There’s no denying that Russia is a very beautiful country. The mix of old and new architecture is balanced and well considered, and you can see how proud a nation they are. The traffic picks up as we travel deeper into the city. Sergey and Aleksei spend the time on the phone and also looking at Aleksei’s laptop screen.
The sound of their lowered voices and the slow rock of the car makes my eyes droop, which snaps me out of my lethargy. As if I would ever allow myself to sleep in front of Sergey.
I sit up abruptly and lower the window, moving my face so the freezing cold air wakes me up. I’m off with the fairies, enjoying the empty space in my head.
“Shut the fucking window, woman,” Sergey snaps.
He scares the crap out of me, and I jump in my seat, making him laugh.
I was so far away, enjoying the empty space in my head, that I forgot where I was. It won’t happen again.
But I also won’t cower. To him.
“Sorry,” I say quietly as I hit the button to raise the window, though I leave it slightly down, needing the fresh air to get over the shock of Sergey’s bark. Plus, the fresh air is a way to deal with his choking scent.
I look over, and he’s back to working, so I go back to staring out the window while trying to calm down after his outburst.
As soon as I get my heart rate back to normal, he turns back to me. Talking slowly, like I’m stupid, he says, “I said, shut… the… fucking… window.” And then he turns to Aleksei. “Is sheglupy?”
Aleksei keeps his eyes glued to his laptop, but a vein in his temple hammers at what I assume is an insult. “She’s not well, Sergey. A little air will be okay, won’t it?”
Sergey scoffs at his brother, mouthing off at him in Russian before I feel his attention turn back to me again.
I keep my focus out the window, trying not to project how much I’d like to punch him in the face. But no matter how I try to ignore him, I sense the tension and his obvious enjoyment rising. I brace myself as best I can.
His voice is purposely slow and deliberately taunting. “She was walking funny before. Did you break my wife’s cunt when you fucked her?”
At his insult, I meet his gaze head-on. I’m careful not to stare too long, but I’m also not about to let him speak like that without him knowing how little I think of him. I let my eyes do the talking.
And while it wasn’t a test of loyalty, part of me relaxes when I catch Aleksei’s reaction to Sergey’s disgraceful comment.
Sergey is relishing in how quickly he’s wound Aleksei up; he unsuccessfully tries to hide it by pretending to be affronted. “What?”
“Our mother would be horrified to hear you speak like that, Sergey.” Aleksei’s voice is devoid of emotion, despite his obvious anger.
Sergey leans closer to Aleksei, feigning intimacy before smirking. “She can’t react anymore, little brother, she is dead. Did you forget? No matter, because even if she was alive, she was bad for you. She made you soft.”
Aleksei holds his stare. “And if I spoke to Bambi how you spoke to Quinn, would you be embarrassed by me, brother? Because I am by you.”
“Pizdets blyat!” Sergey snarls. “For fuck’s sake, Aleksei, this has to stop! You changed in America, losing strength or something. You are no longer useful as my Avtroitet if you are wasting time over how I speak to thisshlyukha.”
Aleksei rubs his hands down his face, which Sergey reads as a sign of submission. But Sergey judged too soon. Aleksei is furious, just a lot more controlled, and he doesn’t play games as he continues a show of his designation, forcing his brother to listen. “I disagree, Sergey. Everything we both do reflects on us and our name. Your leadership and business acumen is what people should remember, not anything else.” He turns hisattention to me, and I can’t look at him. “Mrs. Petrov, could you please put your window up?”
Sergey clenches his jaw but doesn’t say a thing as I take my time doing what he demanded. And when Aleksei passes his brother a drink, he takes it. Aleksei starts talking again in Russian, and it sounds like a salute. When they both swallow the amber liquid in a gulp, I see I guessed right.
I think Aleksei focusing on his brother and ignoring me is the only reason Sergey relaxes. For the rest of the drive, they both act as if I am not in the car with them as they continue working through documents while also taking calls.
I spend the time saving my energy. I’d love a nap, and my head is killing me still, but I’m not about to do that, so I mentally run through medical procedures and checklists, things to keep me focused and alert but as chill as possible.
The scenery starts to shift from bustling city streets to wider roads full of trucks driving next to us or speeding past us. Industrial business and large warehouses line the streets before high wire fences and glimpses of the water dominate the view.
The car pulls into a driveway lined with sky-high chain link fences, capped with strands of barbed wire. The warning signs are easy to understand, despite being written in Russian. We stop at security gates, where two guards sit in a booth, clearly in control of access. The driver talks in Russian, the guards laughing back; it’s not the first time they’ve been here, and since neither Aleksei nor Sergey stop their own conversation, it’s easy to assume this dock is owned or at least run by the Petrovs.
Once the gate goes up, the car travels past row after row of shipping containers stacked on top of each other. Most, but not all, bear a logo not too different from Aleksei’s monogrammed initials. At the end of one of the paths, a large warehouse sits overlooking the dock, and the driver continues driving through one of the large roller doors before parking just inside.
As the car stops, Aleksei gets out. He’s joined by some of the men from the house, and they walk through the warehouse with their guns drawn before returning to the car and surrounding it. Sergey watches his men, paying me no attention, and the glimmer of power in his expression is the first time I’ve looked at him and thought of him as a Bratva instead of an idiot. Because acting “the” man is a lot different to actually being “the” man.
Aleksei opens Sergey’s door, talking low to him before he lets him out of the car. Sergey gets out and walks towards a glass-front office in the back corner of the space while his men trail after him on high alert.
