Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  Lifting my head a little, I peeked up at Sascha.

  He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I can’t tell you how to do that, though. That’s up to you. What do you not want out of life? From your career? From your relationships? Asking yourself those questions can help you discover things you didn’t even realize you wanted.”

  “Who am I anymore? Somewhere, in all this, I lost myself.”

  Sascha’s face flooded with sympathy as he put his hand on my shoulder comfortingly. “I’ve seen so many kids in similar predicaments, Yelene and I mean this as gently as I can, but ‘yourself’ is ever changing. You can’t lose yourself; you can only change. Sometimes, it’s for the better. Sometimes, for worse. But you are who you are at your core and you’re closest to yourself. No one can take you away from yourself, and that includes Aleksander.” He spoke surely, “As long as you’re alive, you’re yourself.”

  I straightened when Sascha squeezed my shoulder with a smile. “Yeah—thank you, Sascha.” Appreciation dribbled off my tongue and I left the bathroom to lean against the wall. Covering my face with my hands, I sucked in a shallow breath. My whole body hurt from sleeping on the tile and I frowned at the ugly feeling that spread across my chest. I’d reached a new low, passing out on the toilet.

  “Yelene, good morning.”

  Glancing over at the feminine call, I nodded mutely.

  Ophelia smiled at me. “You’re up early. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

  “Oh, um…yeah. I did. I was stressing a little too intensely, and…” Embarrassment stained my cheeks. “I don’t deal with stress well.”

  Ophelia didn’t show a glimmer of judgment or negativity. “That’s all right. Go back on to sleep and we’ll come get you for breakfast.”

  Shuffling down the hall, I rubbed my neck and shoulders as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I felt so tired and achy… fuzziness fogged my mind to stop me from overthinking about last night.

  Bitterness clawed at the back of my throat as I pushed open the door to my bedroom. I didn’t want to be a freeloader in someone else’s home, living off their charity. I didn’t want to borrow, beg and hope.

  But that was what Aleksander did. I wasn’t the only one he stole everything from. Clutching my chest, I scowled at a particularly long carpet fiber. The soles of my feet didn’t leave the carpet on my way to the bed. Pulling back the thick blanket, I climbed under to tuck my knees under my chin.

  “Yelene?”

  Frowning at the soft knock, I covered my head with the blanket.

  Igra poked his head into the room. “Were you in the bathroom all night?”

  “Y-yes.” I closed my eyes when the door shut, but Igra must’ve heard my whisper— or he didn’t care about an answer at all? Truly, it didn’t matter. I poked my head out from under the blanket as he walked over to sit on the edge of my bed. “Did Ophelia tell you?”

  “Yeah, she said you looked grumpy.” Igra swept back my hair from my cheek and forehead, his eyes sparkling with regret and something deeper and darker. “I didn’t sleep well, either. I hoped that we could talk…not about what happened, but I’m far from calm, knowing Aleksander is on his way here.”

  My heart leapt into my throat for a split second and I nodded dumbly before scooting backwards to make space for Igra.

  He laid down over the blanket, physically unable to touch me but to still be close. His eyes sparkled warmly.

  Expectation slithered through my veins to undermine my tiredness.

  “When Aleksander and I were young, before secondary, I think, we had an okay relationship. He was bossy, and I followed him around because it was easier than arguing. I guess, eventually, he thought I was just going to hang around in his shadow. That I would go along with anything he did just because it was easier than arguing. Once, he stroked a fight in primary in front of me, maybe expecting I’d jump in and help. When I didn’t, he ended up getting his ass kicked.” Smiling ruefully, Igra sucked in a sharp breath as memories flashed in his eyes. “He, in turn, tried to fight me because I didn’t back his foolishness up. It was the first time we fought physically. Normally, it was just a lot of yelling and posturing. My father was not impressed.”

  “What did he do?” The Patriarch ‒ Vyachaslav Makovich wasn’t the man he used to be, but if rumors were to be believed ‒ he was worse than Aleksander. Goosebumps blanketed my body at the thought of who could possibly be worse.

  Igra reached to caress my cheek with his thumb. “He’s not an impulsive or violent man, my father. I know that’s strange to say, but in a way, he resembles Carlyle Santino in how he ran things. Coldly. Calculatingly. Aleksander is very much the opposite, although he likes to pretend he’s not hotheaded. There were a few minutes between the yelling before Aleksander exploded where my father took me aside and told me I could not lose. If I did, Aleksander would eventually take things too far because my brother viewed me as weak. It’s scary having your father tell you your brother will, one day, get around to killing you—and he wasn’t wrong, apparently.”

  “Did you ever want to kill him?” My mouth dried at my own question, “How do you not resent him?”

  Igra only shrugged awkwardly, laying on his side. “Resentment requires me to have particularly strong feelings for Aleksander in the first place. I don’t. After that first fight, I began standing up for myself more and he despises me for it. I don’t bow to him or cater to his ego. He doesn’t strike fear into me, as I know he does with you and many others. As I’ve said before, I’m not surprised it’s come to this.” A small frown crested his mouth. “To be honest, I’ve known this was coming even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it.”

  My heart ached for him, and I covered his hand with mine. “I’m lucky I was always on the outside. I’ve never experienced death—I don’t know how I could handle it.” Licking my lips heavily, I cleared my throat as nerves tingled down my spine. “What—what does killing someone—feel like?”

  For a long moment, Igra simply stared at me.

  Discomfort gripped me in a vice. The seconds ticked by loudly, and I held my breath in anticipation.

  “Killing is a weight that’ll never ease off my shoulders. I don’t enjoy it, and I only do it if I have no choice. To be brutally honest, Yelene…I don’t think I’ve ever killed a person for any reason other than Aleksander ordered me to. What that may makes me, I don’t know.” His tone dipped in seriousness, but if he was sad, it didn’t show on his face. “This’ll be the first time I’m killing someone of my own volition.”

  Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I scrunched up my nose against the mix of emotions in my chest.

  11

  Igra

  Silently cursing myself for losing track of time with Yelene, I slipped into Ophelia’s office and nearly winced at the sharp glare she shot me.

  She flicked her wrist at me dismissively.

  I walked over to the small sofa against the wall to sit down heavily.

  Sascha was quietly leaning back on a bookcase.

  I took a stabilizing, shallow breath before casting him a cautious look. I had spent too much time talking through my anxiety with Yelene and lost track of time. Holding my chin in cold, clammy fingers, I closed my eyes in a futile attempt to calm my racing thoughts. In mere hours, I’d come face to face with Aleksander, and a sharp throb formed at my temple.

  Softly, Ophelia hung up the call she was on.

  I clasped my hands between my knees.

  Intelligent, brown eyes met mine as she stood up to lean against the side of her desk and cross her arms.

  The silence droned on, expectancy buzzing in my ears, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  She finally opened her mouth to speak, “Carlyle Santino has agreed to meet with me after Aleksander is dead to discuss pulling out of America.” Ophelia frowned under furrowed brows before flopping her head back to sigh heavily. “I like him. He’s not an idiot, at the very least. We bonded over our shared disgust for how Aleks
ander handled our trip to New York City.”

  Shock almost choked me, “He’s coming here? To Moscow?” Balking when Ophelia nodded, I blinked as alarm bells rang in my head. “Why does he want to have a face to face meeting? We had plenty of those when I was in America.”

  “Because, more than likely, I’m going to take over Makovich Industries. It’s been something heavily considered, as you know, Igra, but now we’re here. Your father will be here as well.”

  Irritation locked my jaw as my lip curled back.

  Ophelia speared me with her intense gaze. “Don’t look so betrayed. You must’ve known it would come to this, Igra.”

  “I would’ve liked not to have been blindsided and dragged through the coals, Ophelia.” My snap echoed around the office. I stood up as my heart raced and fury seared my veins. “When was this decided? You can’t just foist this on me, Ophelia. I’m taking all the risk, here! The least you could do is fucking tell me when the plan changes! Aleksander has it out for you, but I could’ve stayed in America and absolutely fucking abandoned you here! Your life is the one threatened, but I’m taking all the risk by coming back here!” By the end of my tangent, I was loud and panting, and a cold sweat broke out under my t-shirt.

  Ophelia just stared at me levelly.

  I started pacing just to release some tension. Every single instance of being kept in the dark about something that involved me or my cooperation flashed in my mind’s eye. Never once was it hinted that Carlyle Santino would be coming to Moscow, let alone having a meeting with Ophelia and my father. Pausing to scowl nastily at Ophelia, venom pooled under my tongue. “Kill him yourself.”

  This time, she was the one who looked shocked.

  My cheek twitched in aggravation as I spoke again, “You don’t get to decide to keep me in the dark about this and demand I play along. If you want him dead, do it yourself, you self-righteous hag.”

  “Igra—”

  A lilt of upset gyrated my ear drums and I held my hand up sharply to cut her off. “No, Ophelia. If you can’t do me the decency of telling me a plan that hinges on my cooperation has changed, you obviously don’t value what I bring to it. Aleksander is actively pushing Russia towards civil war, and you— you’re trying to play power games with me? You’re making slimy back room deals when telling me would do no harm to you at all? Did I not make myself clear enough when I told you that I wanted nothing to do with the power struggle that’d ensue? Did you not believe me? Do you not trust me enough to keep my fucking word?” Blasting her with questions that couldn’t accurately portray how fucking angry I was, I shook my head roughly. “No. The condition to my coming back was that you keep me informed. You didn’t keep your end of the bargain, and I’m no longer obligated to keep mine.”

  “This is Aleksander we’re—”

  “Then you shouldn’t have gone behind my back! That was all I wanted from you, Ophelia! What part of ‘I don’t care about your politics’ makes you think I want to be used as a pawn!” Throwing out my arms, I resisted the urge to pull my hair out as I paused my stiff strides. I pointed an accusatory finger at Ophelia. “Figure out what the fuck you’re going to do, because I’m not party to this deceit. You have a choice, Ophelia. Kill Aleksander yourself, or apologize to me for going behind my back when I specifically told you not to.”

  Now, her expression closed like a heavy book.

  Storming out of her office, I seethed from the fact that Ophelia thought to pull this shit— today! Of all days! I’d been here almost two weeks and she picked the very last second to purposefully limit my choice. She intentionally backed me into a corner, as if that wasn’t the exact thing I asked her not to do! The temerity!

  “Igra?

  Whirling around, goosebumps swept up my back like the sheets of snow outside.

  Yelene slumped on the door frame of her room.

  I clenched my jaw hard. “I guess—the office isn’t soundproof?” My eyelid twitched in irritation at the implications of that notion. “You heard it?”

  Yelene ducked her head in a nod.

  The anger swirling inside me was no match for her calm, almost detached, stare. “I apologize if I woke you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Guilt punched me square in the chest, but

  Yet, Yelene didn’t sound the least bit upset. No—she tentatively held out her hand.

  My fingers twitched and the twinge of anger curled in my gut dissipated before I closed the distance and took her hand. Her palm was so much smaller than mine, fragile, thin and dainty, but there was strength in the softness. Warmth slithered up my arm when she tugged gently, her brown eyes never leaving mine as she stepped back into her room. My heart beat hard but slower, now, than in Ophelia’s office. Sitting next to her on her bed, I closed my eyes and inhaled a breath laden thickly with a delicate, feminine scent.

  Yelene didn’t speak, simply held my hand, and rubbed the top of my palm with her thumbs. Patiently waiting until I was ready to talk, she let the silence stretch but not into awkwardness of discomfort.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I absently admired her loose, floral tank top. She wore tight jeans over a pair of pastel blue flats. Even then, I couldn’t stop thinking of the bullshit Ophelia had tried to pull, and I frowned before opening my mouth. “I don’t think Ophelia will apologize. The one thing I asked of her, that she be transparent with me—she couldn’t do that and planned this meeting with my father and Carlyle Santino behind my back. She intentionally put me between two rocks and intended to smash them together.” Betrayal roughened my tone, and I reached my free hand to rub my stubbled jaw roughly. “I don’t know what to do, now. Aleksander needs to be dealt with, but—I won’t do it because Ophelia asks. Even if she does apologize, I doubt it’ll be for why. I don’t care if it’s sincere, I just—I’m tired of being fucked around with like— like I’m a doll.”

  “Carlyle can, yes?” she asked. “If he’ll be here, and he’s truly scarier than Aleksander, it won’t be a problem.”

  Yes, it will. Politics—I was surrounded by people that played too much of the stuff. Was Ophelia even capable of not scheming? If not, it’d be easier to accept that she’s just been conditioned since childhood to conspire. “Carlyle would never. He doesn’t want to be involved with us in the first place, so I doubt he’ll take kindly to the fact that Ophelia knowingly derailed her own operation.” I wanted to throw myself onto the floor and scream like a child as frustration burned my eye sockets. “How dare she—how dare she—”

  “W-will—will you do it for me?” Hesitancy slowed her question.

  I glanced over in surprise as Yelene started turning bright pink. Hope blossomed in her eyes while she held my hand tighter, her hair rustling as she stiffened more as the seconds ticked by.

  My lips parted before realization clogged my throat. “I would, but not today.” What else was I supposed to say? No, fuck Ophelia, I’ll intentionally leave you in danger just to prove a point…?

  Yelene gave me a small smile as if she’d expected my reply.

  I reached to cup her cheek. “As much as I understand that Aleksander makes you nervous, you’re not actively in danger, and even worse—I want to prove to Ophelia that she can’t drag me around and lie then expect me to adhere.”

  “I understand. I do.” She inched closer to me, until her hip brushed mine, and rested her head on my shoulder.

  Butterflies fluttered in my rib cage and I started running my hand through her hair as I stared, unfocused, at the carpet.

  “I just worry about my parents,” she whispered. “They may be used to it, but Aleksander is always looming over them threateningly.”

  Shit. “I doubt my brother thinks about them as much as you, malen’kaya ptitsa.” A denseness engulfed my chest at my own mumble, and my heart twisted in regret. Lying about Yelene’s parents left a sour taste on my tongue, but what else could I say? They were dead, had been dead for years, and every email and assurance she’d received since had been a lie.
<
br />   Ophelia knew that Yelene’s parents had been killed after fixing Malda’s broken body. Hell, it seemed like everyone but Yelene knew her parents were bones by now.

  So—why couldn’t I simply tell her?

  12

  Yelene

  A cold sweat broke out on my back when the sound of hard footfall slipped under the door, and I lifted my head off Igra’s shoulder.

  He sighed heavily, threading his fingers through my hair one last time.

  I blinked hard to get rid of that pleasant, tingly feeling that slithered down my scalp into my face.

  “It’s time, malen’kaya ptitsa.” Murmuring softly, Igra buried his nose in my crown and took a stabilizing breath. “I do not expect you to go out there and play your part.”

  Heat wrapped around my spine and I hummed softly even as foreboding crept into my gut.

  I couldn’t answer before the door popped open and Ophelia entered without knocking. She looked upset and reluctant, her face pinched, eyes narrowed above a scowl. Barely entering the room fully, even hiding behind the door, she looked uncomfortable. “I apologize for going behind your back about Carlyle Santino and the Patriarch, and for being opaque about my plans.” She even sounded miffed, curt. “Please…will you allow me to beg you for forgiveness after we deal with Aleksander?”

  Igra untangled our fingers to stand up to his full height. “That’s good enough, I suppose.”

  Ophelia nodded sharply and disappeared, leaving the door open.

  Igra turned to me with a slight, shit-eating grin puffing out his cheeks. He positioned himself in front of me, towering, broad. My eyes widened when he leaned down to get close to my face. “Wish me luck. I’m going to need it, malen’kaya ptitsa.”

  The severity of the situation hit me hard; I’d never considered Igra might actually fail, and if he did—he’d die. My heart lurched and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He stumbled a bit, not expecting my hug, and braced himself on the edge of the mattress as my lips sloppily found his. Igra tensed, his breath hitching to clog my throat, and I kissed him desperately. His lips were soft, the slight stubble on his chin prickly, but faster than I could follow, he pinned me on my back. Our kiss morphed into something ravenous, and I clutched his t-shirt tightly as his tongue slipped into my mouth.