by A. Zavarelli
Confused whispers begin to circulate around the room, but it only takes Alexei a moment to understand what’s happening. Someone has betrayed his secret, exposing his hearing impairment for all the Vory brothers to see.
“Turn it off,” he demands.
The boevik fumbles with the computer, but even when he removes the flash drive, the video doesn’t stop. Alexei glances across the room, and his eyes land on Sergei, the accusation clear. It would be my first assumption as well, given the bad blood between them. But the embarrassment doesn’t end there.
What happens next is worse. Far worse.
A sordid display of images emerges out of nowhere, flashing across the screen. Images of Alexei’s wife. Strung out. Gaunt. Lifeless. And in every still, she’s being fucked by a different man. They are from a time before Alexei took her into his possession, when she was still a slave. Logically, only two people should have access to these pictures. Talia and her former captor.
It’s difficult to witness this insult to my brother. He is a man who loves his wife more than any other, and he’s a man who has just been betrayed. One last slide presents itself, the final blow for all to see.
How does it feel to know your beloved Sovietnik is deaf and married to a whore?
Blind rage drives Alexei to smash the computer, and there isn’t a single word spoken among us. Viktor is the one to clear the room, instructing us all to wait in the bar. I’m the last man to leave my place, eager to help, but understanding that in Alexei’s present mental state, he won’t see it that way.
Viktor stops me at the door. “Nobody is allowed to leave this building.”
I nod, and the door closes behind him. My Vory brothers drink and speak quietly among themselves while we wait for a resolution. My eyes are fixed on Sergei, acknowledging the smug expression on his face. Soon, that smug expression will be replaced with a lifeless one.
If he did have his fingers in this, he’s covered his tracks well. I have witnessed the genuine love between Alexei and his wife, and it’s difficult to comprehend that she would ever do this, but that’s how it appears.
I know my brother. Like me, he is quick to believe the worst in others. And I know when he emerges from the control room with Viktor, he has come to believe the worst of his pregnant wife.
Viktor moves to the front of the room with Alexei in tow, and there is no explanation needed for what happens next. The Vory way is simple, but brutal. By hiding his secret from his Vory brothers, Alexei has committed a betrayal. The brotherhood doesn’t tolerate secrets, but Alexei has kept his for good reason. He considers his deafness a weakness.
It will not save him from punishment regardless. This is the Vory way. He strips his shirt and takes the drink that Viktor offers him first, draining it in one swallow. With a nod, he signals that he is ready to accept the consequences, and Viktor has the first honor of punching him.
He strikes Alexei in the gut, and then gestures for the rest of his Vory brothers to follow suit. Every man has his turn. Sergei takes pleasure in the act, pummeling Alexei twice. When my turn comes around, I apologize in advance, and then hit him where I hope it will hurt the least. He takes it like a man, and when the ordeal is over, he earns another tattoo. A symbol that he has earned his way back into the brotherhood with honor.
But there is no honor in what happened to him. I’m murderous on his behalf, but I don’t know what I can do to help him. Viktor calls for Franco and sends Alexei home to recover.
It’s only once he’s gone that it occurs to me I still have my own problems to deal with. And Viktor is not in a pleasant mood now. When he approaches me, I’m almost certain he will demand either Nakya’s death or Ana’s proposal by midnight tonight.
Instead, he slaps me on the shoulder. “We will discuss the marriage later. For now, I need you to do what you can to see Alexei through this. I foresee a difficult road ahead.”
I nod, but Viktor is quick to remind me that this isn’t over.
“Soon. You will make your proposal soon.”
Viktor’s orders have given me a renewed sense of purpose. It’s easier to focus on problems when they aren’t yours, and I have made it my objective to prove to Alexei that his wife did not betray him. However, my brother has proven himself to be more stubborn than I initially gave him credit for.
He’s too blinded by anger to listen to reason, and I stand little chance of redeeming Talia without proof of her innocence. Mischa is on surveillance detail, analyzing the video from the club that day, but his work takes time. Time is not a luxury I have when Alexei grows colder and more resistant from one day to the next.
He spends hours locked away in his office, obsessing over every piece of evidence. Cognac has become his only ally because he trusts no one. The natural and logical progression in this situation is a simple one. Alexei won’t let this go. At the risk of his own life, he will determine that the answers lie with Talia’s former captor. The only possible end to such a visit will be bloody and messy.
In many ways, his situation is reflective of my own. Impossible and doomed to failure.
This morning, I am reminded of business left unfinished when I study the pieces still waiting in my vault. It’s been too long since I painted, and it’s as if time has stopped, preserving the memory of that day for an eternity. Her image still rests on the easel, untouched, and I think if I could, I would hang it in my bedroom.
She catches me in a vulnerable moment when she enters the room, her eyes moving to the painting, and then to me. I avert my gaze to avoid the discomfort of this situation.
“Everything okay?” I clean up some odds and ends to keep my hands busy.
“You haven’t been here.” Her words are an accusation, and she is past the point of hiding it.
“I haven’t been with anyone else, zvezda. I’ve been helping Alexei.”
“Is Talia okay?” she asks.
“She is healthy, according to Alexei. But I imagine, given the circumstances, she could be doing much better.”
“I thought better of him,” she answers quietly.
“It’s easier to believe the worst in someone, is it not?”
When she doesn’t answer, I’m left no choice but to look. She has always been light on her feet, but today, she appears to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“What’s going to happen to us, Nika?”
I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. She deserves to know the truth. She’s waited for it so long. Nakya is not ignorant to the ways of our world, but it doesn’t mean she will understand. There is no softening the blow of the only words I have to offer her.
“I have but two choices, my sweet. And you will not like either option.”
“Tell me,” she insists. “I can handle it. I want to know.”
I’ve tried to stay away from her, but when she’s close enough for me to smell her intoxicating sweetness, I can’t remember why I needed to avoid her in the first place. When I gesture for her, she comes, and it only makes it worse.
“The truth is, zvezda, it was never our fate to end up together. The stars are not in our favor, and the only way this can end is in tragedy.”
“I don’t believe that.” She shakes her head, hair falling loosely around her pretty face.
“You know this world. Nothing is ever easy, and choices must be made. I can either forsake you and marry Ana, or I can let you go.”
“Forsaking yourself,” she finishes for me.
I toy with her hair and kiss her gently on the lips. Her eyes fall shut, and she leans her forehead against mine, soft and sad.
“Why can’t we change our fates? Let’s realign our stars, Nika. We can do it together. You can use your talents for your own benefit. You can paint, and I can dance, and—”
“You speak of impossible dreams.” I close my own eyes and inhale her, drowning in her innocence. “This is not the way our worlds work, pet.”
“It can be. Whatever we have to do—”
/>
“I’m going to kill your father, Nakya. I’m going to torture him slowly, and I will take his last breath. So tell me now that we can be together.”
Her body turns rigid in my arms, and just as I suspected, she retreats. I feel the loss of her everywhere, but I don’t force her to come back. I want her to know that when her father dies, it will be at my hand.
The man abused her, and for that alone, he deserves to die. But it is her blood. And just as I’m trying to make peace with killing my own father, she will not easily find peace with my decision.
“Why?” she implores. “The debt?”
“It was never about the debt.”
She paces the length of the room, collecting her thoughts and shaking her head. “I knew it couldn’t just be about the debt. You knew too much about my life. You were so angry with me, and … tell me why. I deserve to know.”
“He murdered my mother.”
She stops, and her sweetness turns to venom. “His mistress?”
“His slave,” I answer. “A forced whore.”
She blanches and rubs absently at her arms, visibly choosing denial. It’s easier for her to believe that the many women who stole her father’s attentions away from her sick mother were by choice. She has made it a full-time job to resent them. Her childhood gifted her a front row seat to the damages of infidelity, ensuring that she would remain steadfast in her resolve that she will never be a mistress. But she never saw the opposite side of the coin.
“I choose the second option.” She squeezes her arms around herself. “Let me go. Have mercy, Nika. Let me leave while I still have a chance.”
“Nakya.” I step toward her, and she retreats.
“No,” she says. “I think this should stop here. Please, let it stop here. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Where is he going?”
Mischa fiddles with the cigarette between his fingers, tapping it against the end of his thumb before flipping it over and repeating the action all over again. He’s reluctant to answer, and it makes me fidgety.
“He’s going to help his brother.”
“He’s been helping his brother for weeks. What makes this time any different?”
Mischa stuffs the cigarette back into the pack and sits down on the sofa. He says he came to check on me, but really, he came to deliver the message that Nikolai didn’t want to give me himself.
“Please tell me,” I insist. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”
Mischa leans back against the sofa, kicking his leg up and tapping his foot on the coffee table. “Against my advice, Nikolai is going to help his brother track down Talia’s former captor. It’s a dangerous place where they’re going, and there are only the two of them. There’s a possibility he might not make it back.”
I make an effort to reply, but nothing comes out of my mouth.
Mischa nods. We are both quiet while I process. I haven’t even looked at Nikolai in weeks, but the idea of losing him siphons every bit of warmth from my body.
“He could have said goodbye.” I swipe at the anger leaking out of my eyes.
Mischa barks out a laugh. “And give you the chance to push him away again? That isn’t his style, Nakya.”
“I didn’t push him away,” I argue. “It’s him. He’s the one who won’t make a choice. He could have avoided this.”
Mischa shakes his head. “It was never his choice to make. And if you don’t know that by now, then you will never survive in this world.”
“If you love someone, then you find a way. It might not be easy, but you can if you want to. And it has become clear to me that Nikolai doesn’t want to.”
“That is only what a hypocrite would say,” Mischa observes.
“I am not a hypocrite. You told me yourself I had to get away.”
“Riddle me this, princess.” He leans forward, humoring me with unrestrained animosity. “How do you believe this fantasy relationship of yours would work? You would go back to being a dancer, and Nikolai could paint pictures of flowers and ponies while traveling around the world with you?”
“Of course not. I know it wouldn’t be like that—”
“There is the small matter of having a bounty on both of your heads to consider. In addition to the fact that no matter where in the world you went, you wouldn’t be safe. But you don’t think about these things in your fantasy, do you?”
“I’m not ignorant,” I choke out. “I know it isn’t that easy.”
Mischa softens, the way he always eventually does. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
I fall onto the couch beside him, attempting to contemplate a world where Nikolai doesn’t exist. But I can’t. And I don’t know how it happened. One minute, he was stealing me away from my life, and the next, I was falling in love with him. There are so many complications between us that we can never overcome. His impending marriage. My impending death. His desire to murder my father. Every possible card is stacked against us, but still, I would fight for it if he did too.
“You know what it’s like to lose your mother,” Mischa interrupts my thoughts.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He lost his mother too, you know. His entire life, he’s been told that she walked away from him. Nikolai is good at holding onto things. He’s good at pushing people away before they can hurt him like that again. It’s why he’s so quick to believe the worst in people. It’s why he will turn on you when you least expect it.”
“If you’re trying to convince me that he’s not good for me, you can save your breath. I already know these things.”
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” he says. “I’m just telling you that until you, his relationships were nonexistent. You were the first woman to get under his skin. If nothing else, you should know that it does mean something.”
I offer him a weak smile, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“I know that I need to go,” I tell him. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me out with that again?”
“After what happened last time?” He shakes his head. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. Besides, he would definitely know it was me this time.”
I shrug. “Fair enough, I suppose.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “You’ll figure something out. I’m sure of it.”
During Nikolai’s absence, it has come to my attention that there is a two-hour gap throughout the day in which I’m alone with Nonna. At all other times, there is a Vory appointed guard loitering throughout the house. One who doesn’t speak or dare to look at me.
Mischa drops in usually every other day, but his visits are unpredictable. My window of opportunity is a small one. Since Nonna has the house locked up tighter than usual, I’m not able to get to the office to use the phone. So I have two options. Either the guard, or Mischa. I’ve been studying their every move, attempting to predict the most opportune moment. But when it finally presents itself, I’m not prepared at all.
It happens on a Sunday, in the morning, on the happenstance occasion that I cut my time in the gym short because my ankle is bothering me. Nonna always comes to lock up when her timer goes off, so I don’t bother to alert her. But when I leave the room, I bump into the guard as he’s racing toward the bathroom.
He looks like hell, and it’s apparent that he had no consideration for his duties this morning because he still reeks of alcohol from the night before. The bathroom door slams behind him and the sound of his retching follows me down the hall.
I’m content to continue on my merry way until I notice that he left his things behind on the sofa. Specifically, his cigarettes, some change, and a phone.
I glance back at the door down the hall. He could be in there for a while. This could be my only opportunity. Or it could backfire spectacularly. Either way, I know I have to try.
I scoop up his phone and dart into the closet, huddling into the corner among the coats, hoping I can be quiet enough. My fingers tremble
as I dial Gianni, and it seems to ring for an eternity before he picks up.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” I whisper. “I need your help. Can you get me out of here?”
He’s quiet for a beat, and I hear shuffling on the other line as he moves somewhere so he can talk. “Tanaka?”
“Yes. Please, Gianni, I don’t have long. I need your help.”
“I can’t come to his house. I’ve been trying to get to you another way, but you’ll need to get out on your own first.”
“How?” I hiss. “That’s not going to happen. I’ve already tried.”
“You have to, Tanaka,” he implores. “I can’t come there. It’s too risky. Too much surveillance. You need to get out first. Just get as far away from the house as you can, and I’ll come for you.”
I want to scream out my frustration, but down the hall, the toilet flushes. “When, Gianni?”
“Tomorrow,” he answers. “With Nikolai gone, I don’t trust that you have much longer.”
I’m not sure how he knows that Nikolai is gone, but he’s right. I don’t trust that I’m safe here any longer, and I know that this is the only way to save both of us.
“You have to be close by,” I tell him. “It’s the only way.”
“I’ll be close,” he assures me. “Just get out of the house, and I’ll come for you.”
Down the hall, the faucet turns off.
“I have to go,” I whisper. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Gianni agrees.
I press the end button frantically and race to delete the call but it’s too late to return the phone. The bathroom door opens, and when he walks down the hall, his shadow passes over the crack in the closet door.
There’s some rustling and a low curse in Russian before he’s walking back down the hall to the bathroom. I bolt from the closet as quietly as I can manage and run toward the sofa, stuffing the phone into the crack between the cushions.
I won’t have time to make it back up the stairs, so I run back to the gym. I barely have time to swing my leg up onto the barre before the guard pauses at the door, peering in. His eyes are narrowed, full of suspicion, but he doesn’t voice it. I return his gaze, desperately hoping I’m not giving anything away. After two of the longest seconds in my life, he goes back to the sitting room. I wait for five breaths before peeking around the corner to watch him from the door.
