But I don’t stop dancing.
This is what Ezra taught me—how to move through the emotion, how to follow my feelings instead of the steps. My dancing becomes dramatic, wide sweeping arms and legs, erratic and desperate turning and falling and rising.
Thud.
The music crests and reaches a crescendo and I’m lost in it. I’m lost in the memory of his hands on me, his green eyes tracking my every move and feeding me fuel to live.
Thud.
Crash.
I spin and dip out of the turn, tumbling to the floor and rolling over, coming up on my knees—
I freeze.
Armed men burst through the front door while I was dancing and are coming toward me, guns raised. I rip my earbuds out and lift my hands, drawing back to sit on my heels as I look at the men dressed in all black with wide eyes.
“That’s Anya,” one of them shouts, and I hear the click of a man’s dress shoes from behind the throng of at least a dozen men.
They’ve found me.
Oh, God…
The four families have found me, and they’ve come to kill me.
I’m a statue in my panic, dropping my terrified eyes to the floor.
“Clear the warehouse,” someone says, and the crowd of men thins out as half of them sweep outward, away from the center of the clear open space where I kneel.
I focus on my breaths as terror grips me and I count.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
One. Two. Three—
They lower their weapons.
The few men remaining part and my eyes lock onto a man’s feet coming toward me from a distance, the click of his heels echoing in the warehouse. His footsteps stop in the center of the floor, but my eyes are glued to his feet.
Something in my soul pulses, causing my heart to skip a beat, and suddenly, I’m nervous. My hands tremble where I hold them above my bowed head, but it’s not from fear, it’s from…it’s from a familiar, prickling awareness. My eyes draw a line up his pressed navy slacks, skimming across his tailored suit jacket, glancing over his white shirt and blue tie, his chin, his lips, his vibrant green eyes…
Oh, my God.
“Ezra?”
He sighs and then he brilliantly smiles and my heart beats wildly, beating furiously at the sight of him.
I rise from the floor and run to him.
He opens his arms for me and I leap. He catches me, pulling me close as I wrap my legs around his waist. I press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale the scent of him deeply.
Peaches and cream and sunshine.
He smells like him.
It’s him.
Oh, God, it’s really him!
I pull my head back to look at him, locking into his green gaze for only seconds before I let my mind truly believe that it’s him, he’s here, this is real.
This is real.
I kiss his face, his cheeks, his lips, his nose; every inch of skin, I cover with a kiss, tasting the salt of my own tears that drip from my eyes onto his skin.
I squeeze him tighter and press my face into his shoulder, sobbing into his nice, clean jacket. I say the only thing I can think to say. “Mine?”
I feel the tension in his body slump and fade and the sound of his voice as he responds sends a shiver down my spine. “Yours.” He holds me tighter. “Forever, forever yours.”
I kiss him.
I kiss him with my entire body because I can feel him everywhere. I don’t ever, ever want to let him go.
“You found me,” I say.
“I found you, baby. I found you and I’m taking you home.”
Home.
Ezra found me and he’s taking me home and all I can do is cry. But these tears aren’t from sadness, or pain, or torment, or fear. These tears are an expression of pure joy that I welcome. These tears are cleansing my soul and for the first time in a long time, my soul is at peace.
I’m finally free and I’m going home.
Chapter 27
Anya
1 Week Later
“Lidia?” I drop my bag at the front door of the townhome Ezra rented just outside of Philadelphia. “Lidia!” I run to my little sister and throw my arms around her, knocking into her a little too hard.
We tumble to the floor in a fit of giggles and sobs as I hold her tight, stroking her hair as we lay on our sides. I pull my head back to look at her and fresh tears pool and fall.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she tells me as she cries.
I press my forehead to hers. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”
“I’m just gonna—” Ezra literally steps over us to continue on past, and Kostya follows suit.
Lidia sits up, swiping beneath her eyes. “You’re gonna make me mess up my mascara.”
I sit up, reaching out to stroke her hair with a smile. “And you did such a nice job of putting it on, too. I remember the first time you did it when you were…maybe thirteen? You put on way too much and just when you finished—”
“I sneezed.” She chuckles.
“Tiny little black lines all the way across your cheeks.” I laugh. “You thought it was the end of the world.”
“At the time, it was.” Lidia laughs and the sound of it is so sweet. “I cried for an hour and all the black lines dripped down to my chin.”
I smile at her. “And you’re going to have them again if you don’t stop crying now.” I’m having a hard time seeing her as an adult. But it’s been five years and she is one.
“Are you really okay?” she asks after a beat.
I nod. “Yes. I will be. Nothing’s easy right now.”
“I know. I just want you to be okay.”
“I’m alive.” I grin at her reassuringly. “And I’m here now. No one is ever going to take me away again. I won’t let that happen.”
A comfortable yet anticipatory silence falls.
“Do you want to…Are you ready to meet Brandon?” she finally asks.
I suck in a sharp breath as a bundle of nerves tugs tight in my gut. I got to see him on video chat every night this week while Ezra and I settled things and traveled back to the States. But this is my first time coming home.
Home.
Such a strange thought.
It’s a happy one, but strange.