Riot
Page 70
As Kisa’s words washed over me, I knew they were true.
“And it worked,” I said, smiling back at my solnyshko so wide. “It was you who brought me home. Your soul called to mine when I was lost. And it’s still here now, when I am found.”
Kisa smiled through her tears and reached out to thread her fingers through mine. There was nothing left to say. Right now, as I sat in this cove with the other half of my soul, I knew that life had played out as it should.
Through tragedy, we were both stronger.
And through distance, our love was stronger.
She was mine.
I was hers.
Her, the girl, whose soul matched mine.
And I, the boy, who was made perfectly for her.
Finally home.
Happy.
At peace.
16
INESSA
Four days later …
“Inessa.”
The low voice pulled me from sleep. I was panting, my body slick with sweat. My muscles ached, and it felt like my legs couldn’t move.
“What’s wrong with me?” I questioned, confused.
I looked up into Valentin’s scarred face, my heart splitting with sorrow seeing his metal collar tightly around his neck.
“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.”
“She’s hurting you,” I said, and cried out when I tried move.
“Calm,” Valentin whispered, checking around us to make sure we were alone. “I’m fine. It’s you I worry about.”
“How long do we have?” I asked, my stomach cramping in the aftermath of the drugs. I clenched my eyes, not able to look down at the evidence of whoever’s release had soothed the drug’s hold on me.
“Not long,” Valentin told me sadly.
He reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. “Just hold on, Nessa. I will get you out of here one day, I promise.” Valentin released my hand, and I held out my little finger. Valentin’s blue eyes filled with sorrow as he stared at my finger. But lifting his little finger too, he wrapped it around mine.
“Big Brother Promise,” I said, and smiled at his beautifully ruined face.
“Big Brother Promise,” he rasped just as the drug began to take me under again.
Feeling a kiss on my head, I heard, “I’ll save you one day, Nessa. I promise. I’ll free you.”
As I gave in to the drugs, I saw Valentin in my mind. I saw his blue eyes, his shaved head … I saw the number on his chest. 194. Valentin was 194 … he was 194 …
The murmur of low voices drifted to my ears. Unfamiliar voices and scents drifted to where I lay. Forcing my heavy lids to open, I blinked away the sleep from my eyes. A white room came into view. I frowned. I had only ever seen dark walls. I frowned deeper, at least I thought I did. I tried to move my arm, but pain shot through me. My back. Something was wrong with my back.
I racked my mind, trying to remember what had happened, where I was. As I did, I suddenly became aware of a bulging arm lying over my waist. I stared down at the hand. It was rough and scarred. I didn’t know whose it was.
Fighting the fear threatening to take hold, I made myself face the pain and turn to see who I lay with. I heard deep, steady breathing coming from beside me. But no more fear came. Instead I felt safe.
Discreetly turning my head, I focused on the male in the bed. My memory returned like a train, slamming image after image into my mind.
Ilya, Ilya … Ilya …
My bottom lip trembled as I realized Ilya, my Ilya, lay beside me. His face was peaceful in sleep. I watched him, my heart pounding so fast. Bruises and cuts were everywhere on his skin. But they were fading.
I tried to think about where he had gotten them. Then I remembered … Master, catching us, me being tied up, Ilya having to fight …
As if feeling my stare, Ilya’s eyes opened. It took him a second to realize that I was awake. When he did, he sat up, covering my body with his own. “Inessa?” he asked, and searched my eyes.
Tears fell at the sound of my name on his lips. Then I remembered that we had discovered our names. We had known each other’s names. We would be able to find ourselves in whatever life came next.
Happiness burst inside of me. “You found me,” I whispered, and lifted my hand to Ilya’s stubbled face.
Ilya’s blond eyebrows pulled down. “Found you, krasivaya?”
“By my name,” I explained. “You called my name and found me.”
It took a moment for Ilya to understand my words. His face then paled and his eyes widened. His head shook. “No, moy prekrasnyy,” he murmured. “We are alive. We made it.”
I studied Ilya’s eyes, looking for deception. I couldn’t find any. Then I opened my mouth to ask how, when, and why, when a far-off scene played in my head.
Valentin … 194 … You kept your promise.
“Valentin,” I whispered aloud. Ilya smiled, such a handsome smile, and nodded. “194?” I questioned. Ilya nodded again.
“194 was Valentin,” Ilya explained, and a silent sob left my lips. I cried. I cried as more images from my life raced through my brain. They came so fast that I could barely focus.
Ilya leaned over and stroked his hand down my face. “What’s wrong, Inessa?”
“My head,” I explained. “I can remember. How can I remember?”
“You have been asleep for four days.” I gasped at this information. Ilya took my hand in his, instantly calming me down. “You have been cleared of the drugs.” Ilya held up my wrist. It was free of the bracelet. There was an angry red scar, evidence the drugs had been taken away.
My eyes searched the room. “Where are we?”
Ilya sat on the side of the bed, his torso twisted to face me. I noticed he had cuts and bruises everywhere. “Inessa, we are in Valentin’s house in Brooklyn, New York. He brought us back here. He and his new family helped free us all from the Blood Pit.”
I froze. “Master?”
“Dead,” he said flatly, but his tone was ice-cold.
“You?”
Ilya paused, then nodded. Leaning forward, I lay my forehead on his shoulder. Ilya’s hand threaded through my hair. It smelled sweet and clean.
At that thought, I quickly sat up, wincing when the pain surged from my back. “Maya?” I questioned in panic.
Ilya’s eyes softened. “She is here. She is safe.”
“And it worked,” I said, smiling back at my solnyshko so wide. “It was you who brought me home. Your soul called to mine when I was lost. And it’s still here now, when I am found.”
Kisa smiled through her tears and reached out to thread her fingers through mine. There was nothing left to say. Right now, as I sat in this cove with the other half of my soul, I knew that life had played out as it should.
Through tragedy, we were both stronger.
And through distance, our love was stronger.
She was mine.
I was hers.
Her, the girl, whose soul matched mine.
And I, the boy, who was made perfectly for her.
Finally home.
Happy.
At peace.
16
INESSA
Four days later …
“Inessa.”
The low voice pulled me from sleep. I was panting, my body slick with sweat. My muscles ached, and it felt like my legs couldn’t move.
“What’s wrong with me?” I questioned, confused.
I looked up into Valentin’s scarred face, my heart splitting with sorrow seeing his metal collar tightly around his neck.
“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.”
“She’s hurting you,” I said, and cried out when I tried move.
“Calm,” Valentin whispered, checking around us to make sure we were alone. “I’m fine. It’s you I worry about.”
“How long do we have?” I asked, my stomach cramping in the aftermath of the drugs. I clenched my eyes, not able to look down at the evidence of whoever’s release had soothed the drug’s hold on me.
“Not long,” Valentin told me sadly.
He reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. “Just hold on, Nessa. I will get you out of here one day, I promise.” Valentin released my hand, and I held out my little finger. Valentin’s blue eyes filled with sorrow as he stared at my finger. But lifting his little finger too, he wrapped it around mine.
“Big Brother Promise,” I said, and smiled at his beautifully ruined face.
“Big Brother Promise,” he rasped just as the drug began to take me under again.
Feeling a kiss on my head, I heard, “I’ll save you one day, Nessa. I promise. I’ll free you.”
As I gave in to the drugs, I saw Valentin in my mind. I saw his blue eyes, his shaved head … I saw the number on his chest. 194. Valentin was 194 … he was 194 …
The murmur of low voices drifted to my ears. Unfamiliar voices and scents drifted to where I lay. Forcing my heavy lids to open, I blinked away the sleep from my eyes. A white room came into view. I frowned. I had only ever seen dark walls. I frowned deeper, at least I thought I did. I tried to move my arm, but pain shot through me. My back. Something was wrong with my back.
I racked my mind, trying to remember what had happened, where I was. As I did, I suddenly became aware of a bulging arm lying over my waist. I stared down at the hand. It was rough and scarred. I didn’t know whose it was.
Fighting the fear threatening to take hold, I made myself face the pain and turn to see who I lay with. I heard deep, steady breathing coming from beside me. But no more fear came. Instead I felt safe.
Discreetly turning my head, I focused on the male in the bed. My memory returned like a train, slamming image after image into my mind.
Ilya, Ilya … Ilya …
My bottom lip trembled as I realized Ilya, my Ilya, lay beside me. His face was peaceful in sleep. I watched him, my heart pounding so fast. Bruises and cuts were everywhere on his skin. But they were fading.
I tried to think about where he had gotten them. Then I remembered … Master, catching us, me being tied up, Ilya having to fight …
As if feeling my stare, Ilya’s eyes opened. It took him a second to realize that I was awake. When he did, he sat up, covering my body with his own. “Inessa?” he asked, and searched my eyes.
Tears fell at the sound of my name on his lips. Then I remembered that we had discovered our names. We had known each other’s names. We would be able to find ourselves in whatever life came next.
Happiness burst inside of me. “You found me,” I whispered, and lifted my hand to Ilya’s stubbled face.
Ilya’s blond eyebrows pulled down. “Found you, krasivaya?”
“By my name,” I explained. “You called my name and found me.”
It took a moment for Ilya to understand my words. His face then paled and his eyes widened. His head shook. “No, moy prekrasnyy,” he murmured. “We are alive. We made it.”
I studied Ilya’s eyes, looking for deception. I couldn’t find any. Then I opened my mouth to ask how, when, and why, when a far-off scene played in my head.
Valentin … 194 … You kept your promise.
“Valentin,” I whispered aloud. Ilya smiled, such a handsome smile, and nodded. “194?” I questioned. Ilya nodded again.
“194 was Valentin,” Ilya explained, and a silent sob left my lips. I cried. I cried as more images from my life raced through my brain. They came so fast that I could barely focus.
Ilya leaned over and stroked his hand down my face. “What’s wrong, Inessa?”
“My head,” I explained. “I can remember. How can I remember?”
“You have been asleep for four days.” I gasped at this information. Ilya took my hand in his, instantly calming me down. “You have been cleared of the drugs.” Ilya held up my wrist. It was free of the bracelet. There was an angry red scar, evidence the drugs had been taken away.
My eyes searched the room. “Where are we?”
Ilya sat on the side of the bed, his torso twisted to face me. I noticed he had cuts and bruises everywhere. “Inessa, we are in Valentin’s house in Brooklyn, New York. He brought us back here. He and his new family helped free us all from the Blood Pit.”
I froze. “Master?”
“Dead,” he said flatly, but his tone was ice-cold.
“You?”
Ilya paused, then nodded. Leaning forward, I lay my forehead on his shoulder. Ilya’s hand threaded through my hair. It smelled sweet and clean.
At that thought, I quickly sat up, wincing when the pain surged from my back. “Maya?” I questioned in panic.
Ilya’s eyes softened. “She is here. She is safe.”
