by Bonny Capps
I yank my arm away and turn on my heel, feeling him behind me as I make my way to our bedroom.
The drive to the ballet is silent. Words that I want to say so badly sit on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve said and done enough tonight. My daughter is at the dacha with a man who will not think twice before ripping her apart, piece by piece.
Of all the things Dimitri has done, hurting my little girl will always top the list. I cannot stand his absolute disregard for our daughter. It angers me as much as it saddens me.
As for Vadim, I know, and I’ve known for a long time, that he’d die at the hands of Dimitri.
My feelings about that are confusing at best. While I became fond of Vadim, nothing changes the fact that he took me away. He is the reason that my life changed drastically, and I wish for nothing more than to have never went to skate on the pond that fateful night. I wish that he would have never seen me.
I was a thing to him, a product. That’s it. He would have treated me no different if Dimitri hadn’t decided to take me. His attempt to “save” me was for his own selfish reasons. I know of the plane tickets and the forfeited passports. He never intended on letting me go home. That betrayal alone was enough for me to reassess my feelings towards him.
For the most part, I removed him from my mind. I’ve had to, because shielding my heart from more pain is a necessity to survive.
This is real life. There isn’t any falling for the villains. There isn’t any changing them. Dimitri will never change, and neither will Vadim. They are both deceitful, calculated.
The Vavilov blood is ice cold, and I refuse to allow Eva to become like the rest of this family.
My eyes grow wide when I see the reporters standing outside the entrance of the Bolshoi Theatre. This place is magnificent; the name, fitting. “Bolshoi” means “grand,” and this place lives up to its name. Eight pillars extend to the facade, and a beautiful statue of a man standing in a chariot leading four horses sits atop it.
“Remember our discussion, Sofia. Smile when they take your picture. Answer their questions accordingly. It’s time that we lay all of this to rest once and for all.”
My eyes snap to his. “They’re here to see us?”
Dimitri nods, and I’m realizing how much I banged up his face. Good. He deserved it. “You, mostly.”
My eyes travel out the window once more, squinting at the flashing lights. This could be my only chance, but I can’t risk Eva’s life. I know Dimitri meant what he said.
The driver opens Dimitri’s door first before running to mine and opening it for me. He grasps my hand and helps me step out into the sea of cameras and reporters.
“Sofia! Tell us, are you happy in Russia?” One reporter shouts over the others before shoving a mic in my face.
“Yes, very happy.”
“Did Dimitri Vavilov force your hand in marriage?”
I shake my head; my false smile never falters when I respond. “Of course not. I love my husband very much.”
“Is it true that you have a daughter? How old is she?”
“It is true. Eva is nearly eight months old.”
Dimitri wraps an arm around my waist, and begins leading me around the large fountain to the front of the building. I overhear a reporter speaking to a camera.
“Dimitri Vavilov yavlyayetsya naslednikom Vavpro. Gazovyy gigant byl osnovan yego ottsom, Albert Vavilov, i byl vynesen Dimitri posle smerti svoyego ottsa pochti god nazad.”
Dimitri Vavilov is the heir of Vavpro. The gas giant was founded by his father, Albert Vavilov, and was handed down to Dimitri after his father's death nearly a year ago.
I frown and look over my shoulder, her voice fading the closer that we get to the entrance. A gas giant? I’ve known corporate leaders could be sketchy and corrupt, but this corrupt? It’s even more sickening that he does what he does because he is obviously not hurting for money.
He continues to lead the way, and I watch him seem like a normal person. Smiling, shaking hands, kissing the cheeks of women, and introducing me as “his beautiful, talented wife.” Outside of the dacha, he isn’t the man that I know. He’s charming and polite. He’s everything that I’ve dreamed my prince charming to be when I was a little girl.
Several people ask about my skating career, and it hurts to lie. It hurts to pretend that I’m passionate and excited, because I once was. It’s all that I ever cared about in the past. It is still something that I care about. It’s just not paramount in my life anymore. How can I love what I do when I’m forced to do it? I always had the option before to either quit or to never give up. My drive kept me going.
The interior of the Bolshoi Theatre is even more stunning than the exterior, if that’s even possible. It’s extravagantly decorated with gold, leafy designs and stucco arabesques. The boxes are lined with crimson drapes.
It’s incredible.
Dimitri grasps my hands and leads me up to the presidential box. He greets several others and introduces me.
Once everyone settles in their seats, the theatre begins to quiet. Leaning towards Dimitri, I whisper, “I would never have guessed that you’re a fan of the ballet.”
Looking towards me from the corner of his eye, his lips are a thin line. He’s epically pissed with me, and my statement was smug at best. I’m pissed at him, too. Beyond pissed after how he treated Eva earlier.
“My mother used to take me when I was small. She would say, “It does a man good to witness beauty and grace in such raw form.”
I scoff. “Certainly did well for you, didn’t it?”
He shakes his head. “You are very lucky that we’re in this theatre and not at home. I still have a bone to pick with you.”
“Yeah? I’m sure. After you dropped our daughter and all.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, and my blood boils when he lets out a chuckle.
Silence follows, but then he leans towards me. “Mama said that the Russian ballet is unlike any other. She was a connoisseur of sorts, and traveled to many countries to attend ballets. Long ago, the directors of the companies were appointed by the tsars. The dancers were practically servants. In fact, there was an infamous affair between the prima ballerina assoluta, Mathilda-Marie Feliksovna Kschessinskaya and the future tsar, Nicholas the second.”
I nod, my eyes remaining fixated on the golden curtain of the stage. “That’s a mouthful. What happened to them?”
Dimitri shrugs. “She went on to marry his cousin, a duke, and he went on to become a martyr.”
“Interesting,” I murmur, sounding completely unenthused. I’m not sure if he’s trying to impress me with his knowledge of the ballet, or if he’s just being the arrogant asshole that he is. Either way, I want nothing to do with him.
“I didn’t hurt our daughter,” he snaps, and I glare at him.
“You’ve starved her, and then you dropped her. You show her absolutely no love. You disregard her completely. For a man that despised his father so much, I’d think that you would attempt to be a decent father.”
He places his hand on my knee, and I wince when he digs his fingers into my flesh. “Do not speak of something that you know nothing about.”
Grasping his wrist, I attempt to pull his hand away, but he isn’t budging. “You are so fucked when we go home,” he rasps before finally releasing my leg, and I attempt to soothe the pain by rubbing my flushed skin.
The curtain opens slowly, and music begins before a beautiful brunette ballerina prances across the stage. My heart sinks as I watch her gracefully perform, recognizing the look of pure bliss that I once had so, so long ago.
The ballet is beautiful, and the tears that sit in my eyes are a direct result of the incredible performance. I become so enamored that I accidently drop my clutch, and Dimitri leans down to pick it up. Something whizzes past my face, and Dimitri begins shouting profanities. Looking towards him, I see blood streaming down the side of his face before soaking his collar red.
I look around me, and see that the performan
ce has stopped—every member of the audience stands and looks towards us. The couple that accompanied us in the presidential box rushes to Dimitri’s side, attempting to stop the blood.
I’m frozen watching all of it happen, wondering what it was that breezed past me and took a chunk from his ear.
It could’ve only been one thing: a bullet. Someone was either attempting to kill me … or him. One person, and one person only comes to mind.
Vadim.
“You missed?” I seethe, clutching the phone so tightly that the screen cracks down the middle.
“I had the perfect shot, but he moved abruptly. We can try again.”
“Try again?” I exclaim, pacing back and forth in the spare bedroom. “You cannot try again! That was our one and only chance. No he knows that someone was gunning for him, and he knows that it was likely me.”
I hit “end” on the call before tossing my phone on the bed and burying my face in my hands. That was my only chance to take over the bratva … my only chance to finally end Dimitri and to take his wife as my own.
I watched the news, I saw the charade. I saw her, and dammit she was more beautiful than the first day I laid eyes on her.
A knock sounds from the door, and I turn to see Alexei. “You’re back.”
He nods. “I’ve been back. I haven’t been feeling well.”
“You took Alina to St. Petersburg once you left the Vavilov dacha?”
He nods again. “I did.”
Sighing, I walk to the window before tucking my hands in my pockets.
“I need to have a word with you, but not here. I’d like to find another way to get Sofia out. Dimitri… he treated her terribly. You are the only one that I trust has her best interest at heart.”
I turn to face him, my eyebrows high on my forehead. “You think we could get her out? How?”
He looks leans out of the door and looks up and down the hall before his eyes find mine once more. “Meet me behind the old bar downtown. You know the one, right?”
I nod. “Da.”
Running his hand through his hair, he turns. “I will see you at midnight. Do not tell a soul.”
I hold the cloth against Dimitri’s ear as we make our way back to the dacha.
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” he growls, and his eyes swell with unadulterated rage.
“Who do you think it was?” I whisper, putting more pressure on his ear.
Snatching the cloth from me, he holds it over his wound himself. “Who do I think it was? Vadim obviously.”
I nod. “You don’t think it was the Prime Minister?”
Dimitri shakes his head. “No. I happen to know that he’s out of town. I’ve been keeping tabs on him since the stunt he pulled the other night.” His phone rings, and he reaches into his pocket to retrieve it. “Yes?”
I watch his lips curl up into an evil grin, and a chill shoots down my spine because I know exactly what he’s smiling about.
I cannot calm my beating heart as I wait behind the ran down bar on the sketchy side of town. There is never going to be a way that I can justify setting Vadim up like this. Like what happened with Sofia, it will be something that I can only wish to burn from my mind.
I do not like Vadim. I never have, but I also do not think anyone deserves to die at Dimitri’s hands.
I watch as the car pulls up, and Vadim steps out. Dimitri and his men wait in the shadows, but of course he doesn’t know that.
“So,” he says, walking towards me. “I’m here.”
I smile, but I’m sure that it doesn’t meet my eyes, and he can tell. “Alexei?”
Dimitri comes walking out of the shadows, and I watch Vadim’s shoulders square with the echo of every footstep.
Vadim shakes his head as he looks at me incredulously. All that I can do is tuck my hands in my pockets as my gaze falls to the filthy cement below our feet.
“Cousin,” Dimitri says.
Vadim turns to face him and laughs. “I guess there is no escaping this time, eh?”
Dimitri shakes his head. “Did you ever think that I would give up searching for you after what you did?”
“No. I didn’t think you would ever give up, Dimitri. I knew that I would have to face you, however, I was hoping that the circumstances would have been better.”
Dimitri gestures to the men who have accompanied him as they emerge from the shadow the building casts. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”
Vadim nods, and when he turns to face me, I believe that he will guilt trip me some more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls out a gun, and the last thing that I hear is a bang.
All I can hear is the dripping that I have come to know well during my time here. When I would mindlessly drag the innocent from their cages, and lead them straight into the devil’s clutches.
Below the floors of the Vavilov dacha can only be described as hell on earth. Perhaps this is karma having her way with me. After everything that I’ve done, I’m afraid that I deserve no less. I am to go out with dignity. I will never beg for my life.
If death is to be, it will come.
The door opens, but I cannot see. My eyelids are swollen along with the rest of my face. They’ve come for me. It’s my time to go.
Only, it isn’t them. It’s her. I would know her scent anywhere. I could smell it a mile away. “Vadim,” she murmurs.
I attempt to speak, but the words only come out as nonsensical mumbles at first, but them my words begin to form. “S-Sofia,” I rasp, attempting to lift my head, but I am far too weak to do so.
“Water,” she mutters, and with that I hear the faucet turn before my cracked lips are soothed with the cold water.
It becomes easier to speak. “No more, no more,” I mutter, and she takes the water away before I hear the faucet squeak close. “I need to tell you, I need to tell you.” It’s the only thing I can muster. I do not want to be the one to give her this news, but she must know. Otherwise, she will continue to live a lie.
“Tell me what?” She asks, her tone completely lacking of emotion.
I shake my head. “I know no other way—”
“Cousin!” Dimitri exclaims sardonically. “Tonight will be a special night just for you! I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned!”
My head falls and my chin hits my chest.
I am too weak to entertain him. Death might be bitter, but it is also sweet. To finally end a pathetic life such as my own without the guilt of ending it myself. That will be another burden for Dimitri when he has to answer to our maker, and one less burden for me.
“Bratya!” Dimitri says as he lifts his arms. “Today is a day where justice is served for this bratva. Vadim not only risked this business that has been in our family for decades, but he also betrayed me, his flesh and blood. We do not turn on our own! We are a brotherhood! Vadim is charged with allowing our enemy to infiltrate my home. For removing my wife, solely for his own selfish reasons. Sleeping with her knowing that she was a married woman—to the Pakhan of your bratva, no less. He put his dick inside of something that is mine. He tried to kill me!”
Vadim kneels on the ground as Dimitri walks around him, pouring vodka over his head and laughing mockingly. Vadim does nothing. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t say a word as Dimitri continues. “So, brothers, I ask you—is he a traitor that deserves to go up in flames?”
I wrap my arms around my shoulders as the men go wild around me. Hooting and hollering for Vadim’s death. Wanting nothing more than to see bloodshed and carnage, simply in the name of this sick brotherhood. Flesh and bone means nothing to my husband, otherwise, he would not be doing this. This is simply not how the world works outside of this place.
And I wish that I felt more. I wish that I could hurt for him. I wish that I actually wanted to save him … but I don’t. One morning … one morning we shared something. Though, as time went on, that something disappeared with everything that I felt for the man who i
nitially captured me, and bought me to this hell.
I watch as Andrei and Vlad lower a tire around Vadim’s shoulders before dousing it with gasoline. The moon and stars are bright tonight as we witness this horrific act.
“Do you have any last words to say, cousin?” Dimitri asks, and Vadim nods.
I watch him struggle to lift his head, and the tears that I thought were nonexistent in this moment surface. I am still human, and regardless of everything this man has done, nobody deserves this.
Then, I remember all of the moments that we spent together at the library, or how he taught me mostly everything that I’ve come to know about Russia. How he used to call me krasavaya, or when I’d catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye. I allowed those things to be a bandage, and without them, I wouldn’t have survived at first. But that’s just what those moments were, a band-aid to cover up all of the horrible things that he did to me.
“Sofia,” he chokes out, and I look into those black eyes that I know so well. The eyes that can be hard and cruel, or sweet and understanding. Right now, there is only one way to describe them.
Sad.
“Your mother did not write that letter,” he mutters, and at first, I’m not sure if I hear him right. Taking a step forward, I tilt my head. “What did you just say?”
“It was your father who wrote that letter. It was your father who had her killed. None of this was an accident, Sofia. The only thing that was accidental, was that I got to you before they did.”
I feel sick. My world is spinning. His screams are heard once the tire is ignited, and all I can smell is burnt hair, and what I’m assuming is his flesh as the fire eats away at him.
Mom. Didn’t write the letter. Father did. Betrayal. They were coming to get me. Who? Who was coming for me?
I back away slowly as the thoughts race through my mind. I’m going to pass out, I know it. It’s either from the smell, or from what Vadim said. He’s lying. He has to be. She wrote that letter because she wanted me to see where my family is from. She wanted me to experience my roots.