Page 43 of Maksim
Right now these people don’t believe Elira has help. I kill the wife, that changes. I kill the wife, and immediately, my identity becomes loads more important. They don’t just find me, they find Nikita. I was prepared to face this with him, but fuck, if all I have to do is claim not to have her and they’ll leave it be, I could avoid that exchange altogether.
That organization is not going to go to some village in Albania just to slaughter some girl’s family to avenge some cockroach on their payroll. He was a trafficker. He made them money, yes, but believe me, if he was that important, they would’ve found Elira by now. They were probably relieved to see his death was one of revenge instead of a message for them from rivals.
They aren’t going to Albania. The wife flying over to kill Elira’s family also seems unlikely, unless she’s as crazy as Elira. She’s emotional. She lost her husband. It’ll pass.
Alik finishes his drink in silence, then I walk him out. As soon as he’s gone, I put the flash drive in my laptop, too curious not to take a peek.
I skip over the doorbell stuff and go straight to everything caught on webcam.
The hairs on my arm raise as I watch her with Daniel’s hand wrapped around her throat. When Elira pulls the knife from beneath her dress and rams it into his side, a shooting pain occurs in my stab wounds. I find myself absently touching my bandages.
I can see now that she went easy on me that first night. That, catching me off guard, she could’ve killed me if she’d had it in her. In the video, she looks crazed as she shoves the knife into Daniel’s abdomen, over and over and over, so fast he doesn’t have a chance to fall.
When he stumbles backward, his hand on his stomach, his head downcast, she takes a strong step forward and slashes the knife across his carotid, sending blood spraying. He spins on his way to the floor, splattering the camera and effectively blocking what happens next.
But I saw the body, so I know. She stabbed him at least a dozen more times.
Shaking my head, I close my laptop. I throw a look over my shoulder at the hallway that leads to my room where she’s hiding, terrified of a monster that doesn’t exist. Once again, I consider killing her before she gets the sense to kill me first.
And once again, I can’t bring myself to do it.
13
ELIRA
“Look, it’s Diellza,” I say to myself, pointing out the glass sliding door that leads to the back patio up to a cloud in the clear blue sky with two jutting, white puffs that look vaguely like rabbit ears. My lips spread into a soft smile as I pretend to be home, to be speaking to Bora, my youngest sister, her stuffed rabbit named Diellza clutched tightly to her chest.
My heart aches, but I don’t let my smile fall, not yet. I’ve spent too much time ruminating on loss, on regret. I don’t feel like being sad today.
“I bet you’re doing fine, zemer.” I have to fight to stretch my lips. I picture Bora and Asher back home with our mother, sitting at the dinner table envious of the life I’m living. Asher’s hands will still be sticky from collecting honey in the hives we harvest on our property, and Mami will be scolding her for not already washing up.
I smile at the defiance I know will be in her eyes as she stomps to the washroom, returning with her frizzy hair and dirty face from a day of exploring and working with animals she was born to love. She’ll tease Bora for still clinging to a stuffy at the age of eight, and now that I’m no longer there, Mami will have to be the one to remind Asher of the photo we keep on the mantle of her sucking her thumb at age ten.
I thought I wanted more than that life, but now when I close my eyes and I breathe in, I long for the smell of the apple tree in our meadow and the gnawing of the goat’s teeth when it mistakes my shorts as food. I miss the stickiness of honey and the feel of the warm sun on my back. I dreamt of being served important dinners among colleagues, but I’d kill to be slaving away in a crowded kitchen among friends again, preparing a feast for locals and tourists alike.
But I won’t think about that too hard. Not today. Today I will smile, remembering the softness of Bora’s chestnut hair, the shade of our father’s—a man she never got the chance to meet—as I carefully wove it into two braids.
A sigh rushes past my lips as I open my eyes.
God, I miss them.
A sound snaps my attention to the front entryway, and I push off the wall to sit up straight, my spine erect, the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.
I’ve had this same physical response a dozen times already today, so I’m not actually expecting anyone to be there. My guard has been raised since last night, not allowing me to relax for more than a few minutes at a time. I dozed off in the closet only to snap awake a hundred times over until morning came.
I’m exhausted, but as far as I’m aware, safe.
Only this time, the reaction isn’t in vain, the stimulus not imagined.
The front doorknob rattles like someone is unlocking it, and although it’s probably Maksim, my eyes pop. I jump up from my spot by the back door and rush toward the hallway, but the front door opens before I get there.
I press my back against the hallway wall and put my hand over my mouth, my heart beating wildly while I wait to hear signs that whoever is here saw me.
A beeping sounds, the alarm Maksim talked about, but it stops a few moments later after a succession of beeps.
“Now,” a young woman says. “Where were we?”
She giggles a moment before the giggles turn to moans that move this way. As quietly as I can, I creep to Maksim’s room and open the door only enough to slide through, hoping the couple doesn’t hear the noise.