Chapter 21 – Solntsevo District, Russia
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SOLNTSEVO DISTRICT, RUSSIA
The hood over my head itches like hell, and my wrists burn where the zip ties cut into my skin. The van shakes beneath us, every bump in the road making Anton jolt beside me.
I slip my hand into his and squeeze, feeling him stiffen and tremble. He’s terrified, and I can’t do shit to help him.
We were with the bodyguards when the SUV was taken over by thugs in masks. My other brothers stayed after school for some meeting, so it was just me and Anton. The men came out of nowhere, guns pointing at all of us.
They fought our bodyguards and shot them, then dragged us into a van while we kicked and hit them as best we could. But there were at least five of them, and we didn’t stand a chance. Then the hoods were shoved over our heads and everything went black.
The van jerks to a stop, and I immediately tense. There are footsteps before a door slides open, and then hands are yanking us out.
Something hard and cold jams into my back, and I know right away that it’s a gun. The guy at my back shoves me and I stumble forward, my heartbeat slamming in my ears.
“Bystreye,” he grumbles. Faster.
We’re forced inside somewhere. I can’t see much, but the air changes. It’s not cool anymore, replaced by a nasty smell of some kind. Like mildew or something gross like that.
Someone pushes me down onto a hard floor. “Syad i ne dvigaysya.” Sit and don’t move.
I obey. Can’t give them a reason to kill my brother.
I don’t recognize their voices. It’s probably just another set of enemies my father has made. He has plenty, and he trained us for this very thing.
But nothing prepares you for it. Not the fear or panic. It’s different when it actually happens.
Though I worry for Anton more than myself. He’s only eight.
Pain means you’re alive. Use it to your advantage. Do not let them break you, my father would tell us when he would pit us against one another in a fight.
The loser would be locked up in a cellar for days as punishment, scraps for food, just a little water to get by until the next time. We knew we didn’t want to be locked up again, and that survival instinct would kick in and we’d fight harder for it not to happen again.
Except with Anton, I would lose just so he didn’t have to face it. But my father was smarter than that. He’d see right through it and would punish Anton anyway.
Plastic bites tighter into my wrists, and I hear Anton grunt.
“Ne trogay yego!” I yell. Don’t touch him!
A voice laughs in front of me before someone pulls off my hood.
The light stings my eyes. I blink hard as my gaze adjusts. The room looks like a basement. Cement walls. No windows. One hanging bulb overhead. Five men. All of them with guns.
One of them steps forward. A scar runs down his face, teeth crooked when he sneers.
“You want to take your brother home?” the man asks, his Russian accent thick.
Him speaking English doesn’t help me figure out who they are. We speak both too. Father made sure of it. It’s important for business, he’d say.
I nod, but I know there’s a catch. There’s always a catch. That’s why we’re here.
He crouches in front of me. “Then tell me where your father keeps the jewel.”
My stomach turns. We’re going to die here.
I know exactly what jewel he means. Our father’s most prized possession, stolen from some European museum years ago. People have killed for it. Died for it. And when it comes to us versus the jewel, we’re nothing.
Loyalty and honor above all.
That is what he drilled into us.
Don’t break. Don’t talk. Don’t beg.
So when the bastard punches me in the face, I just smirk through the blood. He wants me scared. I won’t give him that.
“Oh, you think it is funny?” he growls. “We will see how funny you think I am.”
He turns, and grabs Anton, ripping the hood from his head.
My whole body lunges forward. I can’t let them hurt him. He’s just a kid. Yeah, we have all seen a lot of shit, been dealt a lot of it too, but this will be too much for him. He will break.
“Maybe your little brother knows.” He pulls Anton’s hair, forcing his head back.
Anton grins, a defiant, shaky kind of grin. “I don’t know anything.”
He’s trying so hard to be brave, but I can see the tremor in his leg, the way his shoulders shake.
He doesn’t know anything. But I do.
The man leans closer to him. “Last chance.”
And Anton—my stupid, fearless brother—spits, “Fuck you.”
The man slowly drops his hand, like he’s enjoying this. He crosses the room, and for one second, Anton looks at me, chin trembling and eyes shining.
“Vso budit khorosho,” I whisper. Everything will be okay.
But that’s a lie.
When the man comes back, he’s holding something long and black in his hand. A whip.
My stomach twists so hard, I think I will be sick.
“Maybe now you will talk,” he says.
The first crack splits the air like lightning, and Anton screams. It hits his thigh, loud and sharp. The sound echoes in my chest until it hurts to breathe.
He hurts him again and again. Anton’s cries fill the room, and every one of them feels like it’s aimed at me.
“Tell me where the jewel is!” the man shouts, glaring at me while he hits Anton, this time on the other leg, bright blood breaking through his skin.
I can’t. I can’t tell them. If I do, my father will kill us both. And worse, he will be proud doing it.
“Pain means you are alive,” I say fast, locking eyes with Anton. “You are a lion. You fight to the death.”
His body rocks with his sobs, but he nods as another strike comes.
“Don’t hurt him! Do whatever you want to me.”
The man chuckles, but it causes him to stop and move toward me. “If you want me to stop, you know what you have to do. Tell me where the jewel is!”
My body rocks with harsh breaths, but I don’t say anything. It’s not an option.
He crouches down until I can smell his disgusting breath. “I will break you, boy.”
Then he flips open a knife and slices my shirt right down the middle. Cold metal presses hard into my chest, leaving a thin line of blood.
I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain like Papa taught me, and stare him dead in the eye.
Another man hands him a lit cigarette. I don’t get it. Until I do.
He presses it into the cut.
The burn is instant and unbearable. I groan, jerking against the zip ties, the smell of my own singed flesh turning my stomach. He does it over and over until it covers my entire chest, until the pain makes me want to die.
“Where is it? Tell me and you can go.”
“Kill me.” I laugh. “I won’t talk.”
“Please stop!” Anton snivels. “We don’t know. Our dad doesn’t tell us that stuff!”
I remain quiet. Because even through the pain, even through Anton’s sobs, I hear my father’s voice.
Don’t betray the family. Don’t break.
Anton sobs beside me as one of the men presses a gun to his temple.
The man with the cigarette grins. “Last chance. Tell me where the jewel is, or he dies.”
My chest heaves. “No, don’t! Please! Don’t hurt him! He is just a kid!”
“We were all kids once.”
I cry for the first time since I was six. Hot, angry tears spill down my cheeks. I can’t lose my brother.
The man cocks the gun. Anton looks at me. His lips tremble, but he doesn’t speak.
“Three…two…”
No, no!
Loyalty over love. Family is the oath you swear to.
“One.”
The gun goes off.
“Anton!” I scream his name, the sound tearing through me.
He flinches, his small body jerking. But…there’s no blood? No hole.
He’s alive?
“What the—”
The men start laughing. All of them. Like this is a joke.
I stare at Anton, shaking so hard my teeth clack. He’s crying. I’m bleeding. And none of it makes sense.
They didn’t kill him. Why?
Then…footsteps.
When I look up, I choke on the air.
My father stands in front of us, hands behind his back, disappointment written all over his face.
“I thought today might be the day you made me proud.” He circles us like a wolf, his voice calm. Too calm. “But I see now I have to push harder to make you into men. Because this…” He gestures to us. “This crying. This begging. It’s pathetic.”
He stops in front of me and crouches, grabbing my jaw in his hand. His fingers dig into my cheek until it hurts.
“You failed,” he says softly. “You are always such a disappointment.”
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stare straight at him. The pressure on my throat tightens when his thumb brushes under my chin. I want to look away, but I don’t. Because weakness is what he wants to see.
And I will die before I give him that.
But his words hurt deeper than the whip. Deeper than the burns on my chest.
He turns to Anton.
“And you.” He scoffs. “Have I taught you nothing?”
Anton freezes, but he doesn’t speak.
“You have to stay strong. You look death in the face and smile. Do you understand?”
Anton nods fast, tears streaking down his face. Father straightens, adjusting his cuffs like we’re beneath him.
“Take them home,” he orders one of the men. “I can’t stand to look at either one of them.”
Then he’s gone. Just like that.
The room is silent except for my brother’s uneven breathing and the sound of someone cutting through the zip ties.
They drag us back to the van, and I can’t feel my legs. My skin still burns, but it’s nothing compared to the deep, rotting pain in my chest.
I sit beside Anton, staring at the window, but seeing nothing except the way my father looked at me.
After a minute, Anton’s hand snakes to mine, but I pull away.
Love is weakness. It hurts you. Destroys you.
And when you find it, you tear it apart with your teeth before it tears you apart first.