3. Chapter 3
Sasha
“Markov! Get your ass up. You’ve got mail.”
The order was followed by the sound of a baton banging against metal bars. Judging by the unfamiliarity of the voice, it was — unsurprisingly — one of the new guards. Fucker hadn’t figured out how things worked around here yet.
I was the king of this castle.
“You want to try that again?” I drawled from my spot on the cot, not moving an inch.
Kyrill, my cellmate and second-in-command, snickered from his bed above me.
“What did you say, boy?”
I snorted, cracked open an eyelid and peered at the red-faced fledgling attempting to assert his dominance. At least, I presumed it was what he was trying to do. It just looked ridiculous from where I was sitting, but who was I to judge?
Scratch that. Judging and fucking with these pitiful creatures was one of the only sources of entertainment I had in here.
“I politely asked you to repeat yourself.”
“Get up, you motherf—”
Newbie was about to make a colossal mistake when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Ferguson, one of the lieutenants, had stopped him from rushing headlong into ruin.
“Problem?” Ferguson asked casually.
The new guy was breathing heavily, his brows drawn in fury. “Markov wasn’t obeying my orders, Lieutenant.”
“I see. How about I take care of this? You go ahead and see if you can give Christian a hand with the transfer paperwork.”
Ferguson snatched our mail out of his hand and dismissed him with a nod. I watched in silence as the newbie’s face flushed with embarrassment at being dismissed so plainly by his superior.
He might have been new — and probably stupid — but he was not stupid enough to misunderstand what was happening here. Newbie narrowed his eyes at me one last time before brushing some invisible dust off his uniform and stalking away from my cell.
The bed creaked as Kyrill jumped off, hitting the concrete with a thud and towering over Ferguson. My cellmate was huge, and I wasn’t exactly small.
I was six-four, but Kyrill was a whole head taller with such a bulky frame, I constantly expected his bunk to crash down on me in my sleep.
One might wonder why we had settled on these sleeping arrangements then. As it happened, Kyrill was also claustrophobic as fuck and on the verge of losing his cool when he merely had to sit on the bottom bunk.
I wasn’t a total asshole, and even though I outranked him in here as well as out there in the real world, I didn’t assert my right. Kyrill wasn’t simply an ally; he was my best friend and loyal to death.
I valued loyalty, perhaps above all else.
“Thanks for handling him. I’ll be taking these.” My second-in-command plucked the two envelopes out of Ferguson’s grip, every syllable dripping with condescension.
Kyrill’s accent was much thicker than mine as he had actually grown up in Russia. I watched with amusement as the prison guard took a tiny step backward. None of them liked dealing with my friend — another reason why they made an effort to stay on good terms with me.
Because when Kyrill saw red, there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him. Occasionally, though, I was able to get through to him, and the guards knew as much. Things usually ended with far fewer bruises and broken bones when they left him in my hands.
Assuming I got through to him, that is.
If I didn’t, well, they’d better hope they got out of his reach quickly. Whoops.
“Now, shoo.” Kyrill dismissed Ferguson with a sneer. I saw the guard’s jaw clench, but he had a better rein on his emotions and simply turned, scampering off.
My friend’s deep, amused chuckle followed him out of our cell. Kyrill glanced down at the letters in his hand, examining them.
“This one’s for you, bratan.”
The envelope landed soundlessly on my chest and then he heaved his massive frame up onto the creaking bunk once more.
Huh. In the ten years I’d been locked up in Blackwood, I’d never received any actual mail. Anyone who knew me and wanted to contact me could do so via the cell phone, which was currently concealed in a stash built into the bed frame, so there was usually no need for this form of communication.
The paper crinkled between my fingers as I raised the envelope to examine it. An unfamiliar sensation shot through me as I realized it was her reply. I sat up, swung my legs off the edge of the bunk, and slowly tore open the envelope to take out the letter.
With my elbows braced against my thighs, I leaned forward to read Adelaide’s reply. The corner of my mouth curled up involuntarily, and I realized my eyes were literally flying across the page, devouring her words.
This was unexpected. She was unexpected.
I wasn’t necessarily a fan of surprises or unknown variables. If I hadn’t already been convinced of this girl’s potential for disaster, this letter would have confirmed it.
How can one person be so unlucky? It was a miracle this woman wasn’t dead yet.
I cracked my knuckles, crumpling the paper slightly in my fingers. I read her letter again, trying to sort through the emotions it evoked.
Amusement, worry, sympathy and something else I couldn’t quite identify yet. Again, very unexpected and not entirely welcome.
Usually, I had a pretty good grip on my emotions. I’d long since outgrown the hotheadedness of my teenage years — one of which had landed me in this place. These days, I was known for being calm and collected. Unless you crossed me, of course.
I ruled my kingdom with an iron fist because I’d learned my lesson. The choices you made determined your path, and sometimes they were irreversible. Control was everything.
Growing up, I knew the importance of names and how having the right one could open many doors. I didn’t have a single fucking thing. There was no one coming to my rescue, no second chances and no lifelines. No fucking way out.
Once you accepted that, life in here got a lot easier, and while I didn’t have the right name, I had the right blood.
When I was barely eighteen, still a free man, my mother had tried to keep my uncle as far away from me as she could. Once the prison gates had slammed shut behind me, though, her well-meaning yet misguided attempts at protecting me stayed locked away on the other side.
They found me in here — he found me — and I skidded from one pivotal, life-changing moment straight into the next. This one, however, wasn’t a burden or another sentence but a gift.
A chance I seized so fiercely and unapologetically, it changed my life’s trajectory.
I’d fought, manipulated, lied, stolen, and ultimately triumphed. Blackwood was my prison. My motherfucking castle, and I was its king.
At least for now.
Which reminded me, I needed to talk to Hunter later. I made a mental note to send him a message through our encrypted chat once it was safe to retrieve my phone.
Tucking the letter under my pillow — not because it was special, but because I had nowhere else to put it — I laid back down and closed my eyes.
No matter how hard I tried to resume my nap, I couldn’t stop thinking about Adelaide. My fucking brain wouldn’t shut up about her, circling endless questions her letter had raised.
She sounded exhausting, like she’d never shut up and always had some obscure story to tell based on all the stupid shit apparently endlessly happening to her. Take her letter alone; the majority of it was her rambling.
Adelaide, I decided, had way too much to say. I avoided attachments at every turn. Kyrill and Hunter, my stepbrother, were the only people I considered myself close to. These days they were the only ones who actually knew me.
There came a certain point when you rose in the ranks of an organization like the Bratva where you had to learn to keep emotional distance.
I couldn’t go soft over a fucking letter from some random girl, no matter how intriguing she might be.
All Adelaide had to do was provide entertainment while I waited for the right moment. It was a way of keeping the counselor off my back and, in turn, pretending to the warden and the board I was trying to better myself.
Yet, for some reason, I found myself sliding the letter into my pocket and carrying it around with me every day. In here, anything you kept could be taken from you, so I kept it on me.
It was mine, plain and simple.
The letter, of course. Not Adelaide.