Nodding, I follow him out the door, so scared that my teeth are chattering.
“Please Lev, I am begging you, what is happening? Where are we going?” We’re blazing down Highway 1 toward the airport and he is not following safe driving guidelines, speaking rapidly into his headset, ignoring me. The SUV is armored and not the usual one I ride in. This bullet-proof monstrosity is for my otets, or my brothers. Not for me. I’m not a security risk.
I’m just… the daughter. My parents were never cruel, though they made it clear my value was as a bargaining chip. Though other Bratva daughters often had arranged marriages set as early as fourteen - like my friend Mariya Morozova - I’m twenty and unattached.
As far as I know.
I wouldn’t be the first Bratva princess who ended up at the altar without knowing what was happening to me until they were lacing me into my wedding dress.
Disconnecting from his call, Lev finally looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Let me get us to our destination and we’ll talk, all right? I promise you an explanation.”
He looks like he’s dreading that explanation, and the knot in my stomach ties that much tighter. Looking out the window as we turn, I see we’re heading for a darkened airfield. It must be one of the private airstrips that circle the Vancouver International Airport.
“We’re flying out of here?” I ask anxiously. “Without my parents?”
Lev ignores me, racing down the road toward the small grouping of darkened airplane hangars. There’s a jet parked outside of one. Its running lights are off, but I can hear the engine. He pulls up in front of the stairs and opens my door before I have time to get my seatbelt off.
“Wait, hold up!” I dig my heels in, trying to make him slow down as he hauls me toward the jet. “You promised me an explanation!”
Two of my father’s men hurry down the stairs, guns out. “Any sign of them yet?” Lev asks them, keeping me moving.
“Not yet,” Nikolay says grimly, his weapon held up as he makes a visual sweep of the airfield.
This is bad. This is very bad. Nikolay is one of my father’s top soldiers. He rarely travels without him.
“Where are my mother and father?” I nearly scream.
Without breaking stride, Lev throws me over his shoulder and takes the boarding stairs two at a time. I don’t recognize this plane; this isn’t one from the Aslanov fleet. It’s still luxurious, with gray and cream leather seats and elegant wood detailing. I’m carried past a flight attendant, a smile frozen on her lips as I writhe and kick against my bodyguard’s grasp.
He’s barely put me into a seat and strapped me in when I feel the jet move, the high whine of the engine ready to take off. “Are you insane?” I shout at him, clinging to his jacket. “What the hell is happening!”
Lev continues to ignore me as he looks out my window, his brows drawing together. “Tell that pilot to take off before I shoot him and fly us out myself,” he orders the now-terrified flight attendant.
Following his gaze, I see headlights - three cars, I think - closing in on us. The jet’s cabin shakes as the engines scream, pushed to their limit as the wheels lift off the tarmac. There’s a thud to my left and I turn to see an odd starburst pattern in the window just in front of me; cracks snaking out from a small hole in the center.
“Did- they just shot at us, didn’t they?” I gasp. There are two more solid thuds along the body of the jet as we finally lift off. More headlights join the others, but we’re out of their reach now.
Lev leans over to examine the bullet hole. “It cracked the outside window, but the interior one is secure,” he said, back to his cold and calm bodyguard demeanor.
Grabbing onto his jacket, I fist the material. “Now. You’re going to tell me what the hell is going on. Now.”
“Privet sestra, hello sister,” my brother Roman says, trying to force a smile for me. My oldest brother was always the one to shield me from our father’s anger and impatience, the brother who pushed to allow me some normalcy in my life. Thanks to him, I was able to attend Simon Fraser University for the last two years, though I was the only one taking notes during the lectures with a bodyguard sitting next to me.
After we were at cruising altitude, Lev had placed an open laptop in front of me and connected to the incoming video call from Moscow, and my brother appeared. His usually immaculate bespoke suit is ripped and there’s a rust-colored stain that looks suspiciously like blood on his dress shirt.
“Ya skuchal po tebe, Roman, I’ve missed you,” I try to smile back. “What’s happened? It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Da,” he says flatly. Roman is also the brother who will never lie to me, even when I almost wish he would.
Firming my lips, I nod. “Tell me.”
“Our parents were returning home from the meeting in Seattle when their jet exploded.”
There are words trying to make their way out of my mouth but none of them make sense. I make a noise instead, moaning like a wounded animal. “No,” I shook my head firmly. “I spoke to Mat', to Mother, two hours ago! They were fine! Your intel is govno, it’s shit!”
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 on Otet’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.”