Roman doesn’t correct my cursing, he just looks at me sadly. “It’s true,malen'kaya iskra, little spark. I’m sorry.”
“This is… No.” I shake my head. “No. That’s wrong.” The stupid laptop screen is blurring this is a crap connection and… Oh. I’m crying. Putting my fingers against my wet cheek, I watch his image waver and dim.
“I’m sorry to push you into this next step before you’re ready,” he says gently, “but we don’t have much time. There have been hits on both Ilia and me-”
“Oh, my god are you okay? What about Ilia? Your suit looks all torn up, did they try to bomb your car? Your jet?” I’m babbling. Everything is slightly off-center. The lights, the underwater sound of my brother’s voice, trying to tell me that he and Ilia are safe.
“...The hits came from four different groups, and none of them are recognizable. But we took captives,” Roman said coldly. Captives. That means torture and for the first time, I’m all right with it. I want to watch. I would even help.
“How did they…” my voice broke and it took me a moment. “How did they get a bomb onOtet’s,on Papa’s plane? His security is state of the art, how could…”
I can hear people trying to whisper information to Roman and there are pieces of paper put in front of him. He keeps his gaze on me. “Malen'kaya iskra,we do not know who’s behind this. None of our spies or our intelligence network had picked up the slightest hint of an attack. And they coordinated three; Father’s jet, my motorcade in Moscow, and a firebomb in Ilia’s New York apartment. It took out half the building but he’s fine.”
“You said there were four attacks,” I said numbly.
His gaze moves to the left, where Lev is sitting next to me. “A group of soldiers breached security at the estate in Vancouver. We believe it’s the same group who tried to shoot you out of the sky as you were taking off. Lev’s quick actions are the only thing that kept you alive.”
“I know we have enemies,” I said, trying to enunciate through numb lips. “But you weren’t expecting this? At all?”
Roman shook his head, eyeing me with concern.
“Who could be powerful enough to pull that many soldiers together?”
“None of the Six Families would be suicidal enough to try this openly,” he agreed. “But working with another organization…”
“One of the cartels?” I ask, “Mafia? The Irish?”
His jaw tightens. “That’s what I’ll find out. Whoever they are, they’ll pay dearly for killing our parents. I will burn every one of them to ash.”
Finally realizing our parents are gone breaks me, and I wrap my arms around my stomach, rocking back and forth as I weep. I think my brother is trying to comfort me, but his voice is just static.
“Miss Tatiana?”
Lev is leaning over me, his hand braced on my headrest.
“You know, my father was always the one who insisted you call me Miss Tatiana,” I said. I’ve been crying and staring out the window and crying some more for the last six hours. “Maybe you could drop the ‘miss’ and just call me by my name?”
He looks a little alarmed by my suggestion, finally nodding and smiling. “Tatiana.”
“Thank you.” I don’t recognize my voice. I sound like a stranger. Flat, and blank. “I think… that’s nice to hear.” Lev has protected me for half my life, I’ve spent more time with him than anyone and he’s my family in every way that counts. Right now, though, he looks torn between grief and guilt.
“We’re landing in New Jersey to refuel,” he said. “TheSovietnikwill be there to speak with you.”
Sovietnik. Titles from the Aslanov Bratva that always make me feel distanced from my brothers. As if there are far more important things they are called to than merely being my family. I understand, most of the time. They have their roles, just as I do. Though theirs have meaning, mine feels primarily decorative.
“Are you sure Ilia’s all right?” I ask, “The explosion… did anyone get hurt in his building?”
Lev smiled reassuringly. “This is one of the new Aslanov properties. There are only three residents aside from your brother and they were all out of the building. He was uptown at the time; they must have had faulty intel.”
“Slava Bogu,thank God.” I rubbed my forehead. “Is this meeting safe? I don’t want to put him in danger.”
“He’s flying in via helicopter, and this jet is listed under another flight path,” Lev reassured me.
“About that… Whose jet is this?” I ask, “I know it’s not one of ours.”
“We needed a jet your family’s enemies couldn’t track; this one belongs to the Morozov Bratva.” He looks up as the pilot announces our approach. “Time to fasten your seatbelt and put your tray in the upright position.”
“Still not funny Lev,” I sigh, “you’ve said that every time we fly.”
