7. Sasha
SASHA
I can’t breathe.
My feet refuse to move, and my heart thunders in a rhythm so intense, I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped its way out of my rib cage and spilled at my feet.
Invisible hands claw harder at my throat the longer I stare at the man’s face.
I wouldn’t have missed it if I’d tried. I couldn’t. The sight of his round face, thick build, and half-bald head is engraved in my memories as if I saw him yesterday.
He was at our house a few days before the massacre. My brother and cousins didn’t know, because they were forbidden from the office area, but I snuck about with Mama when she was bringing them drinks.
I hid by the wall and saw this same man sitting on the chair with a nonchalant coldness while Papa and my uncles spoke heatedly.
The reason I could never forget his face is because of the psychopathic-like disinterest he held for the whole conversation. I didn’t hear much because Mama quickly shut the door and shooed me away, but I heard Uncle Albert ask in a supplicating tone, “Just one more chance…”
I remember thinking a man like that wouldn’t give whatever chance Uncle Albert was asking for, and I was right. I have no clue how involved he was in the annihilation of my family, but I know for certain that he played a role in it.
A major one.
It's no coincidence that he was at our house only a few days before it was transformed into a bloodbath.
It’s also not a coincidence that I’ve seen him here, in the Special Forces camp, of all places, now of all times.
Civilians aren’t allowed inside training military institutions, so he must have some sort of link to the higher-ups.
This is probably fate giving me a chance to avenge my family by so fittingly putting him in my path.
A red haze covers my eyes, and my muscles home in for action. I forget why I wandered here in the first place. My physical being slowly detaches from my mental being until only one thought beats beneath the surface of my skin.
Kill.
Shoot.
Revenge.
The man moves lethargically, walking with the speed of a turtle, probably due to his large build. A disapproving look covers his features, turning his face blue. There’s nothing of the nonchalant coldness he regarded Papa and my uncles with that day.
No aristocratic haughtiness that made me want to punch him in the face even back then.
I study my surroundings, forcing my bloodstream and breathing back to normal. In fact, they’re so low, I’m slipping into the category of camouflaging my existence. A technique I’ve learned since I joined the special ops.
Viktor, who’s standing by the door the man came out of, slips inside and conveniently disappears from view.
Since he was followed by an army of guards the other time, I’m sure they’re waiting for him outside. I only have this chance to get rid of the man.
My steps are inaudible, and my movements turn fluid as I slip forward in pursuit. Once I’m close enough to perceive the glistening sweat on the back of his neck, I lean down and retrieve the knife stashed in my boot.
The closer I get, the more I suppress my breathing, mentally preparing myself for the strike.
But the moment I’m about to stab him, a shadow appears from the opposite end of the hall.
In a second, I jump back behind a wall and glue my body to it.
The shadow is his guards. Not one, but three. Burly, tall, and with mean expressions written all over their features. If I’d killed him, I’d be in shreds about now.
My breathing heightens, coming out heavy and irregular. A tear clings to my lid as I stare at him being escorted out of reach.
There’s no worse frustration than lacking power.
If I were stronger, those three guards wouldn’t have fazed me, and I would’ve finally started getting revenge for my family.
But I’m not stronger and, therefore, will be stuck in this position of thinking ‘almost’ and ‘could’ve.’
“Here you are.”
I hide the knife in the belt of my pants and dab at my eyes as a body crashes into me from behind and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
Maksim has that usual joyful gleam on his face, but there’s the general wariness everyone brims with today. “Why are you here, Sasha?”
My mouth goes dry, but no answer comes out. Why the hell did I come here in the first place…?
Seeing that man turned my head entirely blank, and I forgot why I wandered here alone instead of being part of what the guys call a ‘mission ritual,’ which is basically meditating and worshipping their weapons.
Maksim stares down the hall, then narrows his eyes on me.
He has a boyish charm and an easygoing presence that I’ve gotten used to ever since he ‘took me under his wing.’
Now, however, he looks suspicious. “Have you come to see the captain?”
Oh. I remember now.
“Yeah, the captain! I wanted to ask him one more time to give me a chance.”
I swear I lost a few years of my life when I made the decision to stand face-to-face with Captain Kirill. Since our last encounter, I’ve been dreading looking him in the eye, let alone having any alone time with him.
Hell, I was ready to bribe Viktor to go with me, even though his company isn’t that enjoyable. It’s still less intimidating than the captain’s, though.
But then I saw the man from the past, and all my plans went to hell.
“Either you’re too na?ve or too foolish if you think Captain would change his mind after making a decision.” Maksim ruffles my hair. “You’ll learn, though.”
“You said you’ve known him since you were born?”
“Yeah, my father works for his father.” He grins. “But I was too cute for my own good, so the family doted on me, in a way. Everyone except for Captain, that is.”
“Why?”
He releases me, then glares in a perfect imitation of the captain’s usual expression. “He was born looking exactly like this and being Mister I Hate the World, and I’m Going to Keep Viktor Close So We Can Hate the World Some More.”
I smile. “Was it always that bad?”
“I’m kidding.” He lets his hands drop. “Viktor had a mutation and has actually become way worse.”
I hit his shoulder jokingly. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m a funny asshole. There’s a difference.” His expression sobers. “In all seriousness, Captain is a product of his father’s rigid upbringing. You know how they say some monsters are born and others are made? He falls right in-between.”
“Rigid upbringing how?”
“Nothing you should worry about.” He subtly ignores my question and points down the hall. “Let’s get out of here before Viktor hears and comes up with creative methods for our punishment.”
“But I haven’t said anything.”
“You listened and laughed. That counts.”
I follow after, begrudgingly giving up on convincing the captain, even if a part of me is glad that I don’t have to face him.
“Hey, Maks?”
“Yeah?”
“You said the other day that most of you grew up together,” I circle back to the previous topic. “Does that mean everyone has come here at the order of the captain?”
“Not everyone—about seventy percent. And there was no order. Boss, Captain Kirill, decided to leave the family and enlist, so many of us followed.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Maksim lifts his shoulder. “Some do it for the action, but most of us are just loyal to him. Not to the level of Viktor’s stoic loyalty, but those who came to Russia prefer him over any other member of the family. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to gain experience in the meantime.”
He speaks the words with so much affinity and sure determination. For some reason, I’m jealous of the captain. I wonder what he did that these guys would follow him blindly to the pits of death, just because he decided to leave his privileged life and enlist.
“No one in the family approves of his choice to come here,” Maksim continues. “More accurately, the old boss doesn’t approve. He comes around once a year or so to personally try to drag him back.”
“The old boss?”
“Captain’s father. You just saw him leave. That old, round man?”
My lips part, and I fall a step behind him. “That’s…the captain’s father?”
“Sure is. His name is Roman Morozov. We all paid our respects to him just now when you disappeared since he’s our boss’s father. He’s always bitching about how we should go back to New York, and although we nod absentmindedly, we mean nothing of it. Where Captain goes, we go.”
My hand trembles, and it takes effort to stop it from giving away my state.
The man who definitely played a role in my family’s demise is the captain’s father.
Why did he have to be his father?
But most importantly, what am I supposed to do with this information now?
* * *
At the start of the mission, everyone is on high alert.
Since I’m backup, I remain where the captain ordered us to—near him. We’re all the new additions to the unit, and even though some have more combat experience than me, I’m consoled by the fact that they’re also kept on backup.
Our mission today is to infiltrate a warehouse where illegal weapons are stored, apprehend or kill the terrorists, and then report our findings back to base.
We’ve landed near the warehouse that’s strategically located in a cave under a dome of snow. As per the training we’ve been repeating for weeks, we have successfully crawled to the warehouse.
Captain raises his fist, stopping all of us in our tracks behind some large trees. He motions at the snipers to take their positions. Three soldiers crawl away to find the preapproved locations that offer a clean shot.
The rest are divided into Team A, led by Rulan; Team B, led by Viktor; and Team C, aka the stupid backup, led by the captain himself.
Captain Kirill motions at us to stand, using the trees as camouflage.
According to the mission map, Rulan and company should’ve been out already. It’s not wise to delay these types of encounters any longer than needed, considering their volatile nature.
However, the captain has been looking at the barely visible windows of the warehouse for the past five minutes, unmoving, like a wall of muscles.