by Raven Scott
Aleksander’s features drenched in amusement at my rasp. “What if I decide to keep you alive, Ophelia?”
For a fraction of a second, my mind puttered into action before I shook my head.
Aleksander leaned back, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa leisurely. He exuded iron will, and anything or anyone that got in his way would be crushed. “What if I gave you the opportunity to take your boyfriend and leave this life?”
“You wouldn’t. The families wouldn’t be crushed if you did that.” Maybe, for the first time, I stared Aleksander directly in the eyes. My eyelids ached and threatened to close, but I didn’t feel the instinctual need to look away. “You can’t just obliterate them. You need pawns. You don’t want them but need them. It doesn’t matter who they are, though. Pawns are replaceable for a reason…because once they go rogue, there’s no forcing them back onto their square.”
“You think I see this as a game?” he asked.
Frowning slightly, I shook my head again.
Aleksander tapped the back of the sofa with a thoughtfulness blazing from his eyes. “Tell me about your relationship with… what was his name? Sascha?”
“No,” the answer slipped out before I could stop it. Pursing my lips thinly, I ground my teeth as the temperature in the air dropped like a stone. We were sitting, waiting for whatever grotesque play Aleksander had planned. Glaringly, I wasn’t involved, but I didn’t know if this was a good thing or not. Whether Aleksander had different plans for me was not a mystery, but the specifics were. Regardless… it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.
“How about I tell you what I know about your relationship, then.” Aleksander gazed at me through hard, narrowed eyes.
There was no escaping it, but the anxiety of him knowing anything about Sascha flooded my gut.
“Your boyfriend is a professor at Moscow State University as a nuclear chemist. You’re only 22, but he’s almost 40. You’ve been together since a few weeks after you turned 18, but I couldn’t find out how you met. Your parents hate him because he wasn’t born in Russia, but he’s been here since before the fall of the USSR, and he’s got dual citizenship. Both his parents are dead, now, and he’s got no siblings in the country.”
“… That’s not much about our relationship, just us as people.”
Aleksander shot me the blandest look possible.
My brows twitched as they drew together. “You really don’t know anything about us?” I asked.
“You’re very good at keeping secrets. I’ll be honest, Ophelia, I came here today with every intention of killing you.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms and across my chest at how casually he spoke. What kind of monster just says something like that?
Leaning back again, Aleksander crossed his knees to tilt his head at me. “I decided not to because of exactly how little I could find on you and your boyfriend. Interestingly enough, you always use cash, avoid places with too many security cameras, and have no online presence. So, either you’re very careful or very boring, both of which I find positive traits.”
“We’re boring. I like it… being boring.” Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I held my throat in a clammy palm. Inhaling a shaky, shallow breath, my eyelids fluttered to dislodge a particularly brave tear. “Being n-normal people— they don’t worry a-about coups, about dying, being k-killed—by their bosses.”
“Why would you worry about my killing you, Ophelia? Ignorance isn’t an excuse, and that’s a philosophy I live by. Frankly, though, you weren’t ignorant. You didn’t suspect something was going on and ignore it, which is the definition of ignorance, by the way. No… you, Ophelia, aren’t just ignorant. You’re innocent. At least, in this, you’re innocent.”
Hiccupping a gasp, I closed my eyes tightly and turned away.
“I don’t think I’ve ever truly believed someone was innocent, but this coup…” he paused. “You’re innocent of it.”
“You’re contradicting yourself.” Aleksander talked circles around me, and I was tired of spinning around. “Just say it, okay?”
“You can’t be innocent in this business, Ophelia, and you can’t just escape it. Work for me, and I’ll allow you your side piece and your relative anonymity.”
Now this drew my tired eyes to his face.
Aleksander frowned under narrowed eyes. “All you have to do is marry a man that does benefit me if you won’t.”
“Excuse me?” Croaking harshly, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Aleksander stood up to smooth his jacket, staring down at me like I was a bug under his shoe. His 5,000 ruble shoes. “Innocence doesn’t equate to uselessness. Either you’re useful to me, or you get removed from the picture. Keep your boyfriend. Keep your secrets. Keep your boyfriend a secret I don’t care. Somehow, someway, Ophelia… you said it yourself. All pawns are replaceable. I’m giving you the option to decide how you’re replaced.”
The strangest sense that Aleksander Makovich ‒ the most powerful person in Russia ‒ was doing me a favor swept through me as my eyes widened in surprise.
He inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. “I’ll give you two months to decide, Ophelia. Now, let’s go execute your parents and brother.” Aleksander held out his hand for me, eyes expectant and glistening with impatience.
Clenching my jaw hard, I forced my knees unbend and flexed my toes. Every part of me was still and unyielding, as if my joints were made of the concrete I slept on last night. Just moving was exhausting, but I refused to take his hand. Crossing my arms tightly over my chest, I shook my head and hoovered a huge breath— until my lungs couldn’t take it.
He raised a brow at me. “Do you care if they die? Or do you care because it affects you?”
I didn’t bother trying to think hard enough to answer him. The living room seemed too wide, and my legs ached just thinking of crossing it.
“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?”
