3. Sofia
SOFIA
He’s got me bent over the bar, my dress pulled up and my panties around my ankles. He’s so deep inside me…
He pulls my hair and yanks my head back, his hot breath on my ear as he whispers, “You like that?” He thrusts hard, and the sweet pain pleasure sensation rips through me. “You like this monster cock, baby?”
I can’t speak. The words won’t come. He growls against my cheek as he fucks me even harder…
I’m so close… I’m… I’m about to…
My eyes pop open as I gasp for breath. The scenery around me melts away and I’m facing the hazy light coming through the dirty curtains of the motel. I’m clutching the sheets around me, my heart pounding… and my thighs slick under the covers.
Shit. It was just a dream… and some kind of dream it was.
I sit up in bed and run my hand over my face. Of all the sex dreams I could have had, why did I have one about the man who killed my father? As if I would ever.
It’s hot in this room. There’s not much to it. A bed with a dirty comforter folded at its end, an old wooden nightstand, no TV, stained wallpaper, and the faint smell of cigarettes and God knows what else sticking to the carpet and curtains.
This motel sits just outside the city. We stopped here because we don’t really have anywhere else to go. Last night, we both collapsed from exhaustion. I took the bed and Adam…
I turn to the chair sitting next to the bed. It’s empty, nothing but the blanket he left behind draped over the arms.
Oh, shit. Where did he go?
Just as I think that, the door opens and he walks in.
He’s wearing a dingy-looking T-shirt and jean shorts and a baseball cap pulled over his face.
He’s also carrying a couple of plastic bags in each hand.
He closes the door and glances over at me before going to the window and peering out. “You’re up. It’s about time.”
“Where did you go?” I ask him.
He sets the bags down on the floor. “Provisions. We can’t go on the run in eveningwear.”
I glance down at the bra and panties I’m wearing, half covered with the dubious looking sheets on the bed. I pull it up a little as Adam sets one of the bags down.
“I didn’t know your size,” he says, “so these might be a little big on you.”
I reach into the bag. A T-shirt and jeans, a pair of creased white sneakers and socks. “You went to a store for these?”
“Of sorts,” he says with a shrug. “There’s a second-hand place down the street. I also stopped by the convenience store and got some food. It’s not much, but it’ll do until we can get somewhere safer than this.”
I nod as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. He watches me in silence for a few seconds.
“This is bad, right?” he says. “I mean… really bad. Defcon five?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe even Endgame protocol.”
He nods stiffly, his head bobbing up and down in a short movement. “I’ve been trying to think of someone we can get to. Some relative that lives far enough away. I’m coming up empty.”
I sit and think for a moment. “We’ve got family in Russia. I doubt we could get there, though. Those men, they’ll be looking for us at the airport or anyplace that might take us out of the country.”
“Dad has…” He pauses, then, “had a private jet, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’d have to get to it and…” I have to stop. I haven’t given myself a chance to really think all this through, what it all really means. I take a breath and say, “Sit down, Adam.”
He blinks and a sort of panic fills the blue in his eyes. He sits on the bed.
“We need to get comfortable with a few things right now if we’re going to survive this,” I say. “The men who killed Papa and everybody else at the party? They were Bratva.”
He swallows hard. “How do you know?”
I just look at him. He knows as well as I do. We grew up in this shit. He looks away for a moment and tries again.
“Okay, so it’s a rival Bratva. That’s… bad.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t know what Papa did to bring this down on us, but what happened was… last night was a bespredel, or a liquidation, maybe. They were killing everyone. Our family, Papa’s Bratva, everyone. That probably means that they’re not going to stop until everyone’s dead.”
He suddenly looks as pale as paper. “I’ve, uh, I’ve heard stories of stuff like this. A Pakhan deciding to wipe out somebody’s bloodline .” He shakes his head as tears appear in his eyes. “They’ll never stop coming for us.”
“No. I don’t think there is a place on earth where we could run and be safe. Not even in Russia.”
He takes a few moments to take that in. Finally, he wipes at his face and says softly, “Shit.”
“Tell me about it.”
I give him a few seconds to get himself together. I’ve already got a plan in mind and he’s not going to like it, but we need to talk it out.
“They’ll be waiting for us anywhere we try to run to,” I say. “It’s been at least twelve hours since everything happened. So, airports, train and bus lines will probably be crawling with them. If they haven’t already, they’ll come looking for us at these little motels.”
“Shit,” he says again. “What… what do we do? What can we do?”
“The way I see it, there’s only one thing we can do, Adam. We have to fight back. We need to avenge Papa.”
He gives me a wide-eyed glare. “Are you insane? Sof—”
“We’re owed that, Adam,” I tell him. “This Bratva killed our entire family, destroyed Papa’s legacy, and they’re coming for us next. Even if we do run, we can’t do it forever.”
He stands and starts pacing. “I know, I know. But, Jesus, Sof, there are two of us. Against an army?”
“We don’t have to kill every man. In fact, the way I see it, we only have to kill one man. The Pakhan. We cut off the head, the rest of the beast will die.”
He stops pacing and crosses his arms. With pursed lips, he shakes his head stiffly.
“Adam, you know I’m right. We find out who these assholes are and find them. If I can get my hands on a sniper rifle, I can end all this in one shot.”
He rolls his eyes. “Goddammit, Sof. Okay, okay. So, where do we start?”
I sigh, looking at the bag. “Let me shower and think about it. There has to be somewhere friendly that we can go where we can get info and maybe some armaments.”
He nods as I get out of bed, taking the bag with me. “Stasio,” he says suddenly. “Maybe Stasio?”
I stop at the door. Stasio has been the go-to for all of the guns that my father owned. He was also the man who first taught me how to shoot. If his shop isn’t a friendly shop, I don’t know where else is. “Yeah,” I say. “We’ll start there. By now, he’s probably heard something. Good looking out.”
I go into the bathroom and pause at the mirror. The makeup I had on has smeared into a black mess, giving me raccoon eyes. My lipstick has faded, and my skin looks pallid.
Right. Shower and get my shit together. Then we set about taking our freedom.
It’s around noon as we sit in the car and watch the front of the gun shop. Everything looks like a normal day in the neighborhood. I don’t see any strange cars, nor do I see any suspiciously tattooed men meandering around anywhere.
“What do you think?” Adam asks. He’s got his baseball cap on, the bill lowered over his face. I’ve got on a cap as well, my hair tied up in a bun over top of it. I wish we had some sunglasses as well. Every little bit helps when trying to hide from legit killers.
“It looks safe enough,” I say. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We get out of the car and into the oppressive heat of the day.
The neighborhood this shop’s in is a little rundown.
There’s an abandoned building just adjacent to us and the other shops around have old, poorly kept fronts.
The gun shop is the only one that looks more like a fortress than anything.
We pass by a large concrete wall and make it to the metal door, both of us dipping into the doorway. I press the buzzer.
“We’re closed,” Stasio’s voice says over the intercom.
“Stasio,” I say, “It’s Sofia Aristov. You know, Little Sofie?”
A pause and I think maybe he didn’t hear me. I go to press the button again, but his voice stops me. “Are you alone?”
“No. Adam’s with me.”
Another pause, then the door buzzes to let us in.
The store is empty. Most of the walls are lined with display models of semiautomatic rifles of all sorts.
Glass cases filled with handguns and accessories line the aisle leading to the front desk.
Right behind that desk is a door leading to the gun range.
As we walk in, I can almost smell the gunpowder.
The door opens and Stasio walks through. He pulls off a pair of white ear protectors and it musses his long jet-black hair momentarily. He smiles and his weathered face responds, dozens of wrinkles around his mouth and eyes moving upward in unison.
“Little Sofie,” he says in his thick Italian accent. He walks up to me and takes my shoulders, kissing me on each cheek. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” He turns to Adam and pats him on the shoulders. “Both of you. News of what happened is all over the city. I must tell you, I thought the worst.”
“We’re fine. Well, fine-ish,” I tell him. “Do I need to ask you for help?”
“Never,” he says. “Anything for Marius. God rest his soul. Whatever you need, I can provide.”
I nod and a wash of relief comes over me. I never thought I’d be so happy to see a friendly face.
“If you need a place to stay,” he says, “I have a small room upstairs where the two of you can hide out until you figure out what you’re going to do next or where you plan to go. Do you have money?”
“Yes, money we have.”
“I wouldn’t use anything but cash for a while if you can help it. These Bratva types can be crafty and you don’t want to be tracked.” He leads us back to the front desk. “If you’re not armed, I can loan you some decent weapons.”
“I’m afraid we’re going to need something a little above decent,” I say to him. “We’ve already got a plan of action, Stasio.”
He looks at me and his bushy black eyebrows lift up. “Oh?” Then he frowns. “Oh, Sofia. You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do?”
“We don’t have a choice. They wiped out my family, everyone. They’ll kill us too if we don’t stop them.”
He leans against the desk and suddenly, he looks even older than he usually does. “Dio mio,” he mutters. “You’re going to get yourselves killed. These men, they live and breathe blood. And their numbers—”
“Let us worry about that. All we need are weapons and to know who and where they are. We know they’re Bratva, but that’s it. Can you give us any other information? I know you’ve heard something about them by now.”
His lips tighten into a thin line and for a few seconds, I don’t think he’s going to tell me anything. He says, “There is no way I can convince you not to do this? None at all?”
“You can’t hide us forever,” I say with a shrug. “It’s going to come to this no matter what we do. And besides all that, we’re owed our vengeance. At least if we attack them first, we might get the jump on them.”
He nods slowly. “Come with me, then.”
He turns and walks through the door leading to the range. We follow him and we walk down the long hallway just before the range. The window in the wall shows us six or seven empty stalls and a cement wall full of holes down on the other end.
“The men you are seeking,” he says as we come to a metal door on the other side of the hall, “are from a Bratva called the Arkhangelskaya or Archangels on the street.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, finding one and using it to open the door.
“If you are going to go against them,” he says as he turns on the light, “You’ll need serious firepower.”
The light flickers on and we’re in a room with dozens of rifles on the wall. Brand new M-16s, AR-475s, and 500s… Things I’ve only seen in magazines and online.
“I wish I could offer you more bodies,” he says. “The two of you against the Archangels…”
“Just show me to the sniper rifles,” I tell him.