There was nothing I could do from my place on the floor, yet I still tried to protect my sisters from him. I sat up a little straighter, put an arm out in front of Anne’s chest, and took hold of Margot’s hand behind me. Mathias looked down at me as I looked up at him. In our tense stare off, I tried to convey to him not to hurt my sisters; whatever he was going to do, he could do to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my father start to get up off his knees.

That caused Mathias to break our eye contact. He glared daggers at my father and said, “Don’t move.” He checked his watch, worry creeping onto his face as he started to pace. It was becoming clear that he may have lied about Henri not being needed anymore. But he only wanted me, there was no need to keep my sisters and father here without a warning of not to tell anybody. There was something else he was waiting for, something else that was causing his anxiety.

“«Yves, »” Anne whispered, “«you’re alive! We were so worried when you stopped contacting Mom. We thought you died…»” She paused, and when she continued her voice was trembling. “«If we get…out of her alive…you have to come back with us. »” I felt Margot squeeze my hand, as if she agreed with everything.

If I could have brought myself to speak, I would’ve told her that I loved her, that her and Margot would get out of this alive because…he only wanted me. I couldn’t go back with them if they wanted to stay alive. I would protect them until I got myself killed by Mathias. And he stopped pacing, like he knew I was thinking his name. He pulled his flip phone out as it started buzzing.

He held it between his shoulder and ear after he set down the case in his hand. He took his gun out of the holster, put the magazine back in. He said nothing when he closed the phone and put it back in his pocket. His footsteps echoed as he stood before me again. Anne stood, slowly, to set her foot down and I closed my eyes, hating myself for being unable to stop her.

“What-what are you going to do with us?” She asked, her voice only shaking a little.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Leave right now.” I felt Anne’s and Margot’s hands under my arms start to pull me back to my feet. I didn’t try to help them, it was useless. He wouldn’t let me go so easily. “Leave him,” he said, proving myself right.

“I’m not leaving without my brother,” she argued.

“You’ll see him again.” He clipped. “I promise.”

I opened my eyes, looked at Anne, pleaded with her to leave right now, to do whatever he wanted her to do. She looked back into my eyes, “I love you.” Tears started to fill her eyes. “That’s so gross to say to my brother, but I love you, Yves.” Margot followed up with her own “I love you,” then Anne wiped at her eyes and with one last look at me, they walked to the door. “You better not die for real,” she cried out as the door shut behind them.

“What does Onufrin have?” Mathias finally asked, pointing the pistol at my father. “Why’s he so important?”

“State secrets,” my father answered immediately. “He can ruin at least two countries with what he knows.”

“Really?” He uttered in disbelief. “All of this over some state secrets? And why are you working with him?”

“He saved my life.”

Mathias heaved a sigh as if this whole situation were incredibly stupid. “Where is he?” He asked with the inflection that he had to because someone was making him, not because he wanted to know.

“Somewhere in Ukraine last I heard,” my father said, “that’s all I know.”

“Get up,” he told my father. He holstered his gun once more, pulled me onto my feet. I leaned into him more than I wanted while we shuffled out of the warehouse, my father walking alongside us. He led us to my car, where I was forced into the passenger seat, and my father into the backseat. There was barely enough time for my father to ask me how I was doing, and for me to give him the finger, before Mathias got into the driver’s side. He locked the car doors, pulling away from the harbor.

I put my head against the window as we drove south. My father tried to make small talk with Mathias, asking him things like how Luis was, why he was with him in the first place, only for Mathias to cut him down at every opportunity. I tried to tune it out as much as I could. I didn’t want to listen my father make friends with the man who had tormented me for how many days now. I hoped my sisters were faring better. That no one was pursing them as they left. Anne’s face of hurt was vivid in my mind. She hadn’t made that face since high school. It hurt me knowing there was nothing I could’ve done to alleviate her pain. It was all out of my hands. I didn’t want to hurt her more by being with her. Mathias…Mathias was the safer bet.

Saying his name in my thoughts didn’t hurt as much anymore. I wasn’t sure when the shift had started, but now that I was aware of it, it horrified me. He abused me, and yet I…didn’t quite hate him. I curled up in my seat, pulling at my hair, making sure I was still alive, and I was still me.

“What’ve you been up to, Yves?” My father asked in an attempt to fill the silence. I choked on my words again and again while I continued to learn speech wasn’t something I could control anymore. I sniffled while tears filled my eyes and I desperately tried to stop myself before my father found out. But he always found out. “Quit crying,” he barked, “you’re not one of your sisters.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed as words I had wanted to say to Mathias tumbled out. I punctuated my sentence by kicking the glove box in front of me. My mind caught up with everything by the pain shooting through my ankle. I heard Mathias whistle as I clutched my ankle. It was only then, did fear start to creep in as I fully realized I swore in front of Mathias. I stayed leaned over, holding my ankle as I hoped he would forgive me just this once. He stayed quiet while I wallowed in my own mistake.

I wiped at my eyes, getting myself to stop crying by thinking about how much I hated my father. It hadn’t always been that way, I used to have so much respect for him. However, it changed as more and more time went by. He only told me to go hide. He never told me why. Never told me what my whole role was in this. I told myself the next time I saw him I would punch him, but that honor was taken from me by Henri. There wasn’t much power I would have behind any punch without me able to stand, anyway.

The car was blissfully quiet by the time Mathias pulled into what seemed like a back alley, but it wasn’t quite. Old, weathered buildings practically touching each other lined either side of the crumbling asphalt. He parked by one of the buildings, and I had a premonition that one of us were going to die. I wish I had been able to force out an “I love you” to my sisters. He helped me get out of the car before letting my father out. I was given the crutch again and he kept his hands on me to keep me from falling on the cracked pavement.

The door looked out of place against the rest of the building. It was too new, too modern. It swung open too easily. In front of us was small standing space at the foot of a flight of stairs. To our left was a closed door. We climbed the stairs to my dismay. Mathias carried me up the stairs, and I prayed my father wouldn’t turn around and see me. There was a door to the right at the stair’s landing with a hallway at the left. When he didn’t let me down, I figured we’d be climbing another set. As we walked down the narrow hallway, I was right.

The third flight of stairs was so horribly lighted that I thought we were walking to our doom. Or something like it when we faced the door at the right. My father opened it, and I was finally put down. There was one more flight of stairs to the immediate right of the door, but it led into a large room. A kitchenette had been placed near the entry way. As Mathias herded us further into the room, the floor creaking every time he took a step, a table greeted us.

Five chairs graced the table. Sitting at one head was Luis, arms crossed. He gestured for my father to take a seat; he sat at the side with one chair. Mathias confiscated my crutch as we took our seats opposite my father. I folded my freezing hands in between my thighs. The building was only wood with no insulation. The cold was seeping into the room, into me, the only one without a coat.

Mathias placed the thing he retrieved from Henri on the table. It clinked as he let it roll from his hand. A small silver barbell flecked with blood and dirt. “Single bullet. In the head,” he said.

Luis sighed, picking up the barbell in his hand to inspect it. “Didn’t I say not to kill him?” He set it down, tented his fingers in thought. “There’s not going to be a way to mitigate this.”

Mathias pocketed the barbell again. “But then you called,” he started sliding off his gloves, “said that if Henri couldn’t get the information to get it myself. So,” he handed me his gloves, “I got it myself.” He put his one size too big gloves on my freezing hands, not even having a chance to attempt to get them on myself. “Last known location is somewhere in Ukraine, with the information being state secrets.”

Luis blew out air from between his teeth, leaned back with his hands raised slightly in the air. “This is out of my hands.”

“They’ll kill him,” my father said quietly. “Once they find him they’ll kill him and anyone else he’s ever spoken to. And everyone they’ve ever spoken to.”

“How’s that my problem?” He asked.

“You don’t know how Vasiliy works, Luis.” My father stressed. “It’ll be a massacre disguised as a suicide.”

“I’m fully aware,” he said, standing. He walked over behind Mathias. “Imagine how he’ll react when you tell him you killed his nephew.” He slapped Mathias upside his head. He grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “I taught you nothing without good reason. And I expressly told you not to kill him.” He let go of Mathias’ hair and pointed a finger at my father from across the table. “Oh, and don’t think I ever forgot about you, Jean. I liked it better when you fell off the face of the earth.” He stabbed a hunting knife into the wooden table in front of me in his anger. “Now, we need to figure something out because I certainly don’t want to be collateral when Vasiliy gets his revenge.” He sat back down, leaning across the table to force the knife out of the table. “Matias, any thoughts?”

He straightened up in his chair. “I’m only here for debrief.”

“And then what?” He seethed. “You going to go back to that cabin and play house with Yves, all the while hoping I don’t call you out for a job or Vasiliy doesn’t come for you?”

Mathias flinched, tilting his head down slightly as my father interjected, “What’s this about ‘playing house’ with my son?”

Luis sent a glare toward my father. “Think of something, Matias.” He practically scolded. “Jean, what about you?”

“I could try to get a message out to Onufrin. That way he can move before Vasiliy gets to him,” my father offered. “I’ve nothing for Henri.”

“Yves,” I flinched when Luis said my name, “any thoughts on Henri?”

I was ready to shake my head, to choke out that I had nothing when a thought occurred to me. I tried to force my words out through my closed throat. I stopped trying when Mathias put a pencil and piece of paper on the table in front of me. I felt like a child as I wrote down:

Does Vasiliy actually care about Henri? He didn’t pick up when he called him. If that’s the case, he might not care that Mathias killed him.

I pushed the paper in front of Luis. He read over it, leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his stomach. “If that’s the case, we’ll feel it out.” He let out another large sigh. “Tell me why I should care, other than getting killed, why Onufrin can’t be found, Jean.”