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. “The Sovietnik will 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.”
“And you still giggle a little every time I do,” he assures me, ruffling my hair. For just a moment, I’m ten again and he’s my new bodyguard, trying to make me laugh.
“Malen'kaya iskra!” Ilia lopes up the boarding stairs and halfway through the cabin before I could unbuckle my seatbelt. “Are you all right?” Hugging me fiercely, he whispered, “I am sorry about mat' i otets, so sorry.”
Having my brother’s arms around me ends my fragile self-control and I sob, holding on to him as tightly as I can. “How could they be gone?” I wept, “I spoke with Mother last night, I don’t understand any of this.”
Pulling away, my tall, strong brother’s face is pale. “We don’t either,” he said, leading me to a bank of seats at the back of the jet and sitting next to me. “This came out of the blue. Of all the chatter we monitor, the intel our spies gather… there was nothing to indicate this.”
Running my hands through my hair, I try to gather my thoughts. “What’s the next step? A funeral, and-”
Taking my hands in his, Ilia squeezed them gently. “We are not having a funeral for them.”
“What?” That came out much louder than I planned and everyone in the cabin turned to look at us. “Of course, we’re having a funeral, what are you even-”
“Listen to me,” he said urgently. “We do not know who is friend or foe right now. There aren’t enough guards in the entire Aslanov Bratva to secure the church and cemetery if we don’t know who we’re guarding against. Roman and I are going to war against an unseen enemy. In the meantime, you are in danger.”
My brow furrows. “What? I’m just… the daughter. I don’t have any power, there’s nothing to gain from killing me.” I don’t feel the tears until Ilia pulls out his pocket square and dabs at my wet cheeks.
“We are at the very beginning stages of this investigation, but one of the few things we have learned is that you are a specific and valued target. The soldiers who breached the security at the estate didn’t use explosives, like the other three groups. If whoever this is wants to gain a foothold with our Bratva behind them, taking and marrying you is a smart move.”
“Does this mean I can’t go back to school?” I wince, “That sounds so selfish, I’m sorry.”
Ilia tilts his head, looking at me closely. “To Simon Fraser University? No. But… Roman and I have found what is possibly the most secure spot on the planet for you.”
My gaze moves to Lev, who is nodding, even though it looks acutely painful to do so. “Where?”
My brother smiles triumphantly. “The Ares Academy.”
Chapter Two
In which Tatiana reluctantly agrees to The Worst Idea Ever.
Tatiana…
“You’re kidding me.”
Ilia shakes his head. “I know the stories Roman and I have shared can make the Academy sound a little scary-”
“Scary? You almost died there. Twice, remember?” I snap. “Students learning how to poison and torture and murder people more effectively? It’s been ten hours since Lev dragged me out of bed, that I learned my parents have been murdered, that my brothers don’t want me with them and, oh, yes. I’m some sort of juicy target for these murderous pigs. Have I hit all the highlights here?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Why would you even joke about sending me there? Not to mention that they would never accept me. I’m twenty. It’s what, a month into the school year and once the students get dumped on that island, they can’t get off until June!”
Patiently waiting until the anxious flow of word vomit is over, he leans over to the bar to get me a bottle of water. “Drink this. Take a moment.”
Glaring at him over the bottle as I drink, I try to regain some self-control. I know Ilia is being patient. While everything in my life just crumbled around me, tears and hysteria have never been welcome in the Aslanov Bratva. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus. “Okay. I’m sorry. I can listen.”
“You’re correct,” he allows, “about most of this. You should be with us. You should be protected by us.” His lips pressed tightly together and I can feel his grief and guilt. “We have threats coming in from every direction. Whoever it is has a literal army. And now we know you are a target. Roman and I have gone through every possible scenario to keep you safe, and this is the best option.”
“I still don’t see how you’re going to just… magically poof me into the most secretive and brutal college on the planet,” I protest.
“The Ares Academy is notoriously difficult to get into,” he agrees. “I know our parents never discussed this with you, but there was interest in you when you turned eighteen. Do you remember Vladimir Adamovich?”
Frowning, I vaguely remember a big, white-haired man with a mustache that made him look like a walrus.
“He came to dinner at the house several times,” I said thoughtfully, “and I remember him at some of the bigger celebrations.”
“He was an old friend of Father’s,” Ilia agrees, “but he’s surprisingly progressive. He is the president of the Board of Regents for the college. He’d suggested at the time that you would be a good candidate.”
“Really?” I’m shocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him.”
“Father, of course, immediately dismissed the idea,” he said wryly, “which I thought was a shame. Roman and I believed you could have flourished there.”