After escaping the ruthless Russian mafia boss Rafail Gusev, Vivian Russo hides in the shadows determined to bring Gusev down with the one thing that could ruin him: herself. But a one-night stand leads to unexpected complications.
Now, more than ev...
As I stand hidden in the shadows, watching the once majestic mansion crumble into ashes, a single regret gnaws at me-that Rafail Gusev isn't among the ruins, consumed by the flames.
Nervously, I twirl the wrap bracelets on my wrist, a habit born over the years. I hastily wipe away the tears tracing a path down my cheeks with the back of my hand. Allowing myself a moment of relief feels dangerously close to weakness, and weakness is a luxury I can't afford. Not now, when there's so much at stake, I can't falter.
Heaving a black duffle bag over my shoulder, I make my way into the encompassing darkness of the forest. Each twist and turn is familiar, a testament to seven years of desperate, failed escape attempts. The trees finally give in, and after a thirty-minute walk, i spot the road and a car. Leaning against it is a silhouette, its lev, bathed in the soft glow of his phone screen. My pace quickens and a smile breaks through my resolve.
"This would've been a lot easier if you'd come a bit further into that hellish forest," I tease as I close the distance between us, his frame looms above me.
"Для тебя, возможно"For you, maybe Lev retorts with a toothy grin, a rather infectious one. He drapes an arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the passenger side of the car. "Что у вас там?"what do you have there? He nods at the bag.
"Compensation" I counter as I settle into the seat, pulling the door closed with a satisfying thud.I made a conscious decision a few years ago not to speak Russian unless im required to. This small act of defiance was a reminder to myself-I am not one of them, nor will I ever be, it was my way of maintaining my own identity, a subtle rebellion against the identity they tried to force upon me. It has now become only a habit because I'm not sure I even remember who I was before Rafail brought me here.
The car ride is enveloped in a thick silence, punctuated only by the occasional tap of my fingers against the cold window. My mind races with the possibilities of capture, despite our thorough preparations-cameras disabled, devices untraceable. The paranoia refuses to subside; freedom is a fragile thing.
Our destination is a modest hotel in Kargat, a quiet refuge from the ever-watchful eyes of Novosibirsk Oblast. Lev, ever the strategist, chose the route, arranged the fake identities, and even secured my onward travel to California. At 24, he has his whole life ahead of him, yet here he is, risking it all for me-a reminder of the bond formed under duress when we were just teenagers forced into the dark world of the Bratva. I was there a year before him, he was recruited-or rather threatened to join, when he was 17, he had accidentally hacked into their system and they saw potential in him, I was 15 then and my training had just begun.
"something wrong?" Lev's voice cuts through the silence, the words rolling off his tongue with a heavy yet soothing Russian accent, his eyes briefly meeting mine in the dim light.
I blink back the moisture in my eyes, shaken. I want to ask why he is doing all this for me, but I simply can't find the courage to speak.
His hand finds mine, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent vow in the simple gesture.
Upon arriving at the hotel, the chill of the night bites through my clothes until Lev wraps a coat around my shoulders. He lifts the bags from the trunk with ease.
I get more nervous, biting my lip, torn over whether to confess the full extent of what I've taken from Gusev. But I know telling him could put his life in danger, more than it already is for helping me.
Outside the hotel, I wrap my arms around Lev, my voice muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know what to say." I feel horrible for letting him do this knowing what they would do to him if anyone finds out, but I'm a selfish person, I can't possibly go back there.
"We are past thank yous, are we not?" he says softly, pulling back to look at me. "Just buy me a drink when we meet again. Can you do that?"
Through tears, I manage a nod, a smile breaking through. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Stay out of trouble?"
"Definitely." A forced chuckle escapes my lips as I shoulder the bag and laptop, heading toward the hotel entrance. Glancing back, I see him wave-a solitary figure in the night.
The hotel room feels empty, the walls a dull reminder of my solitude. As I collapse onto the bed, the rustle of my clothes and the deafening silence amplify my isolation. Panic rises; I am alone, truly alone for the first time in a very long time. My breath quickens, and I hug my knees, counting each heartbeat, trying to steady the fear.
I did a horrible thing today, I have done many horrible things as Rafail's pawn, but today is different. I set fire to his home and let people burn in it-people who deserve worse.
And I regret nothing.
♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤
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Go off queen💅
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P.S I use Google translate for all the language exchanges so please don't come after me 😭
