Chapter Thirty-Six
In which Oksana does the completely logical thing.
Oksana…
"Stop!" Stepan says, just as my hand cracks across his face.
"No! I won't stop! You left him there," I scream. "They're going to torture him to death. You left him there. Take me back! This is my fault."
"Vadim will kill me if I take you back," he snaps. "Listen to me." He gives me a little shake. "In the Turgenev Bratva, there is always a contingency plan. Do you really think my family would allow this?"
"He could die by the time you get everyone together." I'm sobbing now. Terrified. My knees are shaking, and I lean against the wall to keep standing.
"No. They won't kill him right away." His face is bleak. "They'll want to make an example of him."
We're at Stepan's home, the closest place to reconnect with the Turgenev security force. Men are moving back and forth behind us, placing calls, speaking in hushed whispers.
"This can't be happening," I whisper. My hands fly to my hair, yanking on it.
I want to pretend this isn't real, but a painful sting from my scalp tells me that I am very much in the here and now.
"Okay," I say, trying to focus. "You're talking to your family.
Have some of your men take me over to mine.
We're allies. The Vasiliev Bratva is required to stand with you.
My father has three hundred men here in Moscow! " I laugh a little wildly.
Stepan nods, gesturing to Gavrill, his Second, giving him orders to take me to my father's house. "Make sure she's safely inside before leaving. Contact the Vasiliev security, tell them she's on the way."
"Before you go, Oksana, take this," he says, pulling a Smith & Wesson from his desk drawer. "Do you know how to use it?"
"Yes," I nod, checking the safety before slipping it into my bag. Before I leave, I grab his arm. "Please let me know what's happening." I hold up my phone. "Please don't keep me in the dark. He's my husband."
"I know," he says, just before his stern expression crumbles. "He's also my brother."
The drive back to my parents' home is silent.
I'm rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep all the parts of me from flying away into the atmosphere.
My rage and my terror are cycling inside me, and there's nothing I can do to stop them.
I rock a little faster, trying to drive the image out of my mind.
All those men had looked so excited to kill the legendary Angel of Death.
"Father!" I shout, shoving our butler Grischa aside before he can get the door all the way open. "Father, where are you?" My voice echoes down the chilly marble hallway, I race for his study. "Father!" I scream, pounding on the door until it rattles.
Nikolai rips it open, the fury on his face turns to concern when he sees me. "Oksana?" He wraps his arms around me, but I shove away. "What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"
Our father is at his desk. Oh, he loves his desk.
It's huge, stretching halfway across the room, slightly elevated to make sure everyone knew he was the Pakhan.
As a child, I would have to stand in front of it and feel even tinier, even more insignificant.
Even as an adult, I could never get over that helpless fear when I was called in to face him.
Now, I tear across the room and slam my hands down on his desk, sending papers flying. "Vadim's been taken," I shout, right in his face. "We are allies. You- you need to contact Konstantin this second and offer our assistance. This has to be done now!"
"Take your fucking hands off my desk." Father is unruffled, though the look in his eye is murderous.
"Did you hear me?" I ask incredulously. "Your main concern is fingerprints smudging your desk and not that my husband has been captured and is likely being tortured?"
Nikolai swiftly steps over to me, helping me sit down. "Sestra, explain this."
I stumble through it all, who the monsters are, what they've done. How my husband instantly offered his life for mine.
"You caused this mess yourself," Father says heavily. "You're fortunate that your husband was willing to take your place."
"Are you insane?" I snarl.
Even Nikolai is looking at our father in shock, though I don't know why. Does it really surprise him?"
"We are allied with the Turgenev Bratva," I say.
It's taking every ounce of my control to keep from leaping over the desk and smashing his face in with his bronze paperweight.
God knows he's thrown it at me enough times over the years.
"That was why we were married, remember?
We need to send men. We need them now. You need to call Konstantin and Alexi, and -"
"I'll do no such thing," he snaps. "This is a domestic issue. Not one that concerns our Bratva."
Nikolai leans in, "Pakhan, this is -"
"Silence!" Father snarls. He looks at me with the familiar disgust. "You've always managed to escape unscathed, haven't you, daughter? No matter how much inconvenience it caused to other people."
"What are you saying? This is your daughter," Nikolai growls.
I can't feel my feet or my hands. My head has a funny, floating feeling, like a balloon, held to my body by a thin string. It might snap and float away. "This is about the kidnapping, isn't it?" I ask bitterly.
"Do you know how much trouble you caused me?
" he shouts. "Finally, you had an opportunity to be useful.
Of course, I wasn't going to ransom you," he's spitting the words out like bullets, like he's waited forever to scream them at me.
"I was going to blame your kidnapping on the Balabanovs.
I had enough evidence falsified, ready to present it to the Council of the Six and then go to war against them.
I would have had all of the Balabanov mining and mineral shares! And then you turned up, rescued."
Oh, that fragile string keeping my head with my body is getting thinner.
Nikolai slumps back in his chair, running his hand over his face. "You refused to ransom your daughter?" he asks slowly, incredulously. "She was ten years old, Father! She was tortured." Now, Nikolai's the one who slams his hands on the desk. "And you left her there?"
"She would have finally been useful!" My father's lips are wet, and rubbery-looking. There's a vein pulsing on his forehead.
He's not as fit as he used to be, I think, dimly. This might send him into cardiac arrest. But probably not soon enough.
"You must have been so disappointed when I turned up alive," I say calmly. "Mother told me you had been searching for me all along, but that was just a pretty story to make me feel better, wasn't it?"
"Your mother is as pathetic and useless as you are," he snarls.
I think about the King's gambit, about sliding my pawn forward. And I smile. "So, Pakhan, no longer my father but head of the Vasiliev Bratva, you are choosing to abandon a valued ally. One that you pledged your loyalty to. Is that what you're saying?"
"As Pakhan, I have no choice," he says, regarding me with contempt. "I will not risk the lives of my men for your stupidity, and your interference with the other families."
I nod thoughtfully. "All right."
My hand is in my purse. I don't remember when I put it there, my fingers are curved around the handle of the gun, and I pull it out, aiming it at his red, furious face.
I'm a good shot. I practice a fair amount. When I fire, a bullet hole drills right through his forehead.
There is a look of almost comical surprise on my father's face, like he can't accept that he's already dead, before he falls forward. He hits hard, blood splattering across his precious desk.
"Oksana, what the fuck?” Nikolai shouts, stumbling back in horror.
"He wasn't my father," I say, standing up. The gun is still in my hand, and now I point it at Nikolai. He glances at it incredulously and back at me. "You're Pakhan now. Are you going to honor the Turgenev alliance?"
"Give me that." He rips the gun out of my hand impatiently before I can blink, pulling out the ammo clip and tossing it on the desk.
He puts his hands on his hips, walking in a circle before looking back at me.
"I don't know how we will handle Father's 'tragic' death," he says, not sparing the cooling body a glance.
"But as for the Vasiliev Bratva, we honor our commitments. "
A half-hysterical little laugh escapes me. "You finally found your footing, moy brat."
Vivid self-disgust creases his face. "Much later than I should have, sestra. I didn't know. About the kidnapping, he'd told us that he was searching tirelessly for you."
"I know, Nikky." It's been a long time since I've used his nickname, what I used to call him when I was too young to pronounce Nikolai.
He straightens his jacket, smooths back his hair and then, he calls for Maks and two of his lieutenants to come in.
Maks is stunned, standing in the middle of the room, staring at our father's corpse while Nikolai is already on the phone, calling Vadim's father.
"Wrap the body," he tells the lieutenants. "Scour the desk clean. Take it downstairs until I decide what to do with it."
The expressionless men obey him, fetching a tarp and wrapping the body up into a tidy package. I recognize them, Iosif and Leon, they work directly under Nikolai. As they're carrying it out, Iosif whispers to Leon. "Excellent shot. Minimal brain matter or blood."
"Shut the fuck up," Leon hisses. "Not the time, you fool."
Shouldn't I be horrified at what I've done? I'm a killer now. Maybe I will feel it later, when Vadim is safe.
As they return with cleaning products, Nikolai walks out of the room, Maks and I trailing after him. He takes over Mother's empty office. It's mildly incongruous to see him sitting behind her desk on her flower-patterned chair.
"Sit down, let's concentrate," he says grimly.
"Wait. Where is Mother?" I ask.
Nikolai impatiently waves his hand. "Visiting Tetya Nika. It's good that she isn't here, we'll have time to create a proper explanation."