by Raven Scott
“I feel awful. I’m scared.” I covered my face in mortification, as I curled up between the sink and the toilet. My mind stuttered to a complete halt and the soft rustle of clothes hurt my ears.
A large, warm hand settled on my crown.
My breath hitched and my chest tightened as I peeked out from between my fingers.
Kneeling in front of me was a man I didn’t recognize and my eyes widened in surprise. He smiled sympathetically with warm, bright, brown eye, and my heart leaped into my throat. “Huh?” I flushed at how stupid I sounded.
The man’s smile widened before he sat back to lean against the wall of the shower.
“W-why are you in the bathroom?”
“Why are you throwing up?”
My lips parted in surprise when he countered my question with his own.
He arched a brow quizzically at me. “It sounded violent. I was worried.”
“O-oh. Yeah—I-I messed up.” I ducked my head against my knees in shame. “I made a hasty decision, and—I regret it.”
“That does tend to happen sometimes, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a question.
I hummed softly as I reached to wipe my eyes. Inhaling a rattling, shallow breath, my palms were clammy as I clutched at my chest. Goosebumps blanketed my arms as I tensed when the man sat on the floor only inches from me. Curling my toes, I held my breath.
He shuffled to sit against the shower door and prop his arm on his knee. “If it helps, I have also made many decisions that I regret. It’s something I’m well-acquainted with.”
For the first time, I realized the man was vaguely familiar and I blinked hard to clear my bleary vision.
The ink wrapping up his bare arms and creeping up his neck became sharper, and he tilted his head back to stare down his nose at me. “You don’t recognize me, Yelene?”
Tentatively shaking my head, my brows drew together.
He smiled a little. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but it is a little saddening.”
I held my breath, my heart leaping into my throat as my brain worked furiously to connect the dots. “I-Igra?” Disbelief softened my tone and my mouth dried.
He nodded, humor flickering in his bright, brown eyes.
I sucked in a wheeze of a breath as I scrunched up my nose and leaned over my knees. “You look—different.”
“I take that as a compliment, thank you. You’re very much the same as the last time we saw each other. If I remember correctly, you were so nervous you threw up, then, too. You don’t do well with stress, so it was a shock when Ophelia told me you volunteered to help us.”
Flames licked up my neck and threatened to melt my cheeks as memories raced behind my eyes.
Igra chuffed a small laugh.
Mortification flooded my veins when I realized he was right. I did get queasy the last time I couldn’t avoid meeting him. No wonder I didn’t recognize him. I don’t think I’ve ever looked him directly in the face before. “So, what do you think? Of me helping?” I clicked my teeth at my own question.
Igra hummed softly in acknowledgment.
Worry gnawed at my gut and I scratched my head curiously. “I should’ve said no. I am not a violent person—so…”
“Do you know anything about what we’re planning?”
Shaking my head again, I rested my chin on my knees to listen closely.
“You’re not going to have to do anything violent, Yelene, I promise. That’s my prevue. All you have to do…is listen, look, and be mindful to tell me everything. You can do that, right? Easy enough.”
“Yeah, I can. I have to go to Aleksander in Saint Petersburg?”
Igra shook his head, his expression drenching in seriousness and thoughtfulness.
“Then, what am I listening for?”
“We didn’t think you’d say yes, or more accurately, Ophelia didn’t think you’d say yes, so we didn’t plan for anything for you specifically. So, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together. I need you to catch things I might miss.”
Relief slumped my shoulders and I flopped my head back to breathe a huge sigh.
Igra chuckled lightly. “I’m not going to sacrifice you to kill my brother. There are plenty of other people more suited for that role.”
My cheeks warmed when he smiled at me. “Good, okay. Yeah. I like that. Did you learn anything in America? What’s it like?”
For a moment, Igra was quiet before he stood up and held out his hand for me. No bare skin showed on his knuckles or the backs of his hands.
Warmth slithered up my arm when I took his palm. “Thank you.”
“—you’re smaller than I remember.” Igra held my palm to his and curled his fingers completely over mine to prove his point. “Are you hungry? Would you like to take a trip to the kitchen with me?” His smile was nice and warm, and
“It won’t make my fingers grow, but okay.” I took my hand back to hide behind my back. Memories played against my eyelids of the last time Igra and I met. I’d been so nervous and I hadn’t dared open my mouth at all. We were stuck at some party in Saint Petersburg, and Aleksander had forced me to go.
How did I manage never to be alone with Igra despite being married to him? Does signing a paper really constitute a marriage? Because Aleksander had decided my parents needed less freedom, he’d forced me to marry Igra on paper. When I was little, I didn’t imagine signing my life away to a man, I’d never met before.
“Do you ever feel cheated out of a wedding?” Igra suddenly asked.
At this question, my brows rose in surprise.
Igra paused to turn to me with interest blazing in his eyes. “I know a girl like you had dreams about your wedding day.”
“Um, a little.” Foolishness heated my cheeks, and I gulped down the dense lump in my throat.
Igra cast me a quizzical look.
“It wasn’t the wedding—it was the person. Being forced to marry you was disappointing. I was sixteen. I don’t blame you, Igra. I just—missed stuff. Important stuff.”
“You took the marriage seriously?” Igra’s voice rippled with shock.
I scrunched up my nose with a slight nod.
“Why? It’s not real. It’s just a piece of paper, Yelene.”
“—it’s an excuse.” I lowered my voice while shuffling a little closer to Igra. “Aleksander rules with fear. You of all people know that. He forced my parents to put Malda back together when she should’ve died. Their objection was enough to make him force me to marry you, so he could threaten them. If I ignored it, he’d have a reason to kill me whenever my parents breathed wrong.”
Alarm flashed in his eyes as he spoke, “I think you’re giving your parents’ importance too much weight, Yelene. When was the last time you saw them in person?”
Puffing out my lips thoughtfully, I frowned as dread crept up on me.
Igra reached to cup my cheeks with both his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Have you really gone this long because Aleksander was holding your parents hostage?”
I held my breath as he stepped close. “They’re my parents. Yeah. Why wouldn’t I keep them safe?” I could tell Igra didn’t understand why I suffered for my parents, and I took his hands off me to shake my head. “Don’t you want to keep people you love safe?”
“I’m plotting to kill my own brother.”
That’s not what I asked. My thought clashed with Igra’s bland tone and I frowned as he stepped away from me.
Thoughtfulness invaded the whites of his eyes and he stroked his chin over his own frown. “How can you consolidate the notion that you’re captive to keep them safe when they would happily die to set you free?”
“I’m not unhappy. Things have never been unbearable. If they ever were, I’d rather die with my parents.”
Igra threw back his head and laughed.
The sound bounced off the walls, hurting my ears as it intensified over and over. Flinching back, an ugly resentment spread across me, and my frown morphed into something even uglier. My eyes
stung at the genuine bemusement in his tone, as if I’d told in a hilarious joke, and hurt stabbed my heart. “Y-you wouldn’t understand anyway.” Crossing my arms over my chest, my voice wobbled, “You’ve never been happy, let alone been happy with someone.”
The hallway suddenly became quiet. Tension zinged through me when Igra looked my way, his eyes narrowing into tight slits. All humor drained from his face, and my heart rampaged against my ribs.
For a long second that slipped by on pins and needles, Igra just stared at me icily. “Yes, you do have a point, Yelene. I am not happy, and no one else has ever given me great happiness. Love and happiness are not things my name allows me to have. I’m sorry for upsetting you.”
I shook my head again.
Igra reached to nudge my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I was assuming you of all people understand that there’s not much happiness in my family.”
Electricity skittered down my neck, and I clenched my jaw as sourness spread along my tongue. “I feel bad for you, Igra,” the words just slipped out of my mouth.
His expression tightened as he thumbed my chin. “I feel bad for me, too, Yelene. Wallowing in self-pity isn’t the way I do things. So, onto the kitchen with you. Are you feeling better now?”
Nodding lightly, I bit my bottom lip.
Satisfaction brightened Igra’s eyes. “Good. I just arrived, so lead the way. Ophelia’s house is very nice, but there are a lot of rooms. After being in America, Russian homes seem very…roomy.”
I pursed my lips at this, unable to get rid of the sour taste in my mouth. Tightening my arms around myself, I huffed softly as the atmosphere settled heavily on my shoulders.
3
Igra
“Do you like America?” Yelene shot me a cautious, curious look.
Leaning against the counter, I crossed my arms at the question. Every time I looked at her, thought of her, I remembered why I chose her. She was like a young deer that threatened to collapse during the first frost but just barely managed the strength to stand. “No. I really hated it, to be honest. I love Russia. Why do you think I’m trying to kill my brother to save it?” In America, everything was fast. Decisions were made on the fly, people were trampled for personal gain, and Carlyle—Carlyle Santino was never more terrifying than on his home base.
Shoveling a pastry into her mouth, Yelene arched a thin brow in interest.
I reached to rub my jaw thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t go back and I doubt Carlyle Santino would allow it. Maybe, I will send him a congratulatory gift when Aleksander dies, though.”
“A few days after you left, there was a riot in Saratov. They’re creeping closer to Moscow.” I nodded quietly, my lips twisting in disgust of what had become of my country. “You came back because the protest outside Saint Basil’s, right?”
“Yes, I did. Aleksander will use the civil unrest to forward his political agenda, and I can’t allow him to succeed. If you think he’s bad now, imagine him as Vice Prime Minister or Minister of the Interior.”
Her big, brown eyes widened.
I inhaled sharply before shaking my head. “No. I haven’t spent all these years trying to regulate Aleksander just to fail. He made it obvious in his meetings with Carlyle Santino that he thought he was untouchable, but he’s wrong.”
“If Carlyle is so powerful, why does he not send someone to kill Aleksander? Why didn’t he kill Aleksander during his stay in America?”
I shrugged; I’d been wondering the same, since Carlyle apparently took an instant dislike to Aleksander. There was absolutely no way to know what that American was thinking, and it’d be fruitless to try to guess.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked.
“Do you really want to know?” Yelene didn’t surprise me when she shook her head, and I walked over to the small table to sit across from her. My chest tightened at the way she leaned away from me automatically. “Are you afraid of me, Yelene?”
“No?”
I struggled not to frown at her genuine curiosity. Did Yelene not realize how skittish she came across as? Was it just who she was— a scared, tiny girl who always had a monster breathing down her neck? For people like her, I’m going to kill Aleksander. He’s a looming shadow across every life in this country, and he destroys people for fun.
For those tiny, ordinary people who only wanted to live and be happy, while my brother stepped on them to sit on his throne. “What do you think of killing Aleksander?”
My question caught Yelene off guard, and she scrunched up her nose thoughtfully.
She is so damned cute.
“I think replacing horrible dictators with horrible dictators isn’t going to solve anything. Even the person that replaces him is susceptible to corruption.”
Now, that was an interesting take on the situation. I cocked my head.
She went on, “It’s strange how someone so powerful floods the life of every normal person to the point that we can’t even be. Living in fear of opening your door one day to find a passing remark got reported and your whole family being killed or punished for the rest of their lives—Aleksander holds every life in Russia in his palm and it doesn’t matter to people like me if it’s his or someone else’s. It’s still a palm capable of crushing us with no effort or thought or consequence.”
“True.” I nodded. “It’s better to take out all the problems rather than just the biggest one, but that’s far too much for us to handle. We’re too small to really mount a proper coup, so we’re going to have to be strategic. Information is always the key. We need to know everything about Aleksander, and he needs to know nothing about us.” Pointing at Yelene, I arched a brow quizzically. “There’s only so much I can hear and so many places I can be. That’s where you come in. You’re going to accompany me as another set of eyes and ears.”
Yelene shot me a cautious, curious look as she froze. “I-I should’ve said no.” She picked at her pastry as she hid her blush behind luscious, thick, brown hair. “I don’t know why I agreed. Killing Aleksander—it’s the right thing to do, and even if it’s a small part, I can take pride in being involved. Right? I-ss that right?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her faltering tone. “Killing for the right reason makes it justified, not right. I’m not sure whoever replaces Aleksander will be better, but I can guarantee they won’t be as stable or hard to topple.”
Sinking into her chair, Yelene nibbled the edge of her pastry and gazed at me from under thick lashes. She really was beautiful in a dainty, cat-like kind of way.
“I appreciate that you want to make the world a better place. You’re a sweetheart.”
She didn’t reply, simply continuing to nibble her cream-filled pastry.
I sat back to stretch my legs under the table. The past few months in America flashed behind my eyes when I blinked. The only person I would miss was Vanessa; she was also the only person, I felt, that didn’t play hard and try to lead me in circles.
I hated living in America, and some days were definitely worse than others. A few times, I had just considered coming back on my own and letting Aleksander do as he wished with me. Dying was better than being fucking stuck in that horrid place. New York City—Goosebumps blanketed my arms and rose the thick hairs on my neck at the very notion of that city. “I’m glad to be back.”
My murmur earned me a wide glance from her as Yelene paused her chewing.
I arched a brow at her. “America is not that great. I’d take my Russia over America.”
“There you are, Igra.” Ophelia breezed into the kitchen, and she downright grinned. “Aleksander is coming here next week to meet with me. Right on schedule.”
Expectation flooded my veins. “Good. That’ll give us time to get to Saint Petersburg. After what happened to your family, I intend to go after him where he feels safest. Trying to confront Aleksander from a distance isn’t going to work.”
Ophelia sat between Yelene and I.
I watched the petite woman just check out of t
he conversation mentally. Pursing my lips thinly, I turned my attention squarely on Ophelia, and we shared a look. Yelene is not going to be reliable. She’d get information, sure, but knowing whether or not it was important would have to be up to others. Which was fine. Yelene wasn’t capable of being so disingenuous. But really, we can’t count on her.
And clearly, Ophelia wasn’t bothered by that notion at all because she didn’t think Yelene would say ‘yes’ anyway. “I’ve been considering taking him out here.”
My brows furrowed in irritation.
Ophelia held up a hand to stop my protest before it even formed. “This is our chance, Igra. Aleksander will be in my house— there’s absolutely no doubt of where he’ll be, or if he’ll have security. He won’t expect me to take a stand in my own home.”
“Ophelia, we didn’t want to do it here because it’d increase the risk of retribution by Aleksander’s loyalists.” Ophelia was only alive for one reason— Aleksander needed her to smooth over his deals with Carlyle Santino. My brother was incapable of feeling or faking anything needed to deal with a man like Carlyle. There was no humility, no ability to compromise, not even a glimmer of gracious appreciation.
And Carlyle hated Aleksander with a fiery passion that shadowed over every deal they possibly could make.
“I’m willing to take that risk, Igra.” Ophelia nodded her head at me. “Sascha and I have talked about it, and we both agree that this is the easiest, safest way to get rid of Aleksander. Either way, my life is still on the line. As soon as Aleksander anchors himself in Brighton Beach in America, he won’t need me anymore.”
Covering my mouth to hide my frown, sourness coated my tongue.
Ophelia shot me a pointed look. “If it fails, we’re all going to die anyway, Igra. The longer you’re here, the higher the chance Aleksander finds out, and I’m already in his crosshairs. If he finds out I’m harboring you, let alone trying to kill him, he’ll grab me again, but this time—I won’t be lucky enough to escape him.”
“I’m aware of your fragile situation, Ophelia…” I rubbed my neck as my mind whirred furiously. Ophelia had nothing to lose at this point, I knew, but changing the plan so late was not going to bode well. Sighing heavily, I only nodded curtly; if Ophelia thought this was our best chest, I wasn’t going to object further. “If that’s what you think is best, we can do it. What’s the new plan?”