Page 101 of Brutal Vows

“I changed her just before you came. She should be okay. This is just out of her routine. I have a bottle for her.”

Fuck my life. We’re basically heading into the Russian wilderness, a crying baby on hand to attract every predator out there, and with a bag with only three days of supplies for her.

Shaking my head, I start the car, switch on the headlights, and reverse out. “I’m going back the way we came and then continuing to the hunting lodge.”

“Yes,” Masha says. “It’s about an hour and a half’s drive from here.”

“Okay.” I continue to the highway. Let this party play out as Masha planned it. At some point, I’ll make sure Milana and I exit this stage with Zoe safe in my wife’s arms.

Next to me, Milana is tense, squeezing her hands, gripping the edge of her coat. Zoe is fussing in the back, and it’s destroying her. All she wants is to hold her child, but we can’t do anything. If things go wrong, I’d rather kill myself than hand her Zoe’s dead body to hold one last time. The risk isn’t worth it.

It turns quiet in the car as Masha manages to feed Zoe with one hand. I watch her, aware that her focus on me hasn’t wavered. The gun is still pointed at me, cocked. And she called me a trigger-happy cowboy.

We cross miles in strained silence, nobody talking, tense. The snow eases, then swoops in again in heavy gusts. I won’t be surprised if over two feet fall overnight. Maybe more. Luckily, I’m no stranger to driving in these conditions and would even tackle them on a bike if I had to.

A bike. In the barn. Two helmets.

Who knows what Masha meant.

I don’t have time to dwell on it though, as Masha gives me instructions to get off the highway. Traffic is quieter now, and I can’t see much in the dark except the road. When the car’s headlights hit the forest surrounding us, spooky images of dense pines and spruce lining the road flit past, thick and impenetrable. As we take two more turn-offs, the road becomes narrower, and the haunting forest seems to swallow us. We’re hugged by trees on both sides, their overlapping branches keeping the snow from falling thick to the ground, allowing me to still drive the country lane with ease.

“What do they hunt here?” I ask, wanting to know what we could possibly face at night should this car break down.

“Bears. Wild boar. Moose.”

I nod. No wolves, but I bet there could be some around. Without a weapon, I feel exposed. I have to disarm Masha.

We pass an old sign, but it’s discolored and has rusted loose from its nails. Not a warm welcome, then.

“How far are we?” I hate this guessing game, and right now, we seem to be driving eyes wide open into a trap.

“Five minutes,” Milana says.

She’s been here before. That’s worth something.

Fuck this shit. I take my foot off the gas and let the car come to a stop by itself. In the headlights, the road in front of us is covered with a dusting of snow—enough to tell me nobody has been down this road in the past half an hour, but before that? I have no idea.

“Why are you stopping?” Masha asks, that fucking barrel back on my biceps.

Thank God Zoe has dozed off again, probably calmed by the hum of the car and the wipers battling the steady snowfall.

I kill the car’s engine.

“What happens when we get there?” I turn and try to meet her gaze in the dark. It’s black outside. If it weren’t for the car’s lights, we’d see nothing.

“We set the stage.”

“For what?”

“So we can blow it up, in their faces.”

Fucking riddles. “You know we could be ambushed, driving in there? Those men in the black van could have back up stationed here.”

“Nobody comes here. Not since they cut the electricity and poisoned the lake years ago. It’s a dead man’s hunting ground now.”

Fucking Bratva. Always seem to go the extra mile. “How did they poison the lake?”

“Arsenic. Whatever you do, don’t go skinny dipping or drink the water.”