Chapter Text
Stalingrad, Russia – 1985
The tension in the room is palpable.
Anastasia can barely stop herself from squirming in her seat. The woman sitting across from her is eying her with such an intensity that Anastasia feels as if she were staring directly into her soul.
But that’s not what’s making Anastasia so uneasy.
It isn’t the fact that the right side of the woman’s jacket is slightly baggy and it’s not the suitcase she left in the hallway filled with cash. It’s not even the fact that this woman seems to know everything about her family.
What makes her so uneasy is how calm the woman is.
As if this were barely more than a quick trip to a store. As if she were buying a pack of flour and not a child.
Anastasia shudders. What is she even doing here?
She stands up with purpose, crossing her arms above her chest. “I don’t know what has gotten into me, Miss-.” Only now she realizes that she doesn’t even know the woman’s name. She hasn’t introduced herself.
And she makes no advances to do so now.
Anastasia clears her throat and continues: “This is ridiculous. I don’t know who sent you, nor do I want to know. My family is not for sale. If you leave now, I will refrain from calling the police.”
The woman just looks at her. She is unsettlingly calm. A shudder runs down Anastasia’s spine. That is not the look of a woman who is just going to leave. This is the look of a woman who will get what she wants, whatever it takes.
“We made it work this far”, Anastasia continues to not let the silence take over, “This is not a solution. We can make it work.”
“And how long is that going to last?”, the woman asks.
“As long as it has to!” Anastasia knows that she shouldn’t show her anger, that the other woman will not hesitate to use her emotions against her. But she can’t hold back the sharp edge that has entered her voice. Who does this woman think she is to question her integrity? To question the undying love she has for her family? “We are done here.”
“Other parents would pay a fortune for their daughter to have an opportunity like this.”
“Then why are you paying us?”
The left corner of the woman’s mouth twitches ever so slightly. As if she had been expecting to hear this.
“This is your daughter’s chance to be more than you ever imagined possible. Your chance to get out of your debt. To take care of your family.” She stands up smoothly and is standing right next to Anastasia in a split second.
Anastasia barely sees her move towards her.
The woman leans in and whispers: “Your whole family.”
Anastasia follows her gaze to her belly.
Impossible.
There is no way this woman could know – Anastasia herself had only known for a day. She hasn’t even told Ivan yet.
“This shouldn’t be something you have to think about.”
Tears rise into Anastasia’s eyes. “You say that as if we aren’t talking about selling our own child.”
“Think of it more like an adoption. An adoption that comes with certain benefits for you, your husband, your daughter and your unborn child.”
Suddenly, Anastasia is overcome by a dizziness that makes her stumble. She leans against the sturdy, but old dresser, trying to get her thoughts in order.
The woman carries on unswerving: “We will take good care of her. Food on the table, an education, a purpose to fulfill.”
Like yours? Stealing children? Anastasia bites her tongue. Angering the woman might not be in her best interest.
“But no family”, she presses out instead, slowly straightening up again.
“A different kind of family”, the woman returns, still unsettlingly calm.
Anastasia scoffs: “You really believe that?”
She turns around. The woman raises an eyebrow, letting her gaze shift from Anastasia to the shabby furniture, the paint slowly flaking from the uninsulated walls and back to the young mother.
“Family alone won’t do her any good”, the woman says coldly.
More tears rise into Anastasia’s eyes. Not because of the way the woman had said it, but because she knows the woman is right. There isn’t much she can offer her daughter, hell, she can barely offer her a roof over her little head.
No, this is insane.
Just as Anastasia opens her mouth to return something, the woman continues: “I am going to be brutally honest with you. If you don’t let your daughter come with me willingly and in return for a comfortable life, then we will have to rely on different measures.”
Now she is showing her real face. Anastasia crosses her arms in front of her chest again. She hopes it makes her seem more confident. She hopes this way she can hide the fact that her hands are shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am giving you a choice.”
Deep down Anastasia knows that there is no choice. There never has been. By stepping through their door, this woman had sealed their fate. Anastasia wants to wipe the tears away that are rolling down her cheeks, but she knows it is no use.
“You promise that she will be fine?” Anastasia can barely bring herself to look at the woman. Both of them know that there is no going back now. Anastasia has made her decision, though there never has been a decision to be made in the first place.
The woman places a hand on Anastasia’s shoulder. It takes every ounce of strength the young mother has in her not to shy away from the touch. “You daughter will thrive, Mrs. Alianovna.”
She simply nods, knowing that she can’t trust her voice to even get out a single word. Anastasia motions for the woman to follow her into the hallway, where her husband is slowly pacing up and down, their precious daughter safely cradled in his arms.
Blissfully unaware of the cruel decision her parents had been forced to make.
Ivan Romanov looks up as his wife puts a hand on his arm. The tears in her eyes say more than a thousand words.
“I wish we could- “
“They can give here so much more than we can.” Ivan doesn’t know if he is trying to convince himself or his wife. Either way, his words bring no peace of mind.
Anastasia sobs and leans her forehead against her sleeping daughter’s, silently whispering empty promises to her.
The strange woman picks up the suitcase, but Ivan shakes his head. She puts it on the dresser to her left.
“We need to be on our way.” There is no compassion in her voice, no trace of any emotion.
Anastasia ignores her as best as he can, trying to soak in every precious second she has left with her daughter. At last, she places a soft kiss on her head and whispers: “We will always be with you, Natalia. Always and forever.”
She steps back so that Ivan can walk up to the woman. Hesitantly, he hands his only daughter to the woman, tears already streaming from his eyes.
The woman doesn’t waste any time. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Before they even know what is happening, the woman has stepped outside and left behind the mourning parents. Everything happens so fast that for a moment Anastasia isn’t sure if this might be nothing more than a dream.
But then her eyes land on the empty crib in the living room. The realization of what she has just done hits Anastasia like a punch to the gut. It pushes the air from her lungs, and she collapses into her husband’s arms.
His body is shaking, but he holds her as close as he can.
After all, she is everything he has left now.
Stalingrad, Russia – 1986
“And she never said where she would take her?”
Anastasia presses the landline-phone closer to her ear to not miss a single word the woman on the other end is saying.
“Right. Thank you. And when was this again?... Five months ago… no, don’t worry, I won’t call the police. Thank you for helping me!”
She hangs up and hurries to the table in the middle of the living room. Within the last year one of its legs had given in and Ivan had only fixed it provisionally. Now you couldn’t put a pen onto the tabletop without it rolling off.
But Anastasia doesn’t care. She never has.
With bold strokes of her pen, she writes down what the other mother had told her about the kidnapping of her own daughter.
Anastasia leans over one of the maps of Russia and puts another small x on the home of the other missing girl. There are twelve x’s in total, including their own address.
The faintest smile appears on Anastasia’s face. She is getting closer, she can feel it.
“Honey, I am home!”
Anastasia doesn’t look up as her husband stops in the doorframe and leans against it.
“I just got off the phone with another family”, Anastasia says by way of explanation. “They say that their daughter was kidnapped five months ago, not far from- “
“You need to stop this.”
Anastasia stiffens. She doesn’t look up as she asks: “What are you talking about?”
“All of this”, Ivan returns and walks up to the table. “It is eating you up. Ever since you… ever since…”
He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Anastasia grabs ahold of the edge of the table. She holds on so tight that her knuckles turn white.
Ivan clears his throat: “Ever since you miscarried you are burning out. You can’t keep going like this. We can start new. We can try again. We can take the money and- “
“If you so much as think about touching that money- “
“Anastasia, at least- “
“It is blood money, Ivan! It is the reason why our daughter was taken from us! We should have refused!”
Ivan pinches the bridge of his nose. “We wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Anastasia huffs and takes a step towards him. She must look up at him, but he still takes half a step backwards as Anastasia screams: “It was our duty as her parents to try!”
They have had versions of this conversation almost every day over the last year. And every time it comes down to the same thing. The same feeling that is slowly killing Anastasia from the inside. That she has failed as a parent. That she has betrayed her daughter when she was most vulnerable.
And every time all that Anastasia is asking for is for Ivan to admit that too. But like every time, her husband replies: “We didn’t have a choice.”
“We have a choice now.”
She backs away and resumes her work at the table. Ivan could join her. He could at least stay to watch her. To give her some kind of support. But he can’t. Not without breaking. Not without having to accept that it was just as much his fault as it was hers.
“Don’t come to bed too late.”
Anastasia doesn’t react as he leaves the room and instead continues to frantically scribble on the various notes. “I will find you, Natalia”, she whispers. “I promise, I will find you.”
Stalingrad, Russia – 1988
“This is it!”
Anastasia cannot believe it. She stars at the map in front of her. News articles and notes are pinned to the table. A relatively big area on the map is circled in red.
“IVAN!”
Her husband comes running, stumbles over the doorstep and catches himself in the last possible second before he crashes to the floor.
“Are you alright?”
“I found her.”
An unsettling silence spreads throughout the living room until Anastasia feels like it is going to suffocate her.
“Ivan, I found our daughter.” She points at the red area on the map. “Natalia has been brought into one of those buildings. I am sure of it.”
“Stop.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, but Anastasia hears him clearly. She continues regardless.
“Ivan, we are so close!”
“Just like last time? When you sent the police on a wild goose chase, and they came up empty?”
Anger rises in Anastasia, and she slams her hand on the table: “That is not fair! That was before we knew that they brought her to another country, before- “
“This is madness!” The sharpness in his voice cuts into Anastasia’s heart like a knife. “Can’t you see that you are grasping at straws?”
“What else is there to do?”
She stares at the man she had married what feels like a lifetime ago. The hurt in his eyes makes her pause. Tears are streaming down his face, but he makes no effort to wipe them away.
“I can’t do this again, Anastasia. That… hope… it is too much for me. I can’t be let down again.”
She puts a hand on his cheek. His eyes are begging her to stop. His hand is shaking as he puts it against Anastasia’s.
“I promise you, I found her.”
He sobs and buries his face in her hand.
“I’ll call the police and they will find her. Ivan, they will find our daughter.”
Every cell in her body is telling Anastasia to run to the phone, to call the police as fast as possible. But she doesn’t move a muscle. She searched for her daughter for almost four years, she can give her husband a few more moments.
“I can’t.”
And before Anastasia can think of a way to stop him, Ivan is out the door. The tears blind her, but Anastasia stumbles back towards the table and picks up the landline on the way.
She memorized the emergency numbers of almost fifteen countries to be ready to call the authorities of whichever country her daughter had been taken to. It doesn’t take long for the belorussian operator to pick up.
“What is your emergency?”
“I just saw multiple men drag some young girls into a building.”
“Ma’am, where are you?”
“I don’t know exactly.” Anastasia describes the red area on the map to the operator as good as she can. After half a minute she is confident that the woman on the other end of the line knows which area of the city she is talking about.
“And what is your name?”
Anastasia hangs up without answering.
And then she waits.
She closes her eyes and buries her face in her hands. The tears come in waves, throwing her around like a drowning person in the ocean. But Anastasia doesn’t fight it. Soon enough the waves will vanish and the wild see inside her will finally get to rest.
She doesn’t know yet, that it will be tainted with blood.
The Red Room, Belarus
The knock on his door is strong and persistent.
“Come in.”
The widow enters quickly, closing the door behind her.
“We have a code black”, she says without preamble. “Our contact in the belorussian emergency services just alerted us that a caller claims to have seen multiple men drag little girls into a building in our close vicinity. But the woman wasn’t in the area at all. She called from Russia.”
General Dreykov puts down his pen and leans back in the big chair that seems to swallow his small but muscular figure. His suit is perfectly tailored and if one were to see him on the street, they would think him a banker. Or some kind of businessman.
No one would suspect that his dark red tie might as well have been died with blood.
“Anastasia Alianovna.” It isn’t a question. He had suspected this day would come.
The widow nods: “We suspect so, Sir.”
“How did we not know how close she is until now?” There is an edge to his voice that makes the seasoned widow shudder. She straightens up just a tiny bit more and crosses her arms behind her back.
“We didn’t expect her to be this resourceful.”
“Send whoever is closest to her location. Bring an end to this.”
“Yes, Sir!”
The young woman turns to leave, but just as her hand touches the cold copper doorknob, Dreykov calls after her: “Melina!”
The dark-haired woman turns. “Yes, General.”
“Her girl. What was her name?”
“Natalia Alianovna Romanova, Sir.”
Dreykov nods slowly. “How old is she?”
Melina frowns: “Four years old. But I doubt she is ready to- “
“I want her brought here. As soon as possible.”
There are many things Melina wants to say. That this would be too cruel, even for Dreykov. That the girl would break before she could be built up again. That no four-year-old could withstand the training.
Whatever they had done to her at the other facility, it is nothing compared to the pain she would inevitably experience here.
But she bites her tongue and nods obediently: “Of course, Sir. Anything else?”
The General simply shakes his head. Melina doesn’t wait any longer. She leaves the office and silently closes the door behind her.
A four-year-old. Either the General is going insane- no. Melina shakes her head as she rushes down countless hallways. She can’t even think this. The General knows what he is doing. And that means that this four-year-old girl is special. Really special.
The truth is, as Melina calls the widow that has her hideout closest to Anastasia Alianovna’s position, she has no idea that she is setting gears in motion that will one day reshape her own life.
Stalingrad, Russia
The phone still hasn’t rung. Anastasia tries to focus on her breathing, tries to calm herself enough to not pace aimlessly through the room.
It takes time for the police to search through all the buildings in the area. And she will be damned if she can’t wait a few minutes longer to hear from her daughter.
“We are coming for you, Natalia”, she whispers. “Hold on a little longer.”
Had she looked up at this moment, she might have seen the shadow creeping through her small garden. She might have assumed it was Ivan, returning from the walk that had cleared his head. She might have opened the door for him, only to realize that it was not her husband in front of her.
She would have screamed as the knife sliced through her, slashing blood all over the doorstep.
But she doesn’t look up.
And so, the last thing Anastasia Alianovna sees before a hand grabs her and her throat is cut, is the mental image of her baby daughter cradled in her arms.
When Ivan reenters the house, an apology on his lips and the car keys clutched in his hand, ready to drive to wherever the police has brought their daughter, he finds his wife lying on the floor in her own blood. The widow is long gone, as are the notes Anastasia had so fearlessly collected on her quest to find her daughter.
And as Ivan cradles her lifeless body in his arms, he knows that she had found Natalia.
“You’ll die for that”, Ivan screams, pressing his wife’s body against his. “I’ll kill you all!”
But when the police arrive half an hour later, Ivan doesn’t tell them about his daughter or her disappearance. He doesn’t talk about the years of research his wife had conducted. He doesn’t tell them anything.
After all, he was only one man and what could he possibly do against an organization like this? An organization ready to kill whoever gets too close? Much stronger people will be necessary to take down the Red Room.
What Ivan doesn’t know yet, and will never know, is that his daughter, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, will be one of them.