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

by A. E. King

  “How can I help?” I ask Gosha, not Dimitri.

  But Gosha is still not ready to forgive me for the unnecessary deaths. And he’s not the only one. I can’t even begin to exonerate myself.

  “Stay home,” Gosha growls.

  I deserve that. But I won’t be stuck in this safehouse when something so critical to the safety of my nation is happening.

  “You’re planning to destroy an entire organization with only two people. Another set of hands or eyes will be helpful,” I try.

  “Not yours.” Gosha gives me a hard glare. “If anyone found you there, it would be obvious what’s happening.”

  “If anyone finds Dimitri there, it will be just as obvious,” I shoot back.

  “Yulia should come,” Dimitri says quietly. “We’re taking out the top officials, but we won’t get everyone. Once this goes down, none of us will be safe. We’ll have to disappear as quickly as possible. There will be no time to come back and collect her or the old woman. They’ll both come.”

  Dimitri sent Zhenya to the market for supper, probably so she wouldn’t overhear this discussion.

  “Where am I supposed to stash them?” Gosha doesn’t hide his disgust.

  “Don’t stash me. Use me.” I try but fail to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Give me a job to do.”

  “If we could get her into your house, she could monitor the security. We’ll use wires on a closed channel to communicate. You know we need eyes and ears.” Dimitri looks at me for the first time.

  Then he adds, “But considering you tried to kill me this morning, how do we know we can trust you?”

  I’m infuriated that he would question my trustworthiness.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Gosha asks.

  “Welcome to hell,” Dimitri mumbles.

  It’s too much. I can’t sit in the room next to my brother’s murderer, listening to his smug voice as he plots another round of murders. I throw open the door, and Dimitri looks up from the table warily.

  “Who do you think you are?” I shout at him.

  “Calm down, Yulia.” He stands, probably so he can defend himself if I get the urge to strangle him again.

  “How dare you tell me to calm down? How dare you imply that I’m the one who can’t be trusted? You murdered my brother and desecrated his body, and now you’re going to stand there and tell me what I can and cannot do?”

  Gosha’s ghostly form looks between the two of us. “I’ll start programming.” He disconnects, anxious to be away from this.

  “How dare you make me love you when you knew the whole time what you had done and how it would destroy me?” I glare at him.

  Dimitri’s face falls. He doesn’t try to defend himself, which only makes me more frustrated. There’s nowhere for my anger to attach. It falls on a slippery surface.

  “You’re right. I was selfish and weak. I should have loved you in secret and let you keep despising me. I’m deeply sorry.”

  “Sorry about what part?” I refuse to accept his inadequate apologies. “Sorry that you sacrificed your best friend for power? Sorry that you manipulated me into trusting you? Or sorry that I found out?”

  “I’m sorry that I can’t be the man you deserve.” He has deep circles under his eyes. He looks pale and broken in a way I haven’t seen before. He’s not angry or proud or even controlled. Without his shell, he looks weak and disgusting. I can’t believe I ever loved him.

  I glare at him, trying to control my tongue. He killed my brother to get power. What will he do when he finds out he’s lost his power?

  “After we finish this job, I’m done with you.”

  He nods. I walk to the front door and open it, needing to be away from him. The guards outside block my path. I slam the door and return to my room, slamming that one as well.

  I pace the room, weighing my options. If I take my father’s offer, I could rule the country within the year. But not the way I want to. I would be a prisoner to the Organizatsaya. The thought of holding meetings and judging which crimes are worst makes me physically ill. The idea of channeling their dirty money into charities as a cover is horrendous. I can’t do it.

  Maybe I should have gone with the Myatezhniki. I gave up my chance, but for what? To protect a murderer. What’s the price of a second chance?

  Could I do something alone? Could I rally enough support to take on my father? The people would be with me. They’ve been neglected, despised, and oppressed for so long it wouldn’t take much to light the spark. They would suffer greatly for their rebellion. Thousands would die. And it would be at my request. How do you ask someone to trade their miserable life for the possibility of a better one?

  I see no answers. No clear indication of how to move forward. All I see is a long, dark corridor leading to a maze of anguish. And I only hope that freedom is on the other end. Not just for me, but for everyone.

  I’ve been selfish, focused on my freedom only, avoiding my wedding, and sacrificing innocent lives. And now I want to run away from ruling because I still crave my freedom. But until my people have their freedom, who am I to claim mine?

  What if Zhenya was right and my time is coming? I could let Gosha and Dima blow up the Dragovich family and then go back home. I could help my father establish the documentation to pass succession on to me, then poison him in his sleep. He deserves to suffer the slow and painful death of cancer. But every day he breathes, others suffer. Ending him quickly would be merciful to him and everyone around him.

  How fast could I do it? Put Dimitri in jail, put my father in the ground, and rally the people to rid their nation of this infestation?

  Maybe I don’t need my father, Dimitri, or the Myatezhniki. Maybe they need me.

  Chapter 43: Dragovich Compound, Omsk, Новая Россия

  I’m hot, sweaty, and much too close to Dimitri. Zhenya is the only barrier separating us as we hide in a container in the back of Gosha’s van. My urge for violence is still strong, and I suspect Dimitri knows it. He eyes me warily, keeping his hand on his gun at all times.

  The van is loaded floor to ceiling with crates full of equipment. The hope was that the security guards would get tired of searching before they found us.

  For once, hope was in our favor. The security team searched through half of the containers before they began grumbling about Gosha being a hoarder.

  The van slows to a stop, and Gosha begins unloading crate after crate. The process is excruciatingly slow. He finally makes his way to us, and when he lifts the lid on our container, I greedily fill my lungs with fresh air.

  Zhenya is shaky as I lift her to her feet. Dimitri offers his arm to help, and I glare at him until he clears his throat and exits the van.

  I step out of the van and slowly stretch my achy legs and back while scanning for cameras, blinking lights, or anything else that could get us killed.

  “The only cameras here are mine.” Gosha grumbles sounding almost offended.

  Gosha and Dimitri lift Zhenya and lower her to the ground. Every move seems to pain her, but she doesn’t complain.

  “Gosha’s blocks are the best in the world.” Dimitri avoids eye contact as he walks past me.

  “Davay.” Gosha nods, and we follow.

  He leads us through a door and into a narrow hallway. Dimitri carefully avoids brushing his skin against mine. Like a primal reflex I cannot control, I long for his touch for just an instant before my heart fills with bitterness. How miserably unfair that I must struggle to unwrite the law that Yulia must love Dimitri, even when he broke his end of the contract.

  We follow Gosha silently up a set of stairs and into another hall. He opens a door and ushers us into a room with wall-to-wall monitors.

  “Where are the servants?” Dimitri asks.

  “I haven’t been home in nearly a year. Not since the falling out. I only have one servant left. I gave him the night off.”

  “How secure are we?”

  “Not very,” Gosha admits. “The entire complex is
on high alert. The last time this many of my uncles and cousins were all here at once was my grandfather’s funeral. I’ve blocked all security feeds inside my home. But outside these walls, we’re all targets.”

  “Show me the layout,” Dimitri says. Zhenya moves to a sofa in the corner and pulls some knitting from her purse.

  Gosha brings up a map of the complex. “We’re here.” He points to a building at the southwest part of the complex then moves his finger to show us the significant locations. The meeting site, Kostya’s apartment, his father’s house, and the one-mile radius of the blast zone.

  I notice what looks like playground equipment inside the blast zone. “What’s this?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong.

  “A school.” Gosha’s voice cracks.

  Dimitri sets his jaw in place. “It won’t be a direct hit.”

  I turn to face the wall, and my father’s rationalization echoes in my head. You’re eradicating an entire generation of enemies.

  “There’s no justification for hurting children,” I choke out.

  Gosha looks away. “Dimitri, you’ll be here.” He points to a building across from the meeting spot. “It’s where my father houses his ‘mistresses.’ More like his prisoners. If you’re discovered, they’d probably help you.”

  “They’re also in the blast zone.” I can’t quiet my conscience. My head fills with women and children. I don’t want to be their executioner.

  “Remember what this is really about, Yulia. This weakens our enemies. It puts us one step closer to decency.” Dimitri is icy in his control.

  “Killing innocent people is not decency.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Dimitri snaps. “I can’t save everyone. Sometimes death is compassion.” We both know he’s talking about Sasha.

  “You only show compassion when it’s easy. As soon as it gets hard, you hide behind your warped code of ethics and call it strength. Compassion and strength aren’t separate; they’re one and the same. You have neither.”

  I raise my voice, and everyone hushes me.

  “This family,” Dimitri steps closer, growling at me like a wolf who has been caged too long, “sends thousands of children into slavery every year. They supply terrorists. They poison our streets with drugs. And they steal from everyone in every corner of the world. So yes, Yulia, there will be collateral damage. Innocent people die in wars.”

  “It’s wrong, and you know it!” I hiss.

  “Continue!” he barks at Gosha.

  “Yulia, you’ll be on surveillance. The facial recognition will tell you who has arrived. Check it against the list. Tell Dimitri when everyone is present. Dimitri, you’ll have a portable control. If all goes well, you’ll enter the code and then run. You’ll have ten minutes to get back here to safety.”

  “And if it doesn’t go well?” I ask.

  “Then I shoot as many people as possible before they kill me.” Dimitri grits his teeth.

  My heart sinks, heavy with dread, before I remind myself that his death and danger shouldn’t mean anything to me. My brain believes. But my heart needs convincing.

  “I’ll meet with Kostya. We’ll argue. I’ll shoot him, put his body in his car, and drive it here. The hit will be caught on security footage, and the arguments and chaos should give me just enough time to get back.”

  “Yulia, if something happens to Dimitri, you’ll be able to trigger the missile from here.” Gosha shows me the code to detonate the missile, and suddenly the pieces don’t fit together.

  “If the missile can be detonated from here, why does Dimitri need a code?” I ask. The two men share a look between each other.

  Dimitri gives me a stony look. “You’ve been a loose cannon. Your backup code only works if I give you permission. There’s no way for you to mess things up from here. But if we’ve already messed things up, then maybe you can help.”

  “You don’t trust me?” The idea is laughable.

  “I trust you to do what you think is right.” Dimitri’s knuckles are white as he tries to keep himself calm. “I don’t trust you to think that what we’re doing here is right. But it is.”

  “Killing women and children is not right, and you know it.”

  “You can’t save everyone.” His gaze is hard.

  Gosha interrupts our stalemate. “Here’s the list and pictures of the attendees. I’ve marked anyone who is already in the complex. The rest will begin arriving first thing in the morning. I’ll be downstairs, fielding visitors. News will circle that I’ve arrived, and soon enough we’ll have a proper family reunion down there.”

  I sense something below Gosha’s tough exterior. His pain runs deep. Only people who share that pain can feel it in others. I place my hand on his arm and offer him my last ounce of compassion. After the revelations of Sasha’s murder, I thought that well had run dry.

  “Gosha, can you live with yourself if you kill the innocent ones?” I ask.

  Gosha looks to the ground.

  “Stop it, Yulia,” Dimitri growls at me. “Gosha, you know how many lives this will save.”

  “And you probably know some of the innocent lives it will take,” I whisper.

  “How would you save them?” Gosha whispers.

  I look up, searching for some inspiration. Dimitri groans.

  “When you enter the code,” I say, daring Dimitri to disagree, “tell the women. Tell them to save the children.”

  “Why would they care about saving anything other than their own necks?” It’s so simple Gosha wants to dismiss it.

  “We don’t get to decide whether they show compassion. We only get to decide whether we do.”

  “I’m sure security would notice if these women just run out the door and flood the streets. We can’t alert our targets.”

  “Stop telling me why we can’t. Tell me how we can!” I glare at him.

  “The tunnels,” Gosha says quietly. “My mother disliked the abuse, so my father made it invisible. There’s a tunnel to his home and another that goes outside the city. The women could escape once the guards are dead. If we start recording now, I can build a loop. I don’t have time to make it good. Hopefully, it’s good enough.”

  “And the children?” I ask hopefully.

  Dimitri answers begrudgingly. “A couple of women leaving wouldn’t raise the alarm.”

  I sigh, relieved.

  “We’ll do it her way.” Gosha punches in a code, and the monitors in front of us fill with images of gaunt female bodies. As much as I want to look away, I force myself to see it. I’ll be thinking of them tomorrow as we murder countless people.

  Gosha turns to leave. “Don’t let them kill each other tonight,” he says to Zhenya.

  She looks up from her knitting as though she hasn’t been listening to every word we’ve said. No wonder she has absorbed so much over the years; she blends into the background until you barely remember she’s there.

  Zhenya gives Dimitri and me a warning look that somehow still matters.

  Chapter 44

  Gosha looks like a model in his finely tailored black suit. Dimitri wears a grey maintenance uniform with that stupid baseball cap. He doesn’t look remotely convincing. I’ve been monitoring the screen all night.

  Threats and shouting have echoed from downstairs most of the night as family members berate Gosha for his lack of loyalty and duty.

  “Only a few more people need to enter the complex, but no one is at the meeting yet,” I tell Gosha and Dimitri.

  Gosha winces. “My father never tolerates tardiness. They’ll be in their seats early.”

  “It’s time,” Dimitri announces. He pulls a semi-automatic weapon from his bag in the corner and passes it to me. I reach out to grab it, but he doesn’t let go. “Can I trust you for one more hour?”

  I grind my teeth and nod.

  I look at our motley crew, surveying Gosha’s haunted eyes, Zhenya’s exhaustion, and Dimitri’s emotionless mask. “Good luck,” I say to everyone. They nod and leave the room.
r />   I watch Gosha’s car drive through the complex. On another monitor, I see Dimitri slinking through the streets. Zhenya knits in the corner. She would help if I asked. But I don’t want her to have to be part of this.

  I’m keenly aware that Dimitri’s life is in my hands right now. I could send him down a street full of enemies if I chose to. But I won’t. I’ll give him more than he deserves. Gosha has effectively wiped Dimitri off the surveillance. Every time he reaches a new street corner, I tap on the map and it turns grey, meaning the block is placed on an empty loop. It will work until Dimitri hits the busier part of the complex, and then he’ll have to rely on the crowds to camouflage himself.

  Gosha reaches Kostya’s house first, and I shiver when I see him. I can almost smell his rotten breath through the monitor. The brothers don’t shake hands or exchange greetings. The arguments begin immediately.

  “I’ve brought my list of demands.” Gosha pushes into the sitting room.

  “You’re not in a position to demand anything from me. Everyone knows you don’t have the stomach for this job.” Kostya sneers.

  “I’d rather lack the stomach than the brains,” Gosha growls. “And yet, here we are.”

  “Yulia?” Dimitri whispers. “Am I clear?”

  I turn back to that screen. “Clear. One more block, and then you’ll be on the main street.”

  “Got it,” Dimitri whispers

  I turn back to Gosha’s monitor.

  “I want my inheritance now. Not when our father dies.”

  “Fine,” Kostya answers. “If you agree to never step foot in this complex again.”

  “Gladly.” Gosha glares.

  “My mother will be recognized as my father’s wife in the family cemetery. Move her grave next to Father’s. Your mother can be buried with the rest of the mistresses,” Gosha demands.

  “Your whore of a mother enters the family cemetery over my dead body.” Kostya laughs.

  “Don’t forget whose mother was the actual whore.” Gosha puffs out his chest.

  The pair fall quickly into fighting. They’ve likely spent a lifetime like this. I turn the volume down as Dimitri enters the crowded street. I need to focus.