Page 120 of Brutal Vows

Milana manages without any fuss, and as soon as I feel her arms circle my sides, everything is right. She has a firm grip on my coat, her feet and legs positioned as if she’s done this many times.

Zoe’s little hands are stirring against my chest, and I lower the coat’s zipper a bit to give her air. She isn’t crying or fussing; it’s as if she knows she needs to be quiet and calm and let me deal with the last leg of our escape.

I turn on the motorbike, and in the glare of the headlight, the forest spreads out in front of us. Dark, menacing, but dusted with snow like a Christmas postcard. It will hide us, protect us tonight from anybody coming this way. We inch forward, at first heavy and uncertain as I find my footing with the new bike and strange terrain. The progress is slow as we keep to the edge of the lake, but then Milana taps my arm and points to the forest.

“Here!” she calls out. “A deer path!”

I turn into the dense pine, and she leans, working with me and not against me as I spot the opening, where the deer have beaten a tunnel through the thicket, making a path soft with pine needles and moss. There are tree roots and branches on the ground, but the scrambler’s suspension deals effortlessly with them. The tunnel is just the right size for us to make headway at a decent speed as the forest swallows us whole.

All my training seems to come together in this moment as we flee for our lives. The deeper we head into the woods, the calmer I get. I’m used to this: my go-to escape has always been on a motorbike, and every cell in my body is tuning in to what I need to do. Despite everything, we’re pulling this off.

Behind us, the past is on fire and turning into ash. We’re disappearing into the night and to a future I finally feel I have a firm grasp on.

56

MILANA

I cling to Luca, following every instruction he gave me on our wedding day. I lean with him and make sure our helmets don’t clash, but he isn’t going fast, keeping a steady pace as he navigates through the trees in the dark. He is so skilled, I’m quietly in awe of my husband. I trust him. His body has gone through hell, but still he keeps going, stable, solid, unwavering.

We don’t come across any wildlife, the bike’s noise making them scatter long before we catch them in the headlight. I’m not sure how long we weave our way through the woods, but when we exit on a narrow dirt road, I indicate for him to turn right and right again. Soon, we’re slipping onto the highway.

The snow has settled into a quiet, steady fall, muffling all sound. Other vehicles have turned the snow into slush, but we need to get off this potentially busier road; it isn’t safe.

The turn-off to the town comes up minutes later, and I tap Luca’s side to let him know. We don’t pass any other vehicles on our way. Nobody is following us. We’re ghosts. Running on adrenaline and fear, I’ve completely lost track of time.

As we head into the town, we’re the only folks on the street. There’s nothing charming about this place. It’s a relic from the Soviet past, but there are two hotels here, and we’re going to have to try our luck. When the first one comes up, Luca pulls off.

I flip up the visor. “They look closed,” I say, but I’m already clambering off the bike and working at the helmet’s strap to go check. “Give me a second.”

I hand my helmet to Luca, shake the snow off my hair and coat, then cross the street to push at the hotel’s door. When it swings open, I could cry in relief. A light bell sounds as I walk in and take the place in with a glance. There’s no star rating here, as if we would care. A red vinyl sofa is pushed against the wall and a threadbare carpet guides me to a laminate reception desk. When an acne-tormented teenager appears out of a back room, my tears are real, but I suppress them. There’s nothing to fear here. Absolutely nothing.

“Room for two?” I ask, direct, no small talk, the Russian way.

He’s holding a gaming remote in his hands, and he glances at the clock on the wall. A flicker of surprise registers on his face.

I follow his gaze. It is two in the morning.

“I have a room, but I should lock up for the night.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell my husband. He’s in the car.” The lie slips out without me thinking. Nobody needs to know we’re on a motorcycle.

I rush back to Luca with the good news.

“I’ll park the bike out of sight for now, in that alley. The less people who know, the better.”

I wait for him, but my heart squeezes as he treads cautiously and bites down on his jaw to hide the pain. “Riding the bike made my leg stiff,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’ll take it slow. Fake a normal walk. But you do the talking.”

“Talking too much won’t be very Russian of me. Just grunt and we’ll be fine. Whatever you do, don’t smile.”

He shoots me a lopsided grimace as he pulls a wad of rubles from his pocket. “I can grunt. Use this to pay. Got it off one of the Russians. He won’t miss it.”

With a shudder, I take the money. “Thank God.” There’s cash stitched into the baby bag, but it would be a mission to get it out and doing so could draw unnecessary attention. “Can we stay two nights? We need to rest.”

“Book two nights, but we’re getting out of here as soon as possible.”

I stroke Zoe’s head and lean in to peek at her through the opening in Luca’s coat. She’s sleeping and I love how snug she is against his chest.

He covers my hand with his own. “Lead the way. If needed, I’ll make as if I’m rocking her. Nobody will notice my limp.”