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“Indeed," she says, pulling out a few meal replacement bars, more cash in various currencies, and a few prepaid credit cards.
“Are you guys still there? Or are you bonding and shit?" Aleks snaps.
"Sterilized scalpel at the ready, fucker. Let's go.”
Renata braces, her muscles tense.
"You're going to have to make a small incision, just enough to reach the tracker."
She shakes harder and looks away.
“Aleks, hold on a second.”
I rummage through the kit and pull out a nip of vodka. "Drink it."
She pops the top off and gulps, comes up sputtering, and tosses the empty bottle onto the floor. "Fucking do it before I pass out."
"Hold onto me. Squeeze if you have to, as hard as you want.”
She nods.
I lift the scalpel, draw in a breath, and, in one steady move, make a small, straight cut. She hisses as the blade slices through her skin. Blood wells up, and I quickly dab it with a piece of gauze.
I prod the sliced skin aside. “There it is. I see it.”
"I think I'm gonna throw up,” Renata says. I reach for the ice bucket and empty it onto the floor. She holds it up to her mouth and dry heaves.
Aleks is giving me instructions on the other line. "Use the tweezers. Be gentle, it’s probably started clotting to the tissues, you’ll need to be careful not to cause more damage when you remove it.”
I grasp the tracker with tweezers, keeping my hand steady with everything I've got. It's slippery, and I almost drop it, but finally, it's free, the fucking tracker clasped between the bloody tweezers.
“Got it.”
Renata heaves.
"Good job. Now disinfect and bandage the wound, and destroy that damn thing.”
Yeah, I have no intention of destroying it.
I bandage her wound, thankfully small and easy to fix. When I’m done, I can't help but bend and kiss her bandaged arm. I take the bucket from her and place it beside the discarded champagne and ice on the floor.
This all feels strangely symbolic as if taking that tracker out removed something wedged between us.
“Did you take care of that tracker yet?” Aleks asks.
“Yeah about that, I want you to put this thing into a drone and fly it to the most inconvenient places you possibly can, like over huge bodies of water or something.”
Aleks chuckles darkly, and Renata smiles at me.
"I am absolutely on it. Now go get ready; it’s picture time.”
I hang up the phone and take a moment to hold her tighter on my lap. I hug her to me, careful not to touch the tender spot on her bandaged arm or the fading bruises on her abdomen.
I hate that she’s been hurt, that I let it happen. I’ll never harm her again. She’s a victim in this bullshit, and I’m going to burn the fucking world until everyone and anything that will hurt her is annihilated.
She’s mine.
With the tracker gone, we are ready to go. Wordlessly, we get ready, careful to get her back into her dress so we can take our poses for social media. We take pictures at all the iconic landmarks, our defiant smiles daring anyone to come after us.
