10. The Safer Safehouse
Chapter 10
The Safer Safehouse
This safe house is a gilded cage, like a prison of good intentions—but a prison nonetheless. Alexander hasn’t let me leave since that night, and his concern is like a suffocating blanket that wraps around me, tightening with every passing hour.
I’ve been training, pushing myself to the limit, my muscles screaming in pain at every practice. For the past few weeks, the girls—Zara, Lena, Tatiana, Anna, and a handful of others—have become my family, a band of warriors fighting for the same cause. We’re a team.
Alexander has become a ghost in the house. I’ve moved into the same room as him. He sleeps beside me, but there’s a chasm yawning between us, a chasm that’s as deep as the ocean and cold as the Arctic. He’s quiet at breakfast, his eyes fixed on some distant horizon. He disappears for hours, and I don’t know where he goes or what he’s fighting. He’s drowning in his demons, and his silence, his detachment, is a slow poison.
I haven’t told him what we’re training for. He’ll never let me go.
Zara and I are huddled together in her room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp hits the worn wooden floorboards, making them look like a shimmering lake. The structural plans of the beauty shop and Kitty’s Port Bar are spread out between us, a jumble of lines and ink that holds the promise of taking down Nikolai. Or so I hope.
Anna, the girl in the T-shirt, smuggled the plans inside the ranch to us, using a guard who owed her a favor. She’s got a lot of guts, that girl.
“Zara, I’m not sure this is the best entrance point,” I say, tracing my finger across the faded ink of the plans. The upper right corner has the logo of Port Haven City Hall. “The security at the club will be tight.”
“I think yes, slatka ,” Zara says, her Russian accent thick.
“ Slatka ?” I frown. “Can you just tell me what it means?”
“It means sweetie in Russian,” she says. “We miss internet in here, da? ”
“ Da, Zara,” I say, my lips curling upwards. “ Zara —” I taste the word, “is that even your real name?”
“ Da ,” Zara says. “Or, like in English, Sarah.”
My heart stutters. Like my Sarah. My mind flees to her meeting with Cole, the unsettling image flashing in my mind. It’s still there, a constant ache, but as long as she’s safe, I’m okay.
The scent of lavender and vanilla hangs in the air, a sweet, almost suffocating aroma that I’ve gotten used to lately after spending hours on end with Zara in here. I try to focus on the plans, but my thoughts drift to Cole, and I wonder what he wants with my other Sarah.
“Okay, so we need to get into the club undetected,” I say, focusing on the plans of Kitty’s Port Bar. “Maybe we can use the back entrance, the one by the loading dock.”
The one I escaped from.
Zara shakes her head. Her long dark hair cascades down her back, framing her sharp features. Her shoulders are broad and robust.
“ Niet , ragdoll. Too risky.”
“Alright, so what do you suggest?” I continue. “Just walk right in the main entrance?”
“Good think, da, ” Zara says. “And maybe we use busy night to help us. Get lost in the crowd, sneak in when everyone’s eyes are in—other places. We many beautiful girls, women. They like that club. Nikolai likes beautiful women.”
“Yes—” I say. I see Nikolai caressing my cheeks, his hungry eyes on me in my mind’s eye.
I shake myself back to reality, and we continue brainstorming, laying out potential entry points, diversion tactics, and the best way to take down Nikolai Romanov.
Without noticing, the door creaks open, interrupting our plans. The hinges groan, a chilling sound that makes my blood run cold.
My face drains of all color, leaving me ashen and drained. Shit.
Katerina stands in the doorway, her gaze piercing, her eyes like ice. She’s watching us, her face a mask of disapproval. How long has she been standing there? Her gray hair is pulled back in a tight bun, framing her weathered face. She lets out an exasperated sigh, a deep furrow forming between her eyebrows.
I see Zara shifting on the squeaky bed next to me. The coils are worn, and I feel the metal through the mattress.
Katerina has been eavesdropping. How much has she heard?
“Your secrets?” she snaps. “We can’t have secrets within our walls. It break the house!”
Her fingers drum impatiently on the doorframe table like a rhythmic, irritated beat. The corners of her mouth turn downward in a subtle frown.
Zara, more or less unfazed by Katerina’s intrusion, says, “We know, mamma .” Her voice is calm. “But we need to do this, devushka in there. Many. And Nikolai Romanov—there.”
Katerina stops, her hand hovering on the door. She rubs her chin like a puppet master preparing for his show. “Romanov—” She chews on the word, a flicker of something in her eyes.
“Don’t tell Alexander, Katerina, please,” I say.
Katerina rolls her eyes, a gesture that seems to mock my fear. She furrows her brows and steps closer.
“How can mamma help?” she asks.
I let out a breath of relief. Katerina sits down beside me on the creaking bed. She smells like lilies. I push down my nausea and scootch over, making room for her between Zara and me. The scent is revolting, but I hold myself. I’m not going to let bad memories of my dead parents destroy this.
“We take out Romanov,” Zara says, narrowing her eyes.
“When? How?” Katerina rasps. “He’s not someone you mess with.”
“We plan for weeks, mamma ,” Zara says, her gaze steady. There’s a silent promise in her eyes. “Trust me.”
Katerina nods, her brows furrowed.
“We strike tomorrow,” I add, “Every day he operates, more and more women are disappearing. Shipped out, I assume, via the Raven and the EverBlue Shipping Group.”
The thought of those girls trapped in a nightmare, their lives forever changed, makes my anger rise like molten lava.
“I get you car ride and guns,” Katerina says, her gaze sharp. “ Mamma is proud. You both.” She strokes my cheek with a dry, callous hand.
"Thank you, Katerina," I say, and Zara nods in agreement. For once, she actually agrees with me. Who would have thought?
I yawn, exhausted but strangely energized. As I get up, my hand brushes against my jeans, and I realize I’m wearing the pants that hold the newspaper article I found back at my apartment. It feels like a lifetime ago. I’d completely forgotten about it.
I pull it out, smoothing the frayed edges.
“Zara, can you translate it?” I pause, “Every word, please.”
She nods, her eyes focused on the article. “What is?”
“Just an article,” I say. “I found it at my place, my apartment. Someone left it behind. Maybe it will give us some answers about—something. I mean, I doubt it, but—”
“ Da , I read for you,” Zara says, yanking the newspaper article from my outstretched hand. “Sit.”
Sighing, Zara translates into broken English, and the missing words connect in my mind instantly after over a month in the safe house:
“Shadow Vessel Flees Russian Waters.”
A vessel believed to be carrying several individuals wanted for various crimes in Russia made its way out of Vladivostok harbor this morning with a reported course toward the United States.
The vessel, dubbed “The Black Swan,” was pursued by Russian authorities, but the ship was too fast and equipped with the latest anti-detection technology. Despite the pursuit, “The Black Swan” successfully evaded capture, making its way out with a lengthy passenger list of both Russian and non-Russian citizens wanted for crimes ranging from fraud and embezzlement to more serious offenses like murder and treason. The vessel is expected to arrive at its intended destination in the next few days, most likely Port Haven, a major port city on the East Coast of the United States. Authorities are currently working to intercept the ship and apprehend the individuals on board.
A complete list of passengers on the vessel:
Boris Volkov
Sergei Romanova
Olga Romanova (minor)
Pavel Ivanov
Mikhail Rostov (former interior minister)
Victoria Vladivostok
Boris Slatnik
Yanay Horowitch
Ivan Agapov
Yuri Agapov
Sergei Blok (captain)
Svetlana Gorbachev
Yan Petrov
Elena Petrov (nine months pregnant)
“John Petrov?” I say, reacting to the name Zara has just read aloud. The word hangs in the air, a tiny spark igniting in my mind.
“No, Yan,” Zara corrects, her brow furrowed.
I nod, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me. Zara means Sarah. She told me that much. So does that mean—“Yan means John in English?”
“Sometimes,” Zara says cocking her head. “Why?”
“Nothing,” I say, my face pale. “I need to go to sleep.”
I leave the room and go down the hall, my mind spinning. Yan Petrov, John Petrov. Does Petrov mean—Parker?
John Parker. My father’s name. Another name leaps out of the article: Elena Petrov. Elena—Elaine. My mother’s name was Elaine Parker.
My breath catches in my throat. It’s like the world just flipped on its axis.
My parents. John and Elaine Parker.
My heart slams against my ribs as I look at the date on the article. 2nd of April, and the year—I swallow hard. The ship left Russia two weeks before I was born. With a pregnant woman named Elena Petrov to Port Haven. I shake my head. It can’t be.
But deep down, I know it’s true. The ground beneath me feels shaky and unstable. It’s like the world’s spinning, the rug pulled out from under my feet.
Someone from Veles Network didn’t drop the newspaper clip. It was my father’s all along. A truth so gut-wrenching, a secret so deep, that he must have hidden it from me all those years in his old papers back home. I can almost feel the sting of betrayal, the shock that cuts through me like a knife.
The world around me seems to tilt, and everything I thought I knew about my identity and my past is shifting.
My parents, my story, my entire existence – everything is different now.
And I have a lot of questions.
My parents came from Russia . I’m Russian. Ava, or is it Anya? Am I Anya Petrov?
I lay down in my bed, staring at the ceiling.