
The name hit Anya like a physical blow. "You knew my father?"
"I knew your father, Dima's mother and the world they were trying to build before Nikolai burned it down." She opened the car door. "Come with me and I'll tell you everything. But not here or tonight cause you need to rest."