6. Anastasia
Chapter 6
Anastasia
“You can’t just walk into the Vault. This is precisely why I said it needed to be me.” The exasperation is clear in Nikolai’s voice.
I skirted around how exactly I gathered the information when he called me, but that still leaves what the next step is. And since Nikolai’s on house arrest at our grandmother’s house, there’s absolutely no chance he’ll find out.
“Well, it’s not you. So, are you going to help me or not?” I rub my temples as we go over this for the hundredth time, always ending up with the same thing. There’s no way I can go down there without someone noticing. Never in the Order’s history has a woman been in the Vault, blah blah…bla— “Wait…”
“I don’t like the sound of your voice, Ana,” Nikolai says.
What’s with boys calling me annoying nicknames lately? Heat curls below my navel as images of Bash kneeling in front of me fill my brain. I shove them to the side. “What if it’s okay if everyone sees me?”
“Just because you’re a Volkov doesn’t change the fact that no women are allowed in the Vault.” He lets a long slow breath as if searching for patience.
I itch to reach through the device and throttle him. “I know that. That’s why I think I should pretend to be you.”
His laugh is loud, and I have to pull the phone from my ear until he’s finished. “No one in their right mind is going to believe you’re me. Not only are you thinner, but I have several inches on you. You may be tall, Ana, but you aren’t that tall.”
He’s not wrong, but at five ten, a pair of four-inch heels will do the trick. I tell him that.
He grumbles. “And how do you intend on hiding those?”
“You wear robes, don’t you?” Already going through the plan in my head, I ignore his protests.
Nikolai sighs. “You’re going to go through with this no matter what, aren’t you?”
“Definitely. Now, be a good brother and help. Well, unless you want me to get caught.” It’s not fair to play that game, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Fine. My robes and masks are in the bottom drawer in my closet. You’ll find the key taped under my desk.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Geez. Who did you think was going to break in?”
“Considering the punishment for having someone else steal your mask is dismemberment, I’m sorry I was extra cautious.”
A chill runs down my spine, the consequences of what will happen if I’m caught coming in crystal clear. I straighten and push as much assurance into my voice as I can. “I can do this.”
“I know, Ana. If anyone can, it’s you. It’s just if something were to happen to you…”
“Even if someone does catch on, I’ll get out of there,” I assure him, pushing confidence into every word.
“I still don’t like it.” He sounds like the brother who raised me, and guilt rises in the back of my throat. He’s protected me my entire life.
“If it comes to it, marrying some gross Russian guy won’t be the end of the world,” I say, hoping my laugh is believable.
“That won’t happen. We will run. I have some savings stashed where no one knows. I’ll get you out of here. Screw the Salvatores.” Now he sounds like the big brother I’m used to. The one who taught me how to ride a bike and put bandages on my knee when I fell off. I’ve always been able to lean on him. This time…this time, I’ll be the one stepping up.
I raise my chin and make my way to my brother’s room, never so grateful that he hadn’t moved out.
“I’ve got this, Nikolai.”
There’s a long pause before he releases a breath and says, “Just promise you won’t do anything risky.”
Bash’s gray eyes and the sly smirk he wore as he answered my questions fill my vision. I won’t be telling my brother any of that.
“I promise.”
He huffs. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Aren’t I always good?” I say sweetly.
He laughs, and I’m glad to hear the levity return to his voice. “If that were the case, I’d be there, and you’d be here.”
“I love you” is my only reply. This time, we will just have to disagree because to me, we’re exactly where we belong. I started all of this years ago. The second my mother fell, all the dominos that led us here started to fall into place. I have to do this…I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.
“Love you too, kid. Video call me when you get everything ready. I want to check what you look like before you go out.”
“Of course you do.” I groan, hanging up.
It feels weird to push open my brother’s bedroom door. I haven’t been in here without him since I was little, but it’s still as familiar as ever. Back then, he’d let me flip through his comics while he played games. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was kind of a dork. Which was partially my fault because he’d been taking care of me ever since my mother passed away.
I’m haunted by the memories of that bright morning. The way my mother lay perfectly still on the floor like she was sleeping. I called her name over and over, begging her to wake up, but instead of her warm smile, her hands were ice-cold. I needed to show everyone there was no reason to cry, but when her face turned toward me, her lifeless eyes stared past me. My dad dropped beside me, his shoulder hitting my own, pushing me out of the way. His sobs filled the room as he hugged her stiff body.
I pulled on his shirt, trying to get him to see me, to hold me, but he never looked away, and he hasn’t held me since.
It wasn’t until I saw the blood on my hands that I understood. My mother was never coming back, and it was all my fault.
I’d spent so much time in this room because it was Nikolai who comforted me when I had nightmares. Most were gruesome, filled with my mother’s scream and my father’s cries. Some were sweet, where I didn’t ask her to climb up to get that damn balloon, but she still ended up cold on the floor. No matter what I did, she never woke up.
Nikolai was the one who woke me, telling me it would be alright, and always kept a light on because I hated the dark.
He was only a few years older than me, but he’d taken over where my father couldn’t.
Tragedies shouldn’t be allowed to happen on such nice days. That moment played over and over in my dreams. The stiff hands, the dull gaze. It feels cruel that it was so sunny outside.
Our father walked around like a ghost after that morning, passing through the space like we weren’t even there. The love he had for my mother had broken him.
I slide my hand beneath Nikolai’s desk until the cool, jagged edge of the key brushes my fingers. Gotcha. I unhook it from its hiding place and proceed to the closet. Gone are the oversized sweaters he used to wear, replaced with crisp pants and button-down shirts. Guilt pulls at my chest at the way he’s had to step up to lead our family when my father couldn’t.
I swallow hard. No matter what, I’ll do this for him. This time, I’ll be the one taking care of us.
The key slots easily into the locked drawer, and it opens without a creak. The black robe is heavy in my hands as I rub the thick fabric. There’s a little thrill tingling through me as I drape it over my shoulders. Never in a million years did I expect to put it on. No matter how much my brother cared for me, I’d never been allowed to touch it. No one messes with Lord of Saints business. Well, until now.
There’s a velvet box on the bottom of the drawer. The gold latch lifts easily, revealing an angry-looking sterling silver wolf’s mask that indicates my brother as a Saint. My fingers shake as I lift it from the case and tie the coal-black ribbon securely behind my head, lifting the hood until it shadows my face and hides my hair.
It weighs more than I expect as I make my way back into the bedroom and look at myself in the full-length mirror. I look like a child drowning in my older brother’s clothes. There goes that idea.
I take a quick picture and send it to Nikolai, who replies within seconds.
Nikolai: You look ridiculous.
Me: What do you mean? I thought I looked masculine.
I add the sarcastic melting-face emoji to get my point across.
Nikolai: In the back of my closet there’s a bulletproof vest. Put it on underneath.
My mouth purses, and my brows pull together.
Me: Why do you have that?
Nikolai: It’s not important right now. Things have settled down lately, anyway.
Me: You’re not getting off that easy. We’re going to have a LONG chat about this when you get back.
I type as I make my way into the closet. Like he said, there’s a bulky tactical vest tucked in behind. I shimmy off the robe, hook it onto the shelf, and grab the vest. My arms drop with the weight of it, and my cheeks puff out at the realization that I’m going to be wearing this for a while. Thank God my years of ballet have trained me for this. I’m in good shape, and I’m used to being uncomfortable. If I can do pointe shoes, I can do this.
It’s hard to hold one-handed, so I’m quick to push my arm through one side, then the other. The material is rigid, creating a boxlike shape over me. I throw the robe on and head back to look in the mirror. My brows shoot up, nearly reaching the mask perched near my hairline before I pull the silver down into place. The vest has doubled the width of my shoulders, replacing my slimmer frame with a large masculine one. At five foot ten, I’m not as tall as Nikolai, so it puddles at my feet, but I still look great in this.
Hell, If I were a girl, I’d date me.
I relax my face and clench my jaw, forcing my cheeks to widen in my best attempt to mimic my brother before taking another picture and firing it off to him.
Nikolai: Decent.
I huff out a breath.
Me: Come on, this deserves more than decent.
Nikolai: I’m still not happy about this.
Me: Do you have a better plan?
Nikolai: Promise me you won’t get caught
Unease settles into my bones. We both know I can’t make that promise. There’s a genuine possibility of me being discovered, but I refuse to let the fear crawling up my spine stop me from doing this. I inhale deeply and remind myself. It’s just a bunch of stuck-up, rich men in capes. I can totally do this. I take it off, sliding it into a drawer in my room.
Me: I’m not planning on it. Now tell me how to get into the Vault.
My head feels like it’s going to explode by the time I hang up the phone. He’d made me run through my plan over and over again until it felt natural. He even drew me a crude map that’s so bad it’s nearly illegible.
There’s a drumming behind my eyes that’s rattling my brain. The only way I’m going to prevent this migraine is if I cut it off now. Even then, it’s a shot in the dark. I grab the painkillers from the kitchen cupboard. The water is cool on my tongue as I chase the pills down my throat.
I’m about to finish when the doorbell rings, and I freeze in place, my body stiffening. I’m not expecting anyone, and it’s not like I have friends who’d come to visit. Even the women I work with at the ballet studio don’t know where I live.
There’s a prickling sensation under my skin as I walk to the entrance. Dread slams into my stomach and swirls until the water I’d just drank threatens to resurface.
The two Salvatore men from the other day stare at me through the glass panel in the door.
“Open up, Miss Volkov,” one of them says. He’s stocky, a good five inches shorter than the man beside him. His huge head sit directly on his shoulders as if he took one too many hits to the crown and it compressed his neck.
The other guy is his complete opposite. Tall, with a wide back and a tiny head that looks mismatched to his body, like a doll that had its parts switched. There’s an uncanny valley look to him that gives me the creeps.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why are you here? We still have time.”
The short man smiles, but it’s all wrong. “We’ll be seeing you periodically in case you get any ideas. Now, open this door before your neighbors get curious.”
I suppress a shudder and shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m already working on getting you the money.”
“Your brother in there?” the tall guy asks, a thick Boston accent morphing the vowels.
Ice-cold tingles travel from my scalp, down my face, and over my shoulders as if water was poured over me. Something tells me letting these guys know Nikolai isn’t around is a very bad idea. “He’s busy right now.”
They tilt their heads in unison, and I have to lock my feet in place to keep from fidgeting under their gaze.
The taller guy raises a brow at his partner. “I don’t believe her. Do you?”
“Not even a little,” the other replies.
Shit. I need to get them out of here fast before they decide coming in here by force is a good idea. “Listen, I heard you loud and clear. I’m getting your money, so you being here is just slowing me down.”
“You better be telling the truth.” The short man points at me, then gestures to his partner with his chin to head out. “We’ll be back to check up on you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I rush out.
“Oh, but Miss Volkov, it’s our pleasure. Wouldn’t want you forgetting what happens to those that don’t repay the Salvatores, do we? Well…unless you prefer to start paying it on your back.”
I shudder. “I told you I’d get the money.”
“Smart girl.” The man then follows his buddy, climbing into the passenger door of a blacked-out sedan.
My legs are jelly, and I press my back into the wall for support as I try to calm the pounding of my heart. If I wasn’t determined before, this little visit definitely lit a fire. Which is exactly what they intended, I’m sure.
I rest my head against the plaster and close my eyes. Let’s hope I’m a good thief.