One of Vince’s men.
It was only a matter of time.
“Looks like Daddy found us after all,” I whisper to Sofiya, keeping my face neutral as I select an avocado, squeezing it like I’m interested in its ripeness rather than planning an escape. “Let’s see if we can’t lose Uncle Creepy over there, yeah?”
I abandon my cart and head toward the restrooms at the back of the store. I keep my pace deliberately unhurried. Inside, I check each stall—empty—then climb onto the toilet in the last one. A small window near the ceiling provides my way out.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” I murmur to my daughter as I shimmy through the opening, careful not to bump her head. “Mommy promises no more bathroom gymnastics after this.”
We emerge relatively unscathed behind the store, near the dumpsters. I sprint to the car, strap Sofiya in with trembling hands, and peel out of the parking lot just as I spot Vince’s man rushing out the front entrance, phone pressed to his ear as he looks for me.
My heart thumps against Sofiya’s tiny back as I drive. I take random turns, doubling back, using every evasion technique Vince ever mentioned in my presence.
The weight of his absence crashes over me again—the irony that I’m using his lessons to hide from him.
Only when I’m certain we’re not followed do I pull over at a gas station with an ancient payphone. I fish quarters from my purse with shaking hands. The whole time, Sofiya fusses against me, sensing my distress.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I soothe her. “Mommy’s just going to leave Daddy a message.”
The phone rings four times before his voicemail picks up. His voice hurts far worse than I expected it to, and I have to grip the metal booth to keep from collapsing.
“It’s me,” I say when the beep sounds. “I saw your man today. He’s good, but not good enough.” I pause, gathering myself.“I want you to understand something, Vince. This isn’t about punishing you. I wouldn’t— I can’t— Oh, fuck me. It doesn’t matter, okay?” Another pause. “Sofiya is safe. She misses you. And I?—”
I cut myself off, biting back three words that would destroy my resolve.
Can’t saythoseanymore.
I hang up, my fingerprints smeared with tears I didn’t realize I was shedding.
Back at the beach house, I triple-check the locks, draw the blackout curtains, and set up the makeshift perimeter alarms—fishing line strung with bells around the property’s edge. Amateur hour compared to Vince’s security systems, but it’s all I have right now.
Eventually, night falls, bringing with it a symphony of ocean waves and crying seagulls. I feed Sofiya, bathe her, and rock her to sleep singing lullabies my mother used to sing to me. The mundane rituals of motherhood hurt so bad when they’re done alone like this.
“Your daddy would hate this place,” I tell her sleeping form. “Too exposed, he’d say. He’d flip a mattress over the window.”
I trace her perfect little features in the dim light—Vince’s eyes, my nose, cheeks that somehow belongs entirely to herself.
“But maybe that’s why I love it,” I continue. “Because for once, we’re making choices based on what we want, not what we fear.”
Later, I sit on the porch again, nursing a glass of wine and staring at the black expanse of ocean. The moon casts a silver path across the water, like a road leading back to him if only I were brave enough to take it.
Or perhaps too fearless to stay away.
The burner phone rings, shattering the silence. Only one person has this number.
“Tell me you’re okay,” Natalie’s voice comes through, tight with worry.
“Define ‘okay,’” I reply, taking another swallow of wine. “Physically unharmed? Yes. Emotionally functional? Not in the least.”
“One of Vince’s men found me today,” she says. “Asked questions. Pointed a gun at my head. The usual Akopov hospitality.”
My blood freezes. “Natalie?—”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” she cuts me off. “But Rowan, they’re closing in. Vince is… I’ve never seen him like this. He’s gone nuclear. The entire Eastern Seaboard is looking for you.”
“Let them look,” I say.
“He’s suspended the operation against your father, you know. Completely shut it down.”