One Flew Over the Omega’s Nest, Part Three (TwistedVerse #3)

Prologue - Kole

Fifteen Years Ago

Mama’s voice wakes me in the dead of the night. “ Nikolai. You must wake. Get up, moy mal'chik.”

I blink, taking in the outline of Mama’s face as she looks at me sternly. Her black hair is pulled back neatly, and she is fully dressed, which is an odd occurrence for three in the morning.

My confusion melts away as it occurs to me what must be happening. “Mama? Has Papa sent for me? Am I finally going to America?” It is something he has told me of often during his visits. That when I become a man, he will bring me to live with him so I can learn his business under my brothers.

My birthday is not for another three days, but perhaps Papa is too excited to have me come live with him.

Mama’s face turns stony for only a moment before she huffs a breath.

“Yes, we must hurry, Nikolai. You know your father does not like to be kept waiting.” Nodding quickly, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

When Mama sees that I’m not going to go back to sleep, she leaves my room, muttering to herself.

Heart racing, I quickly dress and grab a duffel bag from the closet to start packing clothes.

Surely Papa will have the rest of my things sent to America.

Or maybe he will buy me a whole new wardrobe when I get there.

After all, Papa is a very important businessman, and he will need his son to look the part as well.

I pause at my desk, looking at the nice set of charcoal pencils Mama gave me for Christmas.

I deliberate for a moment before stuffing them into the bag with the rest of my things.

Scanning the rest of my room for anything I may have missed, my eyes linger on the small stuffed fox I have had since I was a baby.

No.

I shake my head, hiking my bag onto my shoulder. I am a man now, if Papa has sent for me. I do not need small stuffies meant for babies.

My ears perk up at the sound of a man’s voice coming from the living room. We have a decent amount of space for a two-bedroom apartment in Moscow, but the walls are as thin as paper.

Who could be here? Has Papa come for me himself?

Thinking that I should look my best for him, I fix my hair in the mirror next to my door.

But then…a loud thud.

My heart starts racing.

Angry yelling.

Ice settles over my veins.

It is not Mama who is yelling.

The sound of rushing blood fills my ears as I throw my door open and race down the short hall. What has happened?

Another thud.

When I round the corner, my heart stops.

The front door is open, and Mama is sprawled on the floor.

“Mama!” I cry, rushing over to her. “Mama, wake up!” I shake her motionless body as I kneel down. “Please!” Red blood pools beneath her, stealing my breath away.

She does not move.

She’s…she can’t be. Is she…dead? My heart shatters as I hold her hand, willing her to wake up. She cannot be dead. I won’t accept it.

There is a shift of movement by the door, and it’s only at that moment I see the second body, lying face down. A man.

Is he the one who did this to Mama?

He groans, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes widen as he coughs, his voice weak. “Nik—”

“Nikolai!” A vaguely familiar voice barks out, and I startle, looking up to see a dark figure in the doorway.

“Alexei?” Papa’s right-hand man. He must have been the one who was coming to take me to America. I’ve never much liked him, but if Papa trusts him, then so do I. “Help, please, Mama…she’s—”

“Dead,” he barks, stepping into the apartment. “There is nothing you can do for her now but avenge her death—caused by this man. You must not cry, boy.”

I blink, registering for the first time the wetness on my cheeks. “What do you mean? Why would he kill her?”

“He is an enemy of your father.” He nudges the man on the ground with his foot. It looks like he’s passed out, because he doesn’t move. “He would have killed you too if I hadn’t come. I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time to save your mother.”

More tears sting my eyes as I look down at Mama. Her chest does not rise or fall, and the pool of blood below her still grows.

“Come.” Alexei yanks me up by the arm and shoves a pistol into my hand. “You must avenge her death. You must not shame the Vasiliev name.”

Sniffling, I look down at the gun in my hand, the metal cold and heavy. More tears sting my eyes. “I don’t know how.” And really, I don’t want to kill anyone. Shouldn’t we call the Politsiya?

“Just point it and pull the trigger,” he orders, shoving my shoulder. My stomach roils in protest, and I swallow roughly.

“But Alexei, why—” My words cut off as a sharp slap whips my head to the side.

“Do it!” His face is turning red with anger, even as something sad shines behind his eyes.

My lip wobbles as I lift my hand, aiming the gun at the man. “This…this is what Papa would want?” I ask, my voice small. Tears blur my vision, and my hand shakes. “He will be proud of me if I do this?”

“As long as you listen to me, Nikolai, your father will always be proud of you.” His large hand grips my shoulder, and I let out a shaky breath before nodding once.

Then, tears still in my eyes, I pull the trigger.