Chapter 5
5
OFELIA
T he flight to Miami takes twelve hours. Masha and I travel in a private suite at the rear of the plane, which has a large bed and a bathroom.
The door to the suite is locked, of course.
From the outside.
I clean up the cut on my face as best I can in the sink, but it needs stitches. I explain this to the guard who brings us a tray of food.
He ignores me.
I find some antiseptic and Band-Aids in the cupboard and do the best I can with those.
The only time we’ve seen Alexei Petrovsky since we boarded the plane is when he told us curtly that we are indeed flying to Miami. Since then he hasn’t spoken to Masha or me at all.
“Are they taking us to Deda and Baba Melnyck’s?” Masha asks. She’s huddled into my side, her eyes watching the door warily.
“I don’t think so, myshka .”
Unless Inger’s parents are part of this, too.
It’s the worst feeling I’ve ever known, not knowing who to trust. It makes me feel more alone than I ever have. I’ve been trying to work it out ever since I heard the guard tell Nikolai on the phone that he doesn’t take orders from him. I’ve been trying to do what I think Roman would, trying to think through everything that happened at the ball and afterward.
In fact, I’ve spent most of the twelve-hour flight going over every single thing I can remember.
And no matter how much I don’t want to believe it, the only possible conclusion I can draw is that Inger, our own mother , is the one who planned this.
Planned to have armed guards kidnap her own children.
It’s an awful thought. One most people would probably not even consider. But more than either of my siblings, I’ve had a front-row seat to my mother’s greed and selfishness for as long as I can remember. I’ve done my best to protect them both, to be the mother she never was, for any of us. To preserve at least a little of the illusion that she really does care for us all. But the truth is, I’m honestly not sure if Inger would really notice if any of us lived or died.
And now she’s traded us to the Orlovs. For what reason, I don’t know.
I’m not sure if Inger was working with them from the beginning or not. Perhaps she and Nikolai planned to kidnap us themselves. But they clearly had outside help, and somehow that help is connected to the Orlovs.
Why would Inger do this?
What possible motivation could she have for working with the same people Roman and Lucia are fighting against?
Darya. Not Lucia.
It seems important that I stop pretending, about even small things, to myself. The savage cut on my face is a reminder that there is no point in pretending. Not anymore.
I don’t sleep for the entire flight, though Masha eventually dozes off. I can’t sleep. I’m trying to think of a way out of this, of something I can do to alert Roman and Darya to where we are.
I try to think of what Mickey might do, but it’s impossible to even imagine. Mickey’s mind is a different world than mine. I don’t have his skills, his insane genius brain.
Instead, I try to think of what Darya Petrovsky might do.
Ever since I found out the truth about Lucia, I’ve been kind of fascinated by her. Mickey wouldn’t tell me much. Most of what I got out of him Roman had already told us or I’d researched myself on the internet.
I know that the Orlovs took Darya’s family home in a coup, and that Darya and her father eventually escaped. Mickey said they’d been running for years before she came to live with us. Darya was so good at hiding that apparently not even Roman knew who she really was at first.
She managed to escape from the Orlovs.
And that means I can, too.
I just need to think like Darya. To be as strong as her. For Masha, as well as for myself.
I just wish I knew what being strong looked like.
We land on another private airfield and emerge to brilliant sunlight.
Several black sedans are waiting for us, all with tinted windows and armed men standing beside them. Alexei follows us down the stairs, his men behind him. He’s clearly showered and changed on the flight, swapping the black suit he was wearing in Malaga for a blue shirt rolled to the elbows that reveals the tattoos on his forearms, over white linen trousers and leather boots. Aviator sunglasses cover his unsmiling face. His white-blond hair gleams in the sunshine, like one of the Vikings off that TV show.
He’s huge. He’s terrifying.
“The girls ride with me,” he says curtly, nodding to the middle car. It’s a limo, larger than the others.
One of the armed men spits off to one side. He has a fat face and thin, mean eyes. “I don’t think—”
“You don’t get paid to fucking think, Junior.” Alexei doesn’t so much as glance his way. “Your people nearly lost these two in Malaga. I’m not risking you fucking up twice.”
When the other man looks like he might argue, Alexei’s face twists into a contemptuous sneer. “My crew will stay here, so I’ll be entirely without backup, if that makes you feel better. You can take it up with your father when we get there—if you have the balls for it.” He stalks past the fat-faced man and opens the back door to the limo. “Get in,” he orders us.
We do. Whatever my escape dreams might be, a private airfield surrounded by what seems like fifty guns is definitely not the time.
He enters behind us and closes the door. The men who were on the plane with us remain on the tarmac, silent and black clad, guns at their sides.
The interior of the limo is silent, the glittering sunlit world outside the windows like another planet. Masha clings to my side, watching Alexei with wide, unblinking eyes. The convoy takes off with us in the middle. Alexei’s men watch us go.
He waits until we’ve left the airfield and turned onto the highway, then lowers the screen blocking us from the driver’s seat, but only an inch.
“You swept the vehicle, Dima?”
“Yes.” The driver’s mouth barely moves as he answers, and in the rearview mirror I can see his eyes, covered by sunglasses, staring straight ahead. “It’s clean. We’re fifteen minutes out. You can talk until we hit the gate, then we’ll have eyes on us.”
“Good.” Like the driver, Alexei stares straight ahead, his lips barely moving. He’s clearly not taking any chances of being seen. “What am I walking into?”
“Orlov’s nervous.” The driver, Dima, says this in a matter-of-fact tone, like someone describing the weather. “But so far, I think you’re good. Nobody knows you were in the ballroom.”
“Got it.” Alexei leaves the screen down, but he turns back to us. The car rounds a corner, and for a few moments, we’re out of sight of both the car in front and the one behind. He raises his sunglasses. His lone eye looks at Masha, then me. “We don’t have much time,” he says calmly, “so I need you girls to listen closely, okay?”
Masha scowls at him. “Don’ wanna listen to you.” She tucks her head into my arm.
Alexei’s mouth twists at the edge. It could almost be a smile. “I can understand that. But I need you to anyway, Masha.” His eye shifts to me. “I especially need you to listen, Ofelia.” I feel a queer jolt as his eye fixes on mine, as if he’s staring straight through me and into my soul. It’s an uncomfortable feeling. I have to force myself not to look away. “You’re going to a very dangerous place.” His tone is low and even. “But if you do as I say, you will make it out of this alive. Don’t nod. Just say yes if you understand.”
“Yes.” My tongue feels thick and heavy in my mouth.
Masha looks up at me, frowning. “Shh, Mash.” I squeeze her hand. “Just listen.”
“Good.” The rest of the convoy comes back into sight, and Alexei drops his sunglasses back down. “You’re about to meet a man called Vilnus Orlov. He’s not your friend, and he will hurt you. I think you already understand that.”
“Yes.” I fight the urge to touch the cut on my cheek. It’s stopped bleeding, but it still pulses hot pain through my entire skull.
“He will make me hurt you.” His calm tone only makes his words more horrifying. “He is not going to be happy that I got to you, and he is going to be suspicious. It’s my job to convince him that I’m on his side. That means that no matter what story I tell him when we get there, you need to pretend it’s true. It also means that when he sends me in with a knife, you need to appear terrified of me.”
I shudder. That’s hardly going to be difficult.
“The only reason I’m telling you this is to stop you doing anything stupid that might make this more dangerous than it already is. That means no sudden moves, and no argument with the story I tell him. If you work against me, I can’t help you. Do you understand?”
“Why should we trust you?” My voice is a hoarse whisper.
“Because I am the only hope you have of ever seeing your family again. And you are the only chance I have of saving mine.”
I swallow. “You said he’ll make you hurt me. What did you mean?”
“Vilnus likes knives.” His voice has not once altered from the same flat, cold tone, nor has he moved at all. “He will want me to use them on you, to prove my loyalty. If you trust me, I can make sure you are not scarred for life.” His lips harden into a thin line. “Believe me when I say I’ve had plenty of practice.”
He doesn’t need to convince me. Up close, in daylight, I can see the thin silvery scars that crisscross his face. It seems there’s barely an inch of his skin that hasn’t been touched by the knife.
I shiver, huddling back into the seat of the limo, holding Masha close.
“I can do that. But if he tells you to hurt Masha—”
“He won’t.” Alexei’s lips twist.
I frown. “Why are you so sure?”
He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something, then closes it again. “Just trust me. He won’t. But he will want to hurt you, Ofelia.” He glances out the window. “We’re nearly there. Once we’re inside the gates, you don’t ever talk to me like this unless I speak first and tell you it’s alright to do so. There are eyes and ears in every corner of the compound. All it takes is one mistake. Remember, you’re terrified of me. I was the one who cut your face back at the airport, and you’re scared I’m going to do it again. I’m the most frightening man you’ve ever met.”
Again, not hard.
“Are you going to hurt us?” Masha is staring at Alexei through narrow eyes.
“I have to.” Alexei answers her flatly, without embellishment. He flicks up his sunglasses again so his lone eye meets Masha’s. “Or at least, I have to pretend to. If you fight me, you will make it much worse than it needs to be.”
Masha glares at him.
Alexei glances at me. “You need to make her understand,” he says. “Fast.”
“Masha.” I cuddle her into my side. “Alexei is Lucia’s brother. He won’t hurt us.”
Oh, you’re sure about that, are you, Ofelia?
I swallow my own doubts. Masha needs to believe this.
“If we’re going to stay safe, we have to play a game.” I turn her face so she looks at me. “We have to pretend that Alexei is the man who cut me at the airport. We have to pretend we are very scared of him. If he uses a knife on me, you can scream and cry. But our secret is that Alexei isn’t really hurting me with his knife. Even if you see blood on my face, it’s all just pretend, okay? But nobody can know that. It’s our secret. Yours, mine, and Alexei’s. Nobody else can know, or else we will be hurt for real, like I was back at the airport. Do you understand?”
Masha’s large blue eyes study Alexei with a scrutiny that might, under other circumstances, make me laugh. “Does Luce know the secret?”
Alexei’s mouth tightens. He looks like he’s going to argue. I glare at him over Masha’s head. “Yes, Mash. Luce is part of our game.”
Masha looks confused, and my stomach twists with guilt. Better she believe the lies than give us away.
Finally, to my relief, she nods.
“Good,” Alexei says as the limo slows. He puts the screen back up, blocking Dima from view. “Because we’re here. It’s game time, ladies.”
His face is hard and cruel behind his glasses, and I shiver.
Some game.
The gates open, and we drive through them.
My first impression of the Petrovsky compound is that it’s big.
I mean, as in huge .
The driveway itself goes on for what seems like forever, through lush gardens filled with exotic flowers and big old banyan trees, the kind that have loads of roots that go down to the ground. Through the trees I can see glittering water that stretches to the horizon.
There are worse places to be kidnapped to.
I give a hiccup of nervous laughter, and Alexei glares at me.
Or maybe that’s just his resting gangster face.
Palm trees grow around a helicopter pad, which gives way to a dock.
That’s one escape route.
There’s no way I’m getting out through the front gate. The walls on either side of the entrance are solid concrete, too high and smooth to climb, and covered in barbed wire at the top, like a prison.
The limo glides to a stop in front of a large fountain. It’s made of colored stone and opens like a flower. Strange as it is to notice such a thing at a time like this, I can’t help but think how beautiful it is.
The front of the house is nothing like any home I’ve seen before, though it is similar to pictures I’ve seen of palatial houses in Russia. It has strange curved edges and oddly shaped windows, with an intricate arch over the front entrance that almost looks like it belongs on a mosque. It’s peaceful, somehow, despite the armed guards stationed at every point.
The door opens, and Alexei steps out, then holds the door for us. His face is stone-cold, with no trace of his earlier twisted smile. Part of me wonders if I imagined our entire conversation in the limo.
Armed guards fall in front of and behind us, leading us through the entrance and along a large marble corridor. It’s like being inside a museum, with large paintings on the walls and an arched ceiling overhead. There’s even a central courtyard like they have in Spain, with another fountain and scented plants all around it. We pass a huge old grandfather clock. Masha stares around her in amazement, clutching my hand.
Eventually we come to a set of double wooden doors with a big brass handle. Two armed men stop us outside and pat Alexei down efficiently.
The fat-faced man who tried to stop Alexei at the airport pushes past us, sneering unpleasantly at him as he goes.
“Let’s see who’s laughing after this, Petrovsky.”
Alexei takes off his sunglasses and hangs them from his shirt, looking at the man with as little interest as he might give to an insect.
“Men will always laugh at you, Junior. You’ve just got that kind of face.”
The two armed guards at the door smirk, then quickly compose themselves when the man called Junior scowls at them. He pushes open the doors, and we follow him inside.
There’s a big, heavy desk at one end of the large room, which has bookshelves all around the walls and brown leather couches set around a marble coffee table at the other. The man sitting behind the desk has an even fatter face than the man Alexei called Junior. They’re clearly father and son. They have the same narrow, piggish eyes and heavyset build, though the man behind the desk looks meaner than his son and is so fat his belly spills over his trousers. He’s smoking, and from the smell of the room and the overflowing ashtray on his desk, it’s far from being his first cigarette for the day.
He glares at Alexei, ignoring both Masha and me.
“Do you want to explain to me why two of my men are dead and you arrived on my plane instead of on the yacht I entrusted to you?”
“You’re lucky that plane arrived at all.” Alexei answers him with cool detachment and no hint of fear. “After the bomb you neglected to tell me about, half of Malaga’s entire force of Spanish Guardia Civil were chasing the car with the girls in it. The authorities were just about to order your plane to be grounded when I turned up.”
Okay, that’s his first lie.
The fat man blanches. Alexei nods coolly.
“Now the Guardia Civil are busy chasing an empty yacht instead of your plane. But if I hadn’t been listening to the police channel, or if I’d left it to your bunch of incompetent idiots, these two would already be safely back in their beds.” Alexei roughly pushes Masha and me forward. I stumble, falling to my knees in front of the fat man’s desk. “Your men had already given up their weapons when I turned up.”
That’s lie number two.
“I’m supposed to be in the middle of stealing a billion-dollar cyber project for you, and instead I had to drop everything to save our organization from being front-page news. Want to share why you got a second-rate pack of mobsters to set off a bomb, Vilnus, instead of just asking me to snatch these two for you?”
Vilnus Orlov. This is the man who Alexei told us about. The dangerous one.
This is the man who stole Darya’s home and kept her captive.
And that’s not all he’s done.
I’ve known the name Vilnus Orlov since the summer I was ten years old, when my parents broke up for the last time.
Vilnus sneers at Alexei. “You forget your place in this organization, dog. I don’t explain myself to you.”
“I never forget my place.” Alexei’s voice is calm and even. “I kill who you tell me to. I torture when I’m asked to. I burn and sabotage and do any other form of shit job you don’t want to dirty your hands with. Right now, I’m working night and day to steal a billion-dollar deal for you. If you wanted the Stevanovsky kids, all you had to do was ask.” Ignoring the men standing either side of him with raised guns, Alexei places his hands on the desk, leaning forward so he’s eye to eye with Vilnus. “You know there’s nothing I won’t do to get that vault open for you, just like there’s nothing I won’t stop at to steal the cyber project. I thought we were in agreement on both of those things. Instead, you set off a bomb that’s put unwanted attention on all of us. Which has also started a war with Roman Stevanovsky, right when we are poised to destroy the bastard. How does any of this help us get what we want?”
“ We .” Vilnus leans back in his chair and studies Alexei through slitted eyes, a half smile on his face. “You might have that sparrow on your hand, Petrovsky, but don’t ever think that means I trust you. You say you can steal this cyber project, but we’ve only got your word that it even exists. You say that if you can steal his pet project, Roman Stevanovsky will definitely open the vault for us in return for getting it back. If. Can. I hear a whole lot of talking, but I don’t see any real outcomes. Taking the Stevanovsky girls, on the other hand, gives us actual leverage.” His lips curl unpleasantly. “Maybe you’re right, that stealing this project will make Roman come running to open the vault. But I know that taking his children will achieve that. So you can look at it this way, Petrovsky: now, instead of having one thing to use as blackmail, we have two.” He tilts his head to one side, regarding Masha and me lazily. “Or should that be three?”
Alexei shakes his head. “I think this is a mistake. We’re not ready for a war—”
Despite being unpleasantly fat, Vilnus moves with a sudden, predatory speed that makes me jump back, leaping to his feet and slamming his meaty hands down on the desk in front of him, his face barely inches from Alexei’s.
“And that, right there, is why I didn’t ask you to get the Stevanovsky girls,” he hisses. Droplets of spit hit Alexei’s face, but I notice that he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. “How many times do I have to tell you not to think? You don’t run your family’s clan anymore, Petrovsky. I do. I have for a decade. You’re nothing more than my dog, there to do as I tell you. No more, no less. You don’t have a brain, except for the one in my head that gives you orders. Or do I need to take your other eye out to remind you of your place?”
Vilnus’s head tilts to one side, as if he’s actually considering this.
“No,” he says eventually. “What good is a blind dog?”
His men snigger.
“ If you deliver that project you keep promising me, and if you actually help open that vault, then maybe we’ll talk. But until and unless both of those things happen, you’re nothing more to me than the scum you’ve always been. The scum I’m going to make you be again, now that we have these two.” Vilnus’s eyes narrow unpleasantly as he nods at Masha and me. “You’re going to be using your knife on these two. I’ve missed watching you cut into little girls, Alexei. Remember how much fun that used to be? You might have been reluctant at first, but you got the hang of it eventually, boy, didn’t you? And it looks like you couldn’t wait to begin on this one, no?”
He eyes the cut on my face with an almost envious expression. It makes me sick.
“Oh, well. That cut on her face should make the right impression when we give Roman a call. The sooner he launches whatever attack he’s planning, the better.” He smiles coldly at Alexei. “Don’t tell me we’re not ready for war, Petrovsky. I have plans you can’t begin to imagine, with people powerful enough to bring Borovsky to his knees before you can say open fucking sesame.” He stands up and comes around the desk until he’s standing directly in front of me. He pulls Masha’s hand out of mine and thrusts her to Alexei, who holds her small body against his legs and puts a hand over her mouth when she tries to protest. I nod at her, trying to convey reassurance. She stands still in Alexei’s grasp, her wide, terrified eyes on me.
Vilnussmells of sweat and cigarettes.I have to force myself not to recoil. One large hand reaches out and grabs my breast, squeezing it hard enough to make me cry out.
“And when I’m done with that mudak Borovsky,” Vilnus says in a low, insidious voice, “I’ll make him watch while I fuck your sister in front of him. I’ve waited a long time to feel Darya Petrovsky’s tight little pussy around my cock.” Vilnus moves behind me, his hand still brutally clamped on my breast. Masha cries out and tries to run to me, but Alexei restrains her with one hand, his face entirely still.
“Then,” Vilnus goes on, his hot breath foul on my ear, “after I’ve fucked little Darya bloody, I’ll make Roman Borovsky watch while I fuck his daughter.”
Why is he calling Roman by a different name? Who is Borovsky?
And what does he mean by Roman’s daughter?
He releases me abruptly, pushing me with so much force that I fall straight into Alexei’s body. It’s like falling against a wall. Alexei doesn’t move. In fact, he’s watched the entire exchange with a face as still as a marble statue.
Vilnus glares at Alexei as he lights another cigarette. “Since you took it upon yourself to act without my orders, you’ve earned yourself babysitting duty.”
He waits, as if he’s expecting Alexei to argue, then, when the other man stays silent, his fat lips spread in a sneering smile. “Wise choice, Petrovsky. And it’s not all punishment. You can still play with that knife you like so much. Just make sure to keep your games to parts of her body that are hidden—and make sure I get to watch.”
Alexei grips my arm hard enough to make me wince. “What about the little one?” His voice is sickeningly eager, as if he can’t wait to sink his knife into Masha.
It’s a game , I remind myself. It’s pretend.
Vilnus’s mouth twists contemptuously. “You’re a sick fuck, Petrovsky, you know that? But no. You know the rules. Nobody touches my daughters except me.”
His daughters?
But I don’t have any time to absorb what that might mean, because Alexei’s knife tip is pressing into my side.
“Move.” His lips touch my ear as he speaks, and he smells sharp and dangerous, like the cold edge of a winter night. I don’t know whether to recoil or press myself against him for safety.
Instead his knife presses me toward the door, and I walk ahead of him, through the long marble corridors, then down a long set of stairs that lead to a series of underground tunnels.
I gulp the still air, trying not to let terror overwhelm me. Masha clings to me like I’m an anchor in a storm.
Finally Alexei opens a door and pushes Masha and me inside. We sprawl on the stone floor, hard enough to hurt.
The door slams closed behind us, and Masha and I are alone.