Page 51 of Mistaken
I wake up when the jet hits some turbulence, bouncing up and down again in a way that reminds me I’m in a little steel tube 25,000 feet up in the air. As I convince my stomach to go back down my throat, I look around. The cabin’s lights are dimmed, and several of the Russians are sleeping, some of the others are playing cards and cursing at each other in low voices.
Maksim is still working. His suit jacket is off and his shirt’s cuffs are rolled up his tanned forearms. That lookdoessomething to me, damn him. Yuri’s next to him, shuffling through some papers, handing a few to his brother every now and then with a comment. Trying to stand, I nearly trip over something tangled with my feet, it’s a cashmere blanket, soft as a baby’s bottom and a deep green. Maksim looks up.
“Ah, you’re awake. Are you hungry?”
A quick check of my phone shows I’ve been asleep for six hours. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Maybe you should get some sleep?”
Yuri is smiling at me, kind as always, but his brother shakes his head and goes back to their discussion. I sigh.Score one point for putting the blanket on me,I thought,aaand, knock that score right back to zero for being a dismissive swine.
After a couple more hours, it’s clear Maksim’s fallen asleep, his dark head drooping over his laptop. Yuri carefully pulls it away and closes it, turning off the light over their chairs. Making his way over, he drops into the seat opposite me with a sigh.
“How are you doing, sister dear?”
I smile, shaking my head. “How can you possibly be so likable, Yuri? It certainly doesn’t run in the fam- I mean, really. You are.”
His chest shook, he was laughing at me silently, but I didn’t mind. There was a consistent sort of kindness with Yuri that clearly wasn’t a genetic trait, since his brother would rather be eaten by a shark than show such a soft emotion.
“Expectations for me were different than the ones Maksim endured,” he said, cracking his neck and rubbing it.
“Endured is an interesting choice of words,” I ventured.
He looked around us, I suspect by habit. Anyone nearby was asleep, but he lowered his voice. “Being born into a Bratva family removes any chance of a normal life. Maksim says he’s told you of the expectations for women. Groomed and traded off for a better alliance.”
“I keep trying to remind myself it’s the twenty-first century when I hear about the power structure,” I shook my head, still mildly nauseated about their father’s plans for Ekaterina and Mariya.
“For the men?” He chuckled joylessly. Yuri's square, handsome face was cold again, his blue eyes hollow. “Maksim was groomed to take over as Pakhan since birth.”
“When you say groomed, you mean like…” I wasn’t sure what to ask, but I didn’t think he meant reading contracts and taking leadership courses.
He leaned back, watching me with his index finger tracing his lower lip. It was a very Maksim-like gesture. Yuri was his brother’s height, but bulkier somehow. The same big hands, scarred fingers that I’m sure inflicted damage on dozens of victims. Or bad guys. I don’t know anymore.
“I was fourteen, the first time my father put a gun in my hand and told me to shoot a business rival.” He examined my expression, “Maksim was even younger.”
Moistening my suddenly dry lips, I asked, “Did you do it?”
“Of course.”
Exhaling, I racked my brain, trying to think of anything to say that wasn’t along the lines of:Are you kidding me right now?
“That’s… unspeakable. What did he do if you refused to do something?”
Yuri laughed. Not his usual pleasant chuckle, this was bitter. “There was none of that. If I made a mistake, he’d torture Maksim. If he made an error…” He shuddered. “My father nearly beat me to death one day after Maksim made an error collecting a pickup from one of our casinos.”
“Wh- what happened?” He didn’t answer me, he was staring over my shoulder, his eyes blank and pale. Leaning forward, I hesitantly touched his hand. “Yuri? What happened?”
Blinking, he seemed to come back online, it was the only way to describe it. “Maksim stopped him.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, concentrating on the pain so I wouldn’t cry. Yuri would hate that; he deserved better than pity from me. “I’m glad he’s gone,” I offered, “and I don’t know how you’ve managed to remain as kind as you are after growing up under…” Can I call his father an evil fuck? A complete bastard? Is that considered rude even with what he just told me?
“Take whatever I endured and times it by ten and you have Maksim’s childhood.” Yuri squeezed my hand and stood up. “I’m going to try to get some sleep. Just ring for the flight attendant if you’re hungry.”
Like I could sleep after that story.
By the time the pilot announced our descent, I was pressed against the window like a tourist staring down at the diamond-spangled carpet of white covering the landscape. There was a massive, black body of water, Lake Ladoga, I think. The jet circled, and the glittering blue of the water swooped out before us.
“The Gulf of Finland.” Maksim was leaning over me, looking out at the view. “It leads out to the Baltic Sea.”
As the jet descended, I asked, “Where’s your home? What general direction?”
