1
Ophelia
Shivering as the door flung open, gushing cold air into the room, I curled up tighter. This concrete box wasn’t a place I’d ever expected to find myself in. Exhaling shakily, I could almost see my breath— or was that just simple delirium? My thin clothes weren’t designed to protect against the cold, and I scowled lightly as I forced my eyes off my knees.
Aleksander Makovich was leaning casually on the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed…the absolute epitome of power seeping from every pore on his skin.
He looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him, but now— I was his enemy. Now, his demeanor was closed off, eyes sharp and guarded heavily.
His stubbled jaw set hard, his gaze throwing daggers on my frigid skin as he scanned the small space. “Get up.”
My body moved even as my mind clung to the floor. I just wanted to melt into concrete and hope Aleksander didn’t notice me. Goosebumps rose long my bare arms and under my jeans, as my toes flexed in my sneakers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that my dad held my mom around the shoulders, but I didn’t dare look directly at them.
What kind of terrible parents put their children in mortal danger knowingly? Bitterness clouded my eyes and stained my tongue. How could two old people who had a good lot in life just ruin it so damned easily? This was a question I’d never have the answer to, I knew. In a few short hours, my parents were only going to be memories.
“So… I’m just curious, which one of you actually took the shot against Vyachaslav and missed?” Aleksander asked.
I kept my head down, not even trying to push my hair back in the hopes of keeping Aleksander’s attention off me. His eyes could kill and I ground my teeth hard at the edge in his tone.
The loaded question hung in the air, suffocating my parents and brother.
If someone spoke up, ratted out… it wouldn’t matter and everyone knew it. Most likely, Aleksander knew the answer to his question already. He just wanted to see what would happen if he dangled hope in front of our eyes.
“If you get the answer right, you get a prize,” Aleksander spoke again.
“I did it.”
My eyelids fluttered closed at my dad’s declaration bouncing against my skull. Leaning against the wall, my skin burned from the cold, and I puffed out a thick sigh. The silence that followed was torture in itself, and my gut tightened into knots. An icy sweat slickened my skin, but there was no reason to be anxious.
Here, in this room, I had only two outcomes. I walk out or I don’t. All because my daddy decided it’d be a good idea to connive and try to move up the oiled pole.
“Is that your way of protecting your son from his own idiocy?” Aleksander queried in a dry tone. “As far as I’m concerned, the only person here that’s not heading for the chopping block today is Ophelia.”
The sound of my own name fired off signals in my brain, and I cracked my eyes open. Blearily glancing up, I bit my inner cheek.
Aleksander scoffed loudly, “Please, don’t insult me more than you already have,” he went on. “Don’t you think the Avernisk’s tried to give me information to save their own lives? It didn’t work, of course, but it made things go by quicker. I know Yysev pulled the trigger. It’d be even more impressive if he hit his actual target, not the body double.”
“Don’t take out our mist—“
Aleksander held up a hand to silence my dad, his lips twisting into a nasty sneer.
I felt so tired; there was absolutely no reason to say anything right now. Aleksander Makovich probably plotted out his course of action on the train to Moscow, long before we’d ever met in person. Despite however long it’d been, I still couldn’t wrap my head around what my parents had tried to do.
I mean, who tries to kill any Makovich, let alone the Patriarch, and fails?
“You’re going to kill us, so just do it. But I’d appreciate it if I could call my boyfriend and tell him I love him,” I finally spoke as my voice scratched my throat.
Those hard, brown eyes turned to me to flash in curiosity.
Straightening to smooth my shirt, I nodded more to myself than to him. The incredible sadness I felt only struck my eyes, the ache unbearable as I blinked hard. “If you’re not going to kill us in this room, I would like to call my boyfriend.”
“You’re thinking of that plokhaya krov’ at a time like this! Ophelia!”
My mother’s strangled hiss fell on deaf ears, as I held Aleksander’s gaze firmly.
Slowly, the spark of interest brightened in those dark eyes.
I knew—I knew I had no right to ask him anything, but this was better than pleading fruitlessly for my life. If the most powerful man in Russia wanted me dead, I was in no position to argue.
“Envre, your cell phone.”
She handed it to him. He then held my phone out to me.
Tears welled in my eyes at this and my throat tightened to block my lungs. My trembling intensified even as the cold vanished from my scope of comprehension. Shuffling across the room, I carefully reached for the smartphone offered to me.
Aleksander snatched it back slightly, almost playfully. He smirked grimly to thicken the goosebumps blanketing my skin. “Three minutes, Ophelia.”
“Three minutes.” For the first time, I let my mind wander to Sascha. His handsome, strong jaw, his thick beard that ruffled my hair when he drew me close. His bright, brown eyes twinkling whenever they caught mine. Taking the phone, I tapped in his number and closed my eyes to picture him.
Sascha… the love of my life; the man I wanted to hear my final words. If I truly was about to pay for the mistakes of my family, I needed him to know my heart was his. The ring on the line tightened my chest, as I struggled to breathe under the weight of what might very well be my final conversation with him.
And we couldn’t even have this talk face to face. How deplorable. My family despised Sascha; he wasn’t Russian born, but he’d lived in Russia almost all his life. He spoke our language, ate our food, taught at our universities…
“Dr. Matheson,” Sascha answered.
Leaning heavily against the wall, I stuffed my free hand into my mouth at the sound of Sascha’s voice. So deep, soft, but filled with confidence and authority.
“Hello?” he spoke again.
“Sascha—” I croaked hoarsely and sniffled hard as I wrapped my fingers around my throat. The action did nothing to relieve the burning, the pressure, and I licked my lips heavily. My face grew so hot, I exhaled stale air as dread roiled my stomach. “Sascha… I h-have to go, now.”
“Ophelia? What’s wrong? I’m worried about you…you haven’t taken any of my calls or anything for two days.”
The relief in his tone sent sharp, icy prickles down my sternum and I smiled sadly. Why did I ask to talk to him? I had no idea what to say now when he was on the phone. “I just want—I want you to know— Sascha, I love you so much—” My voice cracked harshly, and I sniffled viciously. “I love you.”
“What did your parents do this time, Oppie?” he asked.
A horrendous sob burst from my throat, and I practically threw the phone at Aleksander. Crumpling to pull my knees to my face, I covered my head and buried my hands in my hair. Blood drummed in my ears so loud that I couldn’t hear my own cries or ragged breaths. The sting in my throat intensified as my heart beat out of control. Why— why— why didn’t I accept Sascha’s offer to run away? We could’ve eloped and gone to America… we could’ve gotten away from my ugly family and been happy!