Cruel Compassion: A dystopian thriller with a hint of romance (Insurrection Series Book 1)

by A. E. King

“Yes, of course you do. I’d call him right now. But unfortunately, this closet was never connected to the Peredacha.” He gives me a meaningful look. “Don’t worry, the Verkhovney Gosudar will meet with you as soon as we return home.”

  The door opens, and the younger guard returns with a chair. He avoids looking at me. “Thank you, Luka,” Dimitri says.

  I glare at the young guard. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Luka. I’ll be sure to tell my father about you,” I threaten, and he hurries out of the room.

  Dimitri sets the chair across from me, leans back, and crosses his leg over his knee. “Try not to scare the guards. They’re only doing their job.” He seems amused by my threats.

  “Besides, we have other things to discuss,” Dimitri continues. “Your father is confident we can clear up this misunderstanding.” His dark eyes intently drill into my pale blue ones.

  “My father will do no such thing,” I growl at him. “There was no misunderstanding. You were selling children!”

  “Tsk tsk.” He shakes his head. “Those were orphanage transfers. Some of those kids were being sent to more suitable homes in different parts of the country. And after seeing the state of these facilities, I’m sure you can agree that there has been grave neglect here.”

  I stare at him for a moment, unable to comprehend these bald-faced lies mixed with his subtle signals. We spent years communicating like this—glances across rooms, wordless signals, secret meetings. I’ve known him long enough to understand he’s trying to tell me something, but this day has been too much. And I have no desire to play his games.

  “I know what I saw. Those men had children lined up like cattle being sent to market.”

  “They had to inspect them for disease and lice.” His eyes bore into mine, challenging me to disagree.

  “Take me home now!” I yell at him. “I don’t have another minute to waste on you and your pathetic attempts at excuses. You, Luka, Kostya, and all the others will be in jail by tonight.”

  A spark lights in his eyes. Does my threat excite him?

  “Of course, darling. It’s time to go anyway since now we have to squeeze in the meeting with your father before the ball.” His unabashed treachery enrages me. “Let’s just remove these bonds and hope that you don’t try to bite my hand off.”

  He moves behind me and leans close to my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck lift as he whispers, “If you don’t believe it from me, don’t buy it from him.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask him quietly. He leans in closer, his lips against my ear.

  “Because you can’t fight what you can’t see. And we need you in this fight.” He barely breathes the words before releasing me from the ropes and zip ties.

  Dimitri offers a hand, lifting me to my feet. I roll my shoulders and wrists to shake out the stiffness. His gaze is intent, hungry. But as much as I can tell he wants my trust, I can’t give it to him.

  “How many children did you sell today?” I ask in a whisper.

  His eyes crease in a flash of concern that disappears as fast as it came. “Two hundred.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “I know,” he concedes.

  Chapter 5

  Located on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Petergof Palace was built as a summer home for the czars and later became a national museum. I now call it home, my father having reclaimed it as a safe haven.

  Every detail is handcrafted and ornate. But after years of confinement inside these walls, I no longer see the palace. I see a prison.

  This prison comes complete with a tyrannical warden: my father, Vladimir Bituskaya. Head of Novaya Russiya’s Council and self-appointed Verkhovney Gosudar, he’s one of the most powerful and feared men in the world. I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting the art of avoiding him, but today it can’t be helped.

  The sharp click of my heels echoes across the empty marble halls, mixing with the low thud of Dimitri’s steps. The sound highlights the icy silence between us and might as well be a funeral dirge.

  I approach the heavy doors of my father’s office. The hand-carved wood reminds me of a coffin. I can’t help but remember the last time I was here. Nine years ago, my father sat Dima and me on his sofa, delivered the news that my older brother Sasha had been assassinated, then promptly left the room to attend his next meeting.

  We know better than to knock. The hall is filled with cameras. My father knows we’re here, yet he makes us wait.

  I use the time to prepare for whichever of my father’s personalities I will meet, as each possibility requires a specifically curated response. After a few minutes, the door handle turns, and my breath catches as I brace myself.

  To my surprise, my father opens the door himself, wearing a sympathetic smile. I’d almost prefer he were angry. He’s only kind when he wants something.

  “Darling.” He opens his arms and draws me in for a hug, rubbing my back. I fight the urge to flinch and keep the embrace brief, so he doesn’t feel me tensing involuntarily at his touch. It feels like hugging a corpse, there’s no real warmth behind it.

  “I need your help, Papa. May we speak privately?”

  He places his arm around me and leads me into his office, leaving Dimitri in the hall.

  “Please, sit,” my father says, motioning to the sofa in front of his desk. The same sofa where he told me about Sasha’s murder nine years ago and my mother’s murder before that. Half my family was ripped out of my life while I sat on that couch.

  I choose a nearby chair instead. My father takes his seat in the chair next to mine.

  “You poor thing, having to witness such suffering.” He pats my leg and frowns at me with eyes so wide his concern seems believable. “Dimitri told me all about it. I’m ashamed to hear we have such neglect going on in an orphanage we support.” He shakes his head sadly.

  “I’m afraid it’s much more severe than that. Dimitri is running a child-trafficking ring. Several arrests need to be made. Pull the recordings from the Peredacha, find the perpetrators, and I’ll testify against them tonight. My eyewitness testimony combined with the evidence will ensure convictions.” I clasp my hands together to conceal their trembling.

  “Oh dear, is that what you thought?” He laughs as though we’ve uncovered the source of an embarrassing miscommunication. “No, darling. Those men run private orphanages out in the countryside. We have so many orphans in the larger cities that we can’t keep all the children here. You saw the mothers today, lining up, waiting to deposit their unwanted offspring at the first opportunity. We simply can’t keep up with the demand, no matter how many new wings you manage to build.”

  Dimitri must have fed this story to my father to drive discord between us. My father didn’t see what I saw. He doesn’t know what’s happening. I swallow down the panic rising in my throat and attempt to convince him. “I heard one of the men say, ‘I’ve paid millions for this shipment, and I’ll shoot anyone who gets in my way.’ Papa, I know what I saw.”

  “Well, they did pay millions. You don’t think we would send the children to a facility that cannot provide for them? They have to put funds in holding to show they can adequately care for the children,” he says, still smiling. “But no one was going to kill anyone. People just get overly passionate when children are involved.”

  “He had a gun pointed at my head.” My voice rises with each instance I have to defend myself. “They were selling children!”

  My control is slipping. I’m close to tears, close to screams, close to outright insubordination. “Are you telling me that you won’t do anything about this?”

  “Darling, I’m incredibly concerned about the neglect.” His voice drips with sincerity. Like honey covering a dagger. “I plan to replace the headmistress immediately.”

  “But the crimes . . .” My control slips, and I raise my voice at him. He cuts me off. His glare warns me not to push farther.

  “The neglect was unfortunate and nothing more. I feel horrible that today went so poorly a
nd that after all your hard work you had to witness the effects of lazy, careless, lower ranked citizens.” He pats me on the cheek. “I’ll speak to the new headmistress. We’ll work on a better protocol for deposit days and transfers. Those poor children were probably scared to death.”

  His voice is calm, but the vein throbbing in his temple betrays him. “If you’d like, you could even draft up the plan for how transfers should go. You’re a gifted organizer and so good with the children. I’m confident that if we work together, we can solve this problem.” He ends his speech with a smile that makes the blood rush to my head and causes the room to spin.

  The words are far too familiar. The same words I heard earlier, only this time they’re delivered with a desire to convince. Last time they were spoken with the intent to prepare. And thanks to Dimitri, I’m not buying any of it.

  Every last thread of confidence I had in my father and our government snaps. He knows everything and still allows it to happen. Why? How can it possibly benefit him?

  I had anticipated my father would be merely ignorant like me, at worst neglectful. His involvement robs me of every certainty. What other atrocities is my father responsible for?

  “Darling, this has all been too much for you. You look positively beaten down.” His smile is triumphant and smug. “Why don’t you rest for a bit before the party. It’s an important night.”

  The audacity is shocking and the timing perverse. On the day they’re trafficking children, he holds a state dinner to combat the mounting international pressure for Novaya Russiya, to take a stronger stand against poverty and addiction.

  All this time, I thought I was standing for something. It turns out I was standing in front of something, just blocking the view and drawing attention away. I have been unknowingly complicit, and that will change starting now.

  Because I cannot sit here and pretend like he does. I stand as tall and straight as I can and look him directly in the eye. I am filled with a boldness I’ve waited my entire life to find. “I’m not going to sit at some party, next to that villain who is supposed to be my fiancé, when there are children on their way to a life in hell!”

  His face hardens. All traces of sympathy vanish.

  The room sways around me, but I refuse to bend with it. So this is what they have planned for my life? I create pretty distractions while they commit ugly crimes?

  “I won’t be a part of it. I won’t marry Dimitri.”

  My father stands and wraps his hand around my arm like a vise grip. His face is mere inches from mine. I cannot remember ever being this close to him.

  “Tonight, you will go to the ball and make it a success. And soon, you will marry Dimitri.”

  His hair has thinned, and so has he. His skin has a greyish tinge. Despite the ravages of time, he still looks terrifying.

  I think back to what I saw today. The children I have spent years providing for and protecting, victimized by my fiancé and father. I stand up to my full height, square my shoulders, and look him directly in the eye. “I won’t marry a criminal.”

  “The Council voted on your union, and you agreed to it. You held a press conference and announced it to the entire world. Now you want to back out and disobey a direct order? That sounds an awful lot like treason, Yulia. You know what we do to traitors.”

  I do. Execution in Red Square outside the Kremlin.

  My father has been fanatical about loyalty ever since a senior aide attempted to assassinate him at a party but missed and killed my beloved mother. The aide was part of the Myatezhniki, a rebellion that my father deemed a terrorist group. Red Square filled with blood once more as they gathered and executed the rebels for months afterward until there were none left.

  My father flashes a cruel smile, and finally I can see through the mask to the monster below.

  He has had me pinned for a month. He crafted an insurance policy through a vote I thought was a mere formality. Now I understand, I can marry Dimitri or die a traitor’s death.

  “We didn’t agree,” I stammer. “Dimitri refused to vote. I tried to tell you I didn’t…”

  “Dimitri didn’t vote against it.”

  Of course he didn’t. Every single vote on the Council is unanimous. The boldest form of dissent allowed is recusal.

  “You consented. I didn’t stand in front of the press and declare my love for Dimitri. That was you. And to go back on it now . . . Well, that would make you look weak. There’s a price to pay for weakness. So let me ask you a question, Yulia. Are you disobeying a direct order from the Council?” He steps toward me, and I take a step back.

  The threat hangs over me, a suspended trap poised for the slightest misstep to trigger it. I hold very still. I cannot even hint at the wrong answer.

  He’s so close I can smell the peppermint on his breath. I take another step back, and he moves closer until the sofa bumps up against my legs and there is nowhere for me to go. I shut my eyes and try to stop my lip from trembling.

  My life is unraveling. A month ago, all I wanted was more time away from the cameras and events. And now I’m choosing between death and cooperating in something deeply wrong that I don’t even fully understand.

  “Sit down!” He snaps at me and pushes me onto the sofa. He stomps to the door. “Get in here!” he shouts. Dimitri enters and leans against the wall as though this is an ordinary conversation.

  “We have a serious problem,” My father tells him. “Yulia is feeling insubordinate. She’s decided she doesn’t want to marry you after all. How did you let this happen?” he accuses Dimitri.

  The blood freezes in my veins, and I suppress a shiver. How many inches separate feeling and being? I want to be miles away from the traitor’s firing line. But I fear I’m inching closer and closer with every word I speak. And I don’t know how to navigate my way back.

  “That’s not news. She never wanted to marry me in the first place.” Dimitri shrugs as if this is unimportant and a waste of his time.

  “Tonight of all nights, my daughter is disobeying a direct order from the Council.”

  “Of course, she’s not.” Dimitri rolls his eyes. “This is Yulia we’re talking about. She’s overly emotional, but when has she ever been anything but pliable?”

  Pliable. It sounds like a dirty word coming from him. I open my mouth to argue, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, warning me to stay silent.

  Dimitri continues. “She’s had a terrible shock today. Just as I did when I saw the state of affairs in the orphanage. I’m certain we can come to an agreement that will satisfy everyone.”

  I glare at him. The only agreement that will satisfy me involves both of them being led from the supreme court in handcuffs. It feels like an impossibility, but I won’t be satisfied until I hear the people cheering over their removal.

  “Yulia needs some motivation.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck, and I freeze. That was our signal. A sign that he was going to leave the room, and I was supposed to follow. Is he telling me to follow his lead?

  “Take a moment and think,” Dimitri tells me. I watch him with an intensity matched only by his eyes on me. “What would it take for us to walk out of this room with you on my side? How can you feel more secure about the safety of the children?”

  He’s clearing an escape route for me. I would be a fool not to take it, even if I still don’t trust his intentions.

  He claims he wants me in this fight. Let him prove it.

  My father glares at him, visibly annoyed, but says nothing.

  Dimitri continues to look at me, and I try to read any hidden conversations in his eyes. I get nothing. He’s still, waiting.

  If my father is truly involved in this nightmare, then the problem runs well beyond the orphanage. It’s not something I can solve on my own. I take a deep breath, fighting to see beyond my emotion.

  If I’m tried for treason, I won’t survive it. And if these crimes run as deep as I suspect, the entire country needs my help. I can’t appear disloyal. I mu
st tread carefully.

  I wish I’d had more years to observe my mother’s artful mastery at navigating my father’s moods. She read them expertly, diffused his wrath, and on occasion swayed his opinion. How did she do it?

  He will give me nothing if I’m weak. He will give me nothing if I’m defiant. But if I can show him that I’m strong yet unthreatening, I may find an opportunity.

  I turn to my father with what I hope is enough honesty to conceal my internal treason. “I want what’s best for our country. The pressure from the international community is mounting. If anyone found out about this, the trade sanctions alone would devastate our already tenuous economy. We can’t afford neglect like this.” I emphasize his own words. Showing him that I’m willing to align myself with his story. His vein becomes slightly less pronounced.

  I summon every ounce of courage I can find and make my demand. “The orphanage falls under the humanitarian branch of the government. I’m the head of that branch. I will oversee the hiring of new staff and daily operations. No one stays. That’s how you can keep me pliable.”

  He frowns, considering.

  “And I want to oversee the finances,” I add, immediately regretting it. I’ve asked too much, and can already see him getting ready to deny my request. After all, if I control the money I will be able to uncover the full story behind what I witnessed today. They’ll effectively be put out of business. “I must ensure this neglect doesn’t happen again. You want my compassion? Give me the control I need to succeed. If any of the nenoozhny knew what was going on behind those walls, there would be rioting in the streets.” I know he fears the people. I see it in his eyes anytime he encounters the nenoozhny. It’s one of the reasons he pushed them out of the city centers.

  “You’re not even in control of your own spending money. A woman can’t control the finances,” he says with finality.

  “But I can,” Dimitri offers. “We can accomplish both of your objectives. First, we make tonight a success. Then tomorrow I’ll help Yulia. Together we’ll get the place cleaned up.”