by Raven Scott
“I assume you find comfort in knowing they deserve what they’re getting simply because they’d have to be beyond idiotic to try it. I’m sure it’s even worse knowing they didn’t even graze my father.”
“… It’s got nothing to do with what they deserve. My dad plotted to kill your dad and wasn’t even close to being successful. What’s common law for attempted murder? Retaliation. So… no. It’s not worse. I don’t find comfort in how idiotic my parents and brother are. I’m just— just sad. Sad, I’m involved because I was born a Cherinivsky. Ophelia Matheson sounds better than Ophelia Cherinivsky.” It hurt to talk, to think— to move— to be, and my cheek twitched as a sigh escaped me. Disgust tinged my voice.
Aleksander frowned at me ‒ not that the curiosity in his eyes diminished in the slightest.
My knees wobbled dangerously as I made my way across the vast expanse of my father’s home. “If you’re going to do it— do it right, so you don’t have to suffer the consequences.”
“Confidence breeds foolishness. Obviously, you’re the black sheep in personality just like your name. That’s another curiosity I find interesting enough to keep you around. Your parents named you ‘Ophelia’, but they hate your boyfriend for his dual citizenship of which the primary isn’t Russia.” Aleksander opened the door to the dining room for me. “You’re definitely more interesting than your brother.”
I glanced up at him. “Martin’s name is just as not Russian as mine. Go stick your arm up his ass rather than making me find someone that can open his mouth just right.” Beyond the dining room was the back garden, and goosebumps washed my arms and across my abdomen. “For someone streamlining, you’re pretty convoluted.”
“See… even more interesting. You just insulted me, and I don’t feel any urge at all…”
Tensing as Aleksander pressed the cold barrel of a gun to the back of my head, I gulped harshly.
He smirked faintly, like he enjoyed my reaction, even as he touched my cheek. “Don’t make me wait forever.”
“You won’t have much of a forever if you don’t put that gun away.”
The feminine voice hit me like lightning.
Aleksander’s face froze. His eyes tore off me into the dining room to narrow into slits.
“We have four more of these circus acts to get through, Aleksander, and you aren’t going to shoot her, so hurry up.”
“I have an image to maintain, sokrovishche,” he replied.
“The last time you shoved a gun in a girl’s face, she ended up having sex with you every other night. Let’s hurry this up. You have exactly 7 more people to shove guns in their faces, and none of them are women.”
My brows in surprise at how annoyed the woman sounded.
She gestured in impatience.
Aleksander sighed in defeat before shouldering his way past me.
The door slid closed against my back, a foreboding click echoing in my ears. “W-wait, wait—“ Holding up my palms as her bright, brown eyes met mine, I pointed between them. “He shoved a gun in your face, and—you find that attractive?”
“Yeah? You don’t think it’s attractive when your boyfriend gets all bossy?”
Blinking hard, I could only nod stupidly at the ‘duh’ tone of her questions.
“If you didn’t, all that snot earlier wasn’t worth it.” She turned and strutted off.
I gulped harshly at the amused smirk and slight shrug Aleksander shot me before following her.
Who was worse…?
3
Sascha
“Oppie?” I called out. Leaning on the door frame, I pursed my lips thinly. My knuckles tingled as they rapped the door, but nothing but silence met me. “Ophelia, baby… open the door if you’re in there.”
But she wasn’t in there; the mail piling up in her box was a sure sign Ophelia hadn’t been home in at least three days. The ringing in my ears died down some only to echo with her phone call less than 8 hours ago. She has to go, now…
That was a code phrase for ‘My parents did something terrible, and now something terrible is going to happen to me’. Frankly, it was much more concise. If her parents had done something extraordinarily awful, Ophelia wouldn’t come to her flat.
“Still, I had to try.” Closing my eyes tight, I drummed the wood with my fingertips as I let that phone call stream behind my mind’s eye. All I could do was think, and the helplessness I felt was maddening. Whatever her parents did had backlashed too fast for Ophelia to get ahead of it. Whoever her parents pissed off had let her make that phone call to me, though. If that person intended to kill them all, the phone call wouldn’t be necessary.
“I know that, though.” My brows furrowed at the rasp of my own mumble. Of course, it had been the first thing that popped into my head. Even after Ophelia had gotten off the phone, the call remained on the line. That was where all the information was.
Chances were, I hadn’t met the person who spoke in the background, which meant it could be any handful of degenerates. Worse case scenario, it was a Makovich; those bastards were not known for dragging it out, though. Three days was a long time to spend on one family.
“Worst worse case… it’s Aleksander Makovich.” Goosebumps washed my skin under my button down, and I ground my teeth. I wasn’t blind; I’d seen the man on the news, even giving one of a number of guest seminars at University. The guy was a rockstar politician, essentially. He was just personable enough to captivate the masses so they didn’t see what was going on behind the scenes.
What happened on the other side of the curtain was the key. If this man was involved somehow, Ophelia and I would never get ahead. She worked for him, essentially ‒ she would be a familial lieutenant in an all consuming lifestyle. Despite keeping her distance from her family, she was very much involved in the shadow Aleksander cast.
Ophelia’s parents might be bigoted idiots, but she wasn’t.
“Oh— Oppie…” Crouching down to run my hands through my hair, my lip curled in an ugly frown. My ribs threatened to concave, crowding my heart as it beat in overdrive. There was never anything I could’ve done in this situation but knowing it and being crushed under it were not the same. “Shit.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?”
My head snapped up, the world spinning until I managed to focus on the woman leaning casually against the wall. Ophelia’s nosy neighbor.
“She just up and flew out of here a few days ago, and hasn’t been back. I thought for sure you’d know where Ophelia went, but…”
“I don’t need you to fish for information to color your otherwise bland, boring life, Susan.” To be honest, I didn’t actually know her name, but ‘Susan’ was a proper fit if the internet was anything to go by.
She scowled lightly but didn’t move, only crossing her arms over her very unimpressive bust.
“What do you know?” I asked reluctantly.
“Just that about 20 minutes after Ophelia ran out, a couple guys came lookin’ for her. They said something happened to her parents… that they needed her because they weren’t expected to make it.”
Cursing hoarsely, I pushed myself up to storm past the woman and down the narrow steps. Ophelia’s apartment was in a nice part of Moscow, not far from the University. I knew the area like the back of my hand.
But I was about to enter unchartered territory because I’d never actually been to Ophelia’s parents’ house. They lived on the Moskva right at the end of the F6 subway line, with lots of privacy and lots of woods. Glancing at my watch, I winced at the time and covered my mouth to hide my grimace.
Scuffing my heel against the cobblestone sidewalk, I fished my cell phone out of my pocket to redial the number Ophelia had used. This time, there was no raging debate—no care who was on the other end. For hours, I’d foregone using the only direct option of communication. My hand trembled as I held the speaker to my ear, the ringing overly loud as my heart nearly stopped in anticipation.
“I was wondering when you’d get around to
calling back.”
The amused lilt and deep baritone sent a hard shiver down my spine. Clenching my jaw hard, I held my breath as fire engulfed my chest and crept up my neck.
“Are you wondering if Ophelia is still alive?”
“Aleksander Makovich.” My mouth dried up, my tongue sticking the roof as dread punched my gut. “Ophelia’s innocent of whatever her parents did. Let her go.”
“I’m very aware that she had nothing to do with the assassination attempt on the Patriarch, Sascha Matheson.”
A harsh bark of laughter, thick with disbelief, burst from my throat, and I slapped my clammy palm over my mouth.
“Ophelia is fine. If you’re at her apartment, she should be arriving soon. Let’s have a chat. Don’t forget, you can decline to answer, but I’d discourage you from hanging up.”
What kind of unparalleled stupidity did Ophelia’s parents have to have to mess with Aleksander Makovich? To try to kill someone and fail was bad enough in itself, but to try to kill Vyachaslav Makovich… it was insanity.
“… According to what I understand of her situation, Ophelia’s parents and elder brother were just dragging her down. I do not inflict unjustified punishments on people, and it’s obvious that Ophelia didn’t know about the plot to kill my father.”
My eyelids fluttered closed, and I squeezed my jaw from the tension zinging through me. Aleksander Makovich was not a man I ever wanted to meet in person.
He went on, “I took that into account. You know her well, don’t you? What are her feelings on promotions?”
“What? Ophelia’s a fixer, she mops up her parents’ and brother’s messes. If it wasn’t for her, you’d had to have taken care of the Cherinivsky’s years ago. The only reason the operation out of Ukraine runs smoothly is because of her.” Blurting out the defense.
Aleksander laughed a deep, hearty sound. “So, you do know more than you’re supposed to…”
I blinked hard as anxiety buzzed against my cheekbones.
Aleksander tsked in disapproval. “That’s good for me, bad for you, of course. Tell me, Sascha… How valuable do you think Ophelia is to me? From your perspective, why should I allow her the freedom she has?”
Sitting on the concrete support that edged Ophelia’s apartment complex, I inhaled a deep breath. The stale air in my lungs dried my mouth, but I ignored it to focus on Aleksander’s probing. My heart still beat furiously, straining, and I cast my gaze to the sky to exhale loudly. “I doubt she’s irreplaceable, but she’s above average. Finding someone to replace her will mean training, waiting around ‒ dealing with silly, little, avoidable mistakes. Ophelia isn’t ambitious ‒ you definitely won’t find someone with less, at least.” I paused to lick my dry lips, scraping my brain for any tiny tidbit of something that Ophelia mentioned even in passing. “Zelchevks supposedly has a crush on her.”
Aleksander paused then said, “… That was not what I expected you to say at all, Sascha. You truly are boring, aren’t you?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I scratched my jaw roughly.
Aleksander sighed if he was disappointed with my answer. “I thought for sure you’d try to get Ophelia out from under my radar. Telling me the Prime Minister of Ukraine has a crush on her is not the way to go about it.”
“Trying that would only make you more interested. It’s not like I can offer myself or something in exchange. I’m just a university professor.” Running my fingers through my beard and over my chin, I lowered my eyes to scan the streets. “There’s no point in trying to lie about Ophelia’s capabilities. I’m sure you already know what you need to know, and you’re only asking me to see if I’d lie.”
“Lying is a bit of a harsh term, isn’t it?” His tone still sounded amused. “Regardless, you’re right. Ophelia is used to mopping up her parents’ messes…operating on the assumption that she’d be reactive, not proactive. Well, now that her parents and brother are gone, you’ll have no problem being the doting, understanding boyfriend that helps her transition, yes?”
Alarm bells rang in my head at this, but I didn’t have a chance to open my mouth. A small two door pulled up in front of the building, a nondescript baby blue. Hanging up on Aleksander, I rushed over as Ophelia climbed out of the passenger seat and slammed the door behind her.
Wrapping her up in my arms, my cold body burned from how hot Ophelia was. Her shivering reverberated off my ribs, squeezing my lungs until they were completely empty. Burying my face in her thick, mahogany hair, I squeezed her tightly. Clammy palms gripped my sides, but all I did was hold her while the car peeled off the curb and into traffic.
Ophelia’s tears stained my thin, dark grey button down, seeping through the fabric to curl my chest hairs. Cupping the back of her head, I savored the feel of her ‒ the smell of her shampoo ‒ the sensation of my shirt tightening from her grip.
“… C-can we go to your p-place?” she asked in a stammering voice.
Grumbling lowly in acknowledgment, I exhaled a heavy breath to clear some of the anxiety that’d settled on my shoulders. Still, though, Ophelia didn’t move, and I surely did not intend to rush her.
4
Ophelia
My mom’s hatred for me brightened by her tears, her glare hot enough to melt steel.
Discomfort gnawed deep into my gut, and I held my shaking hands behind my back. In her eyes, I saw how hurt she was by my betrayal; I could almost hear her cursing me behind the white circle around her tightly pursed lips.
“You’re choosing that nasty dog over your own family! You bitch! You’re no daughter of mine!” Even in this moment before she died, my mother somehow found a way to hate Sascha.
Sadness gripped my chest, but it wasn’t as bad as when I’d called him.
By my side, Aleksander cocked his head. “What does that have to do with you attempting to assassinate my father? How does Ophelia’s boyfriend fit into this in your fucked up head?”
My mom’s eyes had widened in fear.
Those two questions were ones I asked myself often— not in this context, though. Anything that happened, good or bad, my mother found somehow to blame Sascha. I was happy? Well, Sascha made my family look bad. I had a sniffle? Sascha must’ve gotten me sick. It made no sense, compounded by the silence engulfing the garden.
“Is it because she lives and you die?” Aleksander raised a brow at her. “Even then, the boyfriend has nothing to do with it. Why wouldn’t Ophelia do whatever she needed to do to save her own life? Do you honestly think wanting to live is a betrayal? As far as I’m concerned, you betrayed your children when you decided to kill yourself.” Sauntering over to my mom, Aleksander grabbed her chin to pull an ugly squawk from her.
She shivered violently, her hands tied with zips behind her back. Screaming was useless; we lived too far away from anyone because my parents prized their privacy.
The irony was lost to me in this moment, though.
“Even if you did kill my father, you wouldn’t have killed me. The only way this was going to end was you, dead, orphaning your children and giving me the opportunity to lord over your precious, precious girl. I can do anything to her. I can give her to Demitr, as you carelessly handed me her life without any hesitation. That’s betrayal. Turning your back on your children, and now… you’re leaving all your daughters under my heel.”
Jerking up, a shuddering gasp ballooned my lungs with cold air. Holding my eye as it threatened to pop from the sharp ache behind it, I panted viciously. The ringing in my ears slowly died down, and a shiver lodged between my shoulders as I pulled my knee up to prop my forehead.
“Oppie…”
Sascha’s voice, roughened from a troubled sleep, smoothed the goosebumps blanketing my skin. Glancing over as his warm, smooth palm glided up my back, I couldn’t hide my grimace.
“Are you hungry? When was the last time you ate?” he asked.
“I don’t remember. I should eat, yeah.” Relief flooded my body, and I sunk down to cuddle against his chest. Sascha�
�s familiar smell clung to my nostrils. The feel of his body warmed the cold sweat on mine. Twirling his chest hairs around my finger, I closed my eyes to summon the energy to open my mouth. “My mom’s last words to me was how much she hated you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Of course, I wanted to talk about it; I just couldn’t find the words to use.
Scratching my head lovingly, Sascha was so patient. He didn’t wait on bated breath or grow tense even as the silence grew heavy and thick.
“My mom and dad bought into the Avernisk’s power play. That in itself is stupid enough to make me think I’m not even their daughter. How can something so incredibly, obviously stupid and risky to me be a viable plan to them? Aleksander Makovich would’ve still been alive— he still would’ve been in control. This would’ve ended the same… thinking of any other alternative is a delusion.” Licking my lips heavily, my frown deepened. “I don’t know what to feel. Maybe, it’ll clear up in a few days when it really hits me.”
Sascha grumbled in acknowledgment, “You’re a rational person, Ophelia. Any rational person would’ve known that plan wasn’t going to work. Power corrupts people, kills people. I’m sure that you just got all the good genes your parents lacked.” Fingertips smoothed by a life of pens caressed my cheek and neck, and Sascha pressed his chin against my forehead. “I’m not so fragile a man that I’ll be upset you’re more successful than me.”
“He’s sending me a handler when he gets back to Saint Petersburg.” My tongue tingled with the need to speak what I feared to bring up; Aleksander’s ultimatum was a lose-lose for me. Either I did what Aleksander commanded, or I gave the Cherinivsky to someone who would. Simple and effective. And disgusting. “Both my sisters are going to Saint Petersburg, too. I’m not going to be able to sit back anymore.”
“Your sisters are spoiled babies. Your brother was a tool. Ophelia, how much do you honestly think your day to day is going to change from this moment on? I’ll still be right by your side. You may trade cleaning up the mess to avoiding the mess in the first place, but… I honestly don’t think much will change.”