Chapter Five: Giana Run!!
1333 Words
I haven’t slept properly since.
Every sound outside the apartment makes me tense.Every shadow feels like a warning.
Because I know what men like him do.
They don’t forget.
And they definitely don’t lose interest.
They hunt.
Which is why I am standing in front of my closet at two in the morning pulling out the emergency bag I promised myself I would never need again.
My hands hesitate before I grab it.
Running means starting over.
Again.
New names.
New lies.
New fears.
I swallow hard and pull the bag free anyway.
Because staying is not an option.
Not when I saw recognition in his eyes.
Not when I saw curiosity.
Not when I saw interest.
Interest from Ronan Volkov is not attention.
It is ownership waiting to happen.
And I cannot risk that.
Not with them here.
My eyes drift toward the hallway.
Toward the small bedroom where two small people sleep peacefully, unaware that their entire world might change by morning.
My chest tightens painfully.
I move quietly, automatically. Survival mode switching on like muscle memory.
Only essentials.
Always essentials.
I kneel beside the bed and pull out the metal box hidden underneath.
Cash first.
Always cash.
Passports next.
Birth certificates.
Medical cards.
The documents I prayed I would never have to use again.
My fingers pause when I pick up Mikhail’s file.
Then Alina’s.
My children.
My reason.
My greatest fear.
If Ronan finds out about them
My stomach twists violently.
Men like him don’t just see children.
They see heirs, leverage, weakness and control
I do not want them in grow in Ronan’s world
I can’t let it happen.
I grip the papers tighter.
“No,” I whisper.
He cannot know they exist.
I start packing faster now.
Mikhail’s warm hoodie.
Alina’s pink pajamas.
Their toothbrushes.
The stuffed rabbit Alina refuses to sleep without.
I press it briefly to my chest before putting it inside.
This is not a life.
This is survival.
And I hate that this is all I know how to give them.
I sit on the bed suddenly, exhaustion crashing over me.
If I leave
I leave Gio
My eyes drift toward the living room.
Toward his passed out form as always drunk and barely in touch with his environment.
My brother.
My responsibility once.
My reason for everything.
Five years ago I walked into hell so he could live.
And now I am planning to walk away.
Guilt burns in my throat.
But anger follows quickly.
Because part of me is still tired.
Tired of saving him.
Tired of cleaning up consequences.
Tired of being the strong one.
My jaw tightens.
“I already saved you,” I whisper toward the wall separating us.
“I can’t do it again.”
The words hurt more than I expect.
Because they feel final, selfish and nexessary.
I stand again and continue packing.
Then something else creeps in.
Something worse than fear. The memory of that weekend the weekend I gave myself to the monster, the way he hands moved and explored every inch of my body, the way he took me in every position and though I was sore I wanted more I needed more.
I press my legs together to salve the throbbing tension between my legs I am sure a wet patch is already forming.
I haven’t gotten laid since that night and even when I touch myself I see him in my eyes closed and visualize him doing the same things he did that night to me all over again.
It comes without permission.
Like it always does when I’m weak.
Sunlight over the ocean.
Warm wind through open balcony doors.
His voice lower when he wasn’t giving orders.
The rare moments when Ronan wasn’t the Pakhan.
Just Ronan.
My face heats immediately.
“No,” I whisper harshly.
But my mind betrays me anyway.
The way he watched me like I was a goddess
The way he touched me like I wasn’t something he bought.
I press my hands against my face.
Shame follows instantly.
Because my body always remembers.
I hate that part of myself.
Hate that trauma and comfort got tangled together.
Hate that somewhere deep down I remember feeling safe with the most dangerous man I have ever known.
“I was desperate,” I tell the empty room.
“I had no choice.”
I say it again.
And again.
Until it sounds like truth instead of justification.
I zip the bag halfway.
We leave at sunrise.
Before he asks questions
Before he notices details.
Before he sees Mikhail’s eyes.
That thought alone makes cold panic flood my veins.
Blue eyes exactly like his and the hair he wouldn’t need a fairy god mother to tell him mikhail is his son.
Alina might have taken my looks but she has her fathers expressions and eyes too.
I slam the zipper shut harder than necessary.
No.
We leave in a few hours.
I reach for my phone.
Then stop.
Then power it off completely.
No tracking.
No signals.
No mistakes.
Silence settles over the apartment again.
Too quiet.
Something feels wrong.
My instincts start whispering before I even know why.
Then
A sound.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just the soft, unmistakable click of a door opening.
My blood turns cold instantly.
I didn’t hear footsteps in the hallway.
I didn’t hear a knock.
I try not to panick it could just be Gio leaving the house to go get drunk all over again.
I should probably tell him I am leaving, maybe he will feel remorse fall down and beg me not to
I turn slowly.
And the world stops.
Ronan Volkov stands in my doorway like he never left my life.
Dark coat.
Perfect posture.
Calm dominance.
blue eyes taking in everything.
The bag.
The papers.
The fear.
Me.
His gaze settles on the packed bag first.
Then rises slowly to my face.
No surprise.
No confusion.
Just quiet confirmation.
“You were planning to leave.”
Not a question.
A statement.
My heart is beating so hard I feel dizzy.
“You can’t just walk in here,” I manage.
My voice sounds smaller than I want.
His eyebrow lifts slightly.
“I knocked.”
“You didn’t.”
A small pause.
“No,” he agrees calmly. “I didn’t.”
My anger sparks despite the fear.
“You need to get out.”
His eyes move toward the hallway.
Toward the bedrooms.
Toward everything I love.
Every protective instinct in my body goes feral.
I step sideways slightly.
Blocking his view.
His gaze drops to that movement immediately.
Sharp.
Observant.
Dangerous.
Then back to my face.
Interesting.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Men like him notice everything.
“I think,” he says quietly, “we should talk.”
“No.”
The word comes instantly.
Automatic.
His expression doesn’t change.
“Running will not solve your problem.”
My hands tremble.
“You are my problem.”
A small silence falls.
Then something dark flickers in his eyes.
“Five years,” he says softly. “And that is how you greet me?”
My throat tightens.
“You weren’t supposed to find me.”
His voice drops slightly.
“I wasn’t looking.”
That makes my stomach drop.
“Then why are you here?”
A small pause.
Then
“You walked back into my world.”
My pulse stumbles.
He takes one slow step inside.
Then another.
Like inevitability.
Like gravity.
Like fate I tried to outrun.
“Running again, Giana?”
The way he says my name makes it clear.
He never forgot.
I say nothing.
Because fear is rising too fast.
Because instinct is screaming too loudly.
Because something is about to break.
Then
A small sleepy voice comes from the hallway.
“Mama?”
Time stops.
My blood freezes.
Ronan’s head turns slightly toward the sound.
Curiosity appearing for the first time.
My heart stops.
- Writer
