It makes me swallow, not out of fear but from some strange emotion that wells up in my chest. It isn’t exactly gratitude, but… I don’t know.
Just before I slip through the doorway, I look back one last time and catch sight of him heading back for the car and climbing behind the wheel once again. My lips part to yell out a thank you, but he’s already pulling his door shut and turning over the engine again.
I sigh and close the door behind me.
It isn’t long before one of the maids finds me. Her English is hard to understand, but I try my best to. “Master Sergei will not need you this evening. Please rest.”
I nod, murmuring something polite in response, and head up to my room on autopilot. I don’t even make it to my bed. I drop into the desk chair as my legs give out and yank open my laptop.
There was something Maksim said back at that compound… something in Russian he said while explaining to me that our getting caught in that weird shootout wasn’t supposed to happen.
I try to type it phonetically.Vor-ee va zha-con-eh.
Nothing. Fuck.
Vori vuh zah conny.
Still nothing. My fingers clench together, frustration boiling in my chest.
Come on. Come on.
I try again. This time, I spell it how it sounded with what little Cyrillic I’ve picked up from spending my time with Yulia.Vory v Zakone.
Enter.
Bingo.
The search floods with results. Wikipedia, news articles, academic papers, Russian crime reports, old newspaper scans. It goes on and on. The search results are practically endless.
Vory v Zakone,Thieves-in-Law.
Not just criminals. Not justgangsters. These are the crowned elite of the Russian underworld. Of aBratva. Men who swear an oath, who follow a brutal code, who wield power through spilled blood and loyalty.
Holy. Shit.
The pieces snap together all at once. The blackout on Sergei’s identity. The tailored shadows that follow Maksim around. The tension with the staff at this mansion. The gunfight. The compound I was held captive at for the past four hours.
I sit back, heart pounding so fast it makes me dizzy. My skin buzzes with panic the more I read. I feel like I’ve stepped into the middle of a political thriller. Only, the twist in the tale isn’t that I’m secretly a spy playing for the opposite side trying to enact revenge. I’ve somehow embroiled myself with the fuckingMafia.
“Holy shit,” I mumble.
I shove the laptop closed and stand so fast my chair knocks back and falls to the floor behind me. The panic isn’t theoretical anymore. It’s visceral. My entire body feels wired, twitchy, like I’m going to jump out of my own skin if I don’t talk to someoneright now.
I snatch up my phone from the bed and scroll through my contacts. My thumb hovers overAliafor a moment, but no, she’ll panic. And if she panics, I’ll panic even more. What I need right now is someone who can actually help me escape this nightmare I’ve somehow been dropped into.
Miss Dori.
My thumb shakes as I hit the call button and raise the phone to my ear. As the other line rings, my eyes flick over to the door. Idart across the room and throw the bolt, making sure to test the hold by yanking on the handle a few times.
She picks up on the third ring. “Ivy! So good to hear from you. How’s Moscow treating you?”
I don’t waste time. My voice comes out in a rushed whisper, breathless and urgent. “Miss Dori, I think I’m living with the Russian Mafia.”
There’s a long moment of silence on the other end. I glance at the screen to make sure the call didn’t drop, my heart sinking when I see the time stamp continuing to tick away.
“I’m sorry?” she finally says, laughing.
“Miss Dori, I’m serious,” I hiss at her. “The family I’m living with, Mr. Sergei, he’s part of the Mafia. He’s always got these guys coming into the house to have secret meetings in the middle of the night. There’s this other guy that comes around too, Maksim, he was… I looked up a few words he said on Google and it’s all Mafia related. I think he’s working for the Mafia or is involved somehow.”
