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The practitioner, who is often silent on my arrival, seems to be far too agreeable with Layla tonight. Most likely because only a month ago, he stitched the bullet hole in my shoulder and advised me I should stop being so reckless.
“And didn’t we agree you should have a low profile by not contacting me?” I reply with a calm contempt.
Layla places her hands on her hips in disbelief. “Yes, we agreed to that until you walked into the Armani bar where I’m working, at the moment.” She kicks up to sit beside me. What was once a living room in the practitioner’s two-story home is now a medical room.
I’d purposefully pushed Layla to find employment in one of the Armani clubs. That way, I knew the Bratva were less likely to target her because if they did, as an employee of the Italian mafia, they might feel wrath tenfold.
Although after tonight, dancing in the fight ring with the head of the family, Luca, I admired him more when others had a right to fear him.
“I mean, I guess you won.” Layla shrugs casually.
“Only because he handed me the win,” I grit out as I go to stand. The room spins, and Layla catches me before I fall back into the chair.
“Whoa there. Is that normal?” she asks the practitioner.
I steady my breath, frustrated with my body. It had failed me tonight as well. It must’ve been the countless sleepless nights catching up to me. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t until Elanee was truly set free.
“Considering his condition and being in what sounds like a street brawl, on top of the amount of stress Mr. Volkov has running his businesses, I would firstly suggest sleep,” Doc says.
“See. Fine.” I offer a tight smile.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I look at the recent images that have been uploaded. Images of Elanee going about her day-to-day, mingling with her clients and smiling as if she hadn’t a care in the world. I’d always envied that smile. When I first met her, I’d wanted to break her for it. Now, I’d give anything for it to be directed at me instead of the apparent hellfire resentment she has for me. And nor could I blame her.
I shrug Layla off, a reminder that I shouldn’t have let either of them get close to me. “I have work to do. Thanks, Doc.”
Layla walks behind me in disbelief. “Did you not just hear the doctor?”
“Be careful, Layla. You almost sound like you care,” I tease.
I push past the searing pain and take two steps toward the door. On the third, black and white stars return, and the last thing I remember is Layla reaching out to catch me as I fall into an abyss.
10
ELANEE
Sometimes, I think the world is too small. I used to be in awe as to how big I thought it was by the prospect of how many countries I wanted to travel to throughout my ballet career. But I quickly learned that not all things in the world are beautiful, not all serendipitous encounters are a blessing, and fate can upheaval even our wildest expectations.
Seizing control of our lives isn’t as easy as we’re told, and most of us are cheaply bought out. All of these things I’ve learned over time. And then, at some point, I was broken down into this submissive, frightful creature. And I hate it.
What I detest most is that every morning, I wake with these thoughts after a restless night’s sleep because of nightmares induced by things I can’t unsee by a man who has as much evil as he does power.
Despite the chill morning, I find myself walking for longer than I usually would. Last night had especially been one of those nights. I can’t run like I used to; I roll my ankle at the best of times from simply walking, but I still enjoy walking. Sometimes, it feels like it’s the only thing I can do to try and straighten my thoughts. Other times, I feel like an unnoticed phantom drifting through the world.
I admire the grand building and hospital, curious about how people’s lives come and go. Some were mourned, and others just slip away as if they never existed. Quietly, I hope I’m the latter because that way I can guarantee my family’s safety.
A woman in all black leather steps out of the hospital. I make a double take and realize it’s my twin sister, Layla. I freeze. I’m overrun with the urge to run to her and embrace her—another serendipitous encounter. Tears fill my eyes as I think about our memories. Had I not moved to Russia or left her behind, none of this would have happened. But even then, I wasn’t so sure; fate had its own plans. But the thing that holds me back is what always had. Her safety.
She looks exhausted, and I wonder what she’s doing at the hospital. Is she okay? Is it someone we know?
A car honks at me as I absentmindedly step out onto the road to reach her. I take a step back onto the safety of the curb, reprimanding my dazed state. Too much careless reminiscing. When I look up at her, I realize she’s looking in my direction.
No. If Layla sees me, she won’t be able to stop herself. She’ll follow me.
So I do the only thing I can. I run.
I’m grateful for the busy road that comes between us. I can hear her screaming out my name in the distance, but it’s quickly diluted by the honking of cars. I don’t look back. Can’t look back as I awkwardly run as fast as I can to get away from her. Pain erupts from my feet and up my legs from the strain of running when I hadn’t for so long.
The only thing I can do for her and my parents is run away until they never find me or hopefully stop looking.
