5. Elena
5
ELENA
“ I ’m sorry about that. I needed a moment,” I tell everyone as I walk back into the living room.
“Are you okay?” my brother asks.
I nod. “I am.” I look over at Mackenzie, who gives me a wave of encouragement. “Grace, I had no idea what Dimitri put you through. And you, too, Zoe,” I say, looking between the two sisters. “What he showed me was another side and I can never forgive myself for falling for that man’s bullshit. If I’d known he was hurting you both, I would have killed him right then and there, and I don’t know how you both can ever forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.”
Sophie huffs in the corner at my comment, while Mackenzie sends daggers at her. The room is silent, everyone processing my revelation.
“He fooled me at the beginning, too. That man can be charming when he wants to be. I understand how you didn’t see the other side of him. That wasn’t what he wanted to show you, he had other plans for you,” Grace says, speaking up.
“How do you not know what a man like him is capable of?” Sophie asks, interjecting herself into the conversation.
“Hey, unless you walked in her shoes you can’t understand things,” Mackenzie states, coming to my defense.
Sophie’s eyes narrow on her older sister as she tries to work out why the hell she is sticking up for me.
“If I could go back in time and see things through a different set of eyes I would. I can promise you that I will hunt that man down and make him pay for what he has done to this family. What he has done with those girls,” I tell them coldly. The character of Persephone is seeping through, the one that doesn’t hesitate to kill someone.
“She’s frightening when she talks like that,” Damon whispers to Mackenzie, who nods and gives him a proud smile.
“Dimitri is a master manipulator, and his world is one giant chess board. You were another pawn in his game, Elena. Do not feel guilty about that. Grace and I had to learn the hard way that we, too, were pawns, now you have to,” Zoe explains to me.
“I don’t deserve all this,” I tell her honestly, waving my hand around the room.
“You’re like Grace and me, Elena. You’re a victim of the Bratva,” Zoe states firmly.
Sophie scoffs again as she shakes her head. “She is anything but a victim. This woman is a stone-cold killing machine.”
“Stop being a bitch, Sophie.” Mackenzie curses at her younger sister.
Sophie’s jaw drops at her sister’s words.
“Sophie’s right, I’m not a victim. Zoe and Grace are, I’m not,” I explain to the room.
“You were stolen and forced into a life you never wanted to live. You had no choice. It was either do this job or your entire family went to jail,” Grace adds.
“Is that what happened?” Elizabeth asks.
“I never grew up wanting to be this. I had dreams of being a ballerina, it’s the reason I was in America,” I tell them.
The room falls silent, all eyes are on me. I guess an assassin inspired to be a ballerina is different.
“How the hell did you get from ballerina to femme fatale?” Sophie grumbles.
“Guess I’d better start at the beginning then,” I tell them all.
I suck in a deep breath and steady myself as I haven’t ever told this story before.
“Elena and Anna, you are requested to see the principal,” my teacher advises as she reads the note handed to her.
Anna and I look over at each other and we are both so confused why we would be called to the principal’s office. We haven’t done anything wrong I don’t think. We are both straight-A students, there’s no reason for either of us to be called into the office.
“Go on, don’t keep Mr. Semenov waiting,” the teacher tells us.
The sound of our chairs scraping across the cement echoes through the classroom as each one of our classmates stares at us, wondering why we would be called out of class. Anxiety riddles me as I meet with my best friend Anna outside, the door to the classroom closing with a thud as we walk down the empty corridors.
“What do you think is going on? Are we in trouble?” Anna asks me.
“I don’t think so,” I say.
Anna and I decided at a young age that we would both leave this dark life we were born into and make a new one for ourselves in America. We know who our parents are, we aren’t blind, and finding out that my older brother Maxim has followed my father into this underworld life, Anna and I knew it would only be a matter of time before we, too, would be pulled into that world. Neither one of us wants that kind of life for ourselves but we know we will eventually be used as pawns in it. As much as our fathers say they don’t want us to be involved in their world, we know that one day, the time will come for either one of us to marry someone of our fathers’ choosing, and that will benefit their standing in the Bratva. I’m not supposed to know what my father or brother do, but I’m also not deaf. I’ve overheard plenty of heated conversations between my brother and father late at night. If I can get out of Sochi with a scholarship to anywhere in the fricken world, I’d be free of this life and this world that I want no part of. I don’t agree with the life my father and brother live, but that is their choice. And Anna and I leaving, will be ours.
We are quiet all the way to the school office as unease threads its way around us. When we arrive the doorbell tinkles above our head as we walk into the reception area.
“Hello, girls. Mr. Semenov is waiting for you in his office,” the receptionist tells us.
Anna and I give each other another worried look before we head into his office. My hand shakes as I knock on the door. He calls out to come in, and we both enter his office, a place neither one of us has been before. As we take in his sparse office, we notice our ballet teacher, Mrs. Mikhailov, sitting with him. She has a wide smile on her face.
“Welcome, girls. You both don’t need to look so worried, you’re not in trouble,” the principal states, which eases my fears.
Why are we here then if we aren’t in trouble?
“Girls, come, sit, it’s a wonderful day,” Mrs. Mikhailov states, patting the chair beside her.
Anna and I both take a seat in silence. My heart is thundering in my chest as I have no idea what is going on.
“I want to say how proud the school and I are of you both. You are exemplary students. You give us no trouble at all, and I wish my entire school was filled with students like both of you. It would make my life so much easier,” he says with a chuckle.
I give our principal a smile, but I’m not sure what his compliments are leading to.
“I’ll hand over to Mrs. Mikhailov to give you the good news,” he states.
Anna and I turn and give our ballet teacher our full attention.
“I agree with everything Mr. Semenov has said, and I couldn’t be prouder of the two of you for putting in all the hard work you have been doing these past couple of years. Your last dance exam was extraordinary, and it was the culmination of your years of sacrifice and dedication for the two of you to get perfect scores, making me the proudest teacher. I believe the two of you are destined for more than what our town can give you, so I sent videos of your dances to some of the best ballet schools around the world and applied for you both to be scholarship students after graduation next week,” she explains.
Anna and I look at each other. Never in our wildest dreams did we ever think we could apply for scholarships to ballet school, we had both been working on getting into overseas schools via our school grades. It’s the reason we work so hard on getting almost perfect grades, it was the only way out of this town. We had sent out a handful of applications, but we weren’t holding out on much hope that two little Russian girls would be accepted.
“This morning, I got an email for you both. I’ve printed it out. Read it,” she says, handing each one of us a white piece of paper.
We each take the paper, and I open it to see the words The Juilliard School, New York written in bold. And the words Elena Vasiliev, has been accepted into the Bachelor of Fine Arts degree on a full-ride scholarship. My mouth falls open as I gasp at the words that I’m reading. No. This can’t be happening, I’m dreaming. I look over to where Anna is and see tears welling in her hazel eyes. She looks up at me, and the same shock I am feeling is reflected on her face.
“Is this real?” I ask, my voice shaking with emotion.
“Yes. It is. You will be starting in the fall this year,” Mrs. Mikhailov explains excitedly.
“The school is so proud of you both,” Mr. Semenov says with a wide smile.
Little did we both know that our dreams had been orchestrated for other gains.