“You made it to special ops?”
I nod, kicking at a few pebbles, then slowly, almost sheepishly, raise my head to stare at Uncle Albert.
He’s older than my late father, has bushy brows and a round face and a big nose, as well as pointy ears. My cousins and I used to call him the fat elf in our ignorant younger years.
Uncle Albert just laughed it off and even asked Papa and my other uncle not to reprimand us.
He was the mediator of the family, the account keeper, and the peace that maintained the bridge between my third volatile uncle and my hotheaded Papa.
Now, there’s only he and I to protect the other two remaining members of our family. And, hopefully, find my brother one day.
Small hands reach out for my face, grabbing at air. “Sasha…Sasha…”
I scoop my youngest cousin, Mike, from Uncle’s clutches. He’s four years old and the only survivor of Uncle Albert’s children. In fact, he’s my only cousin who stayed alive.
Mike was lucky enough to be hidden away by his mother in the cupboard at the time of the massacre. The cost of that sacrifice was her life, but he, at least, didn’t witness all the blood. He doesn’t remember her, either, since he was only a few months old at the time.
I’d give my life to protect the innocence that shines in his light eyes. They translate everything beautiful and pure. Whenever I look at him, I’m reminded of the laughter, adventures, and mischievousness his elder siblings and I used to take for granted.
It wasn’t until I lost them about four years ago that I realized just how privileged we were.
Mike’s fair hair has grown, becoming longer and wilder, nearly eating up his small face. “You need a haircut, Mishka.”
He giggles and then pats my cheek. “Man, Sasha.”
“Am I?” I use my manly voice, and he breaks into a fit of giggles as he hugs me tighter.
“You are!”
“My little bear is so old now, he can even tell what I sound like.”
“Yup! Babushka says I’m gonna be a big boy and help ya.”
“You will?”
He rolls his eyes with so much attitude for a four-year-old. “Of course! You can’t do it on your own, Sasha. You’re no Superman.”
“And you are?”
“I’m gonna be. And I’m also gonna stop Babushka from crying every night.”
My heart squeezes, and I raise my head to gauge Uncle Albert’s reaction. He’s leaning against the wall of the old, deserted warehouse we agreed to meet in.
It took me a few hours of hitchhiking to get here, but it’s located far enough from the heart of Saint Petersburg that no one could follow or locate me.
Our communications are done strictly through an encrypted phone from my uncle’s end and a burner from mine. I could’ve gotten one like his, but the chances of it being confiscated in the military are a lot higher than I’m willing to risk.
Gloomy silence creeps through the air of the small shed as the icy merciless winter air slips in from the cracks in the walls. The strong wind blows and whistles in a violent symphony.
Four years ago, we lost our family, our social standing, and our business. We had to stay in hiding and constantly moved from one nook of Russia to the next. Two years ago, we were found by mercenaries sent by our enemies, and once they heard I was still alive, they nearly managed to kill me if it weren’t for Uncle.
Since my father was the head of the family, I’m the only heir alive. The only one who’s able to gather his contacts and rebuild our business from scratch. Uncle and Babushka said it’ll be dangerous if they learned I’m still alive, so they faked my death and I had to live as a man since. With a fake name and background.
A few months after that incident, I joined the army to find out who ordered the hit.
Uncle still has some contacts in there and he’s also trying to rebuild our network, but it’s hard when our last name is blacklisted in Russia.
“Is it true about Babushka?” I ask my uncle.
He throws up a dismissive hand. “That’s not important right now. The fact that you leveled up does.”
“Didn’t you say the higher I climb in rank, the better?”
He nods solemnly as he pushes off the wall with difficulty and squeezes my shoulder the way my father used to do to my older brother. The memory makes my stomach coil, and my breathing deepens and hardens.
“I’m proud of you, Sasha.” Uncle Albert’s voice rings in the hollowness of my rib cage. “I knew you had the spirit of a warrior.”
“I will do anything for our family.” And I mean every word. I was too young and weak to stop the previous attack that robbed us of everything.
This time, it’ll be different.
This time, I have the chance to accomplish something else.
“I know.” He pats my shoulder once more before he releases me. “Promise me you’ll be careful and not reveal your gender or identity. You’re only safe when you’re someone else, Sasha.”
I nod.
“Don’t get close to anyone who’s prone to uncovering your real gender.”
Another nod.
“I know you must feel lonely, but if you make any friends and they figure out who you actually are, none of us will be safe. I can disappear easily, but not with your grandmother and Mike. They’d slow me down and we’d eventually be in danger.”
“That won’t happen. I promise.”
The stress of the past couple of years, ever since we fell from grace, covers his features. I stop and stare at the lines in the corners of his eyes and notice that he appears to have aged a decade or more since everything went down.
Ever since I enlisted, I’ve avoided visiting in order to prevent being followed. Uncle, however, is shackled by family matters—Babushka’s health and temper, Mike’s needs and livelihood, and all other measures he has to take to keep them well hidden and looked after.
I have no clue what I would’ve done without him.
Letting Mike play with the zipper of my coat, I lean in farther to whisper, “Have you found out anything about Anton?”
A sheen of sadness covers his features before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Sasha.”
My heart squeezes, but I force a smile. “I’m sure we’ll find him. Maybe he left the country or the continent. Or maybe he’s laying low, knowing that we’re being searched for.”
“I suggest you take the worst into account, too.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. We didn’t find his body, which means he’s alive somewhere. I just know it.”
My brother wouldn’t abandon me. If he were dead, we would’ve found his corpse, but we didn’t. I’m sure he escaped and is biding his time for revenge like Uncle Albert and I.
Maybe he was badly injured and has to undergo medical care. Whatever the reason is, I’m sure Anton is out there. Somewhere.
He’s five years older than me, so he’s twenty-five now. Probably doing everything in his power to survive like the four of us.
Sometimes, I hurt, wondering how he could’ve abandoned us. It’s been almost four years, and my uncle’s top-notch contacts haven’t been able to find a trace of him.
Even if Anton was injured, it wouldn’t have taken him years to get better, right?
Short of Mike’s idle chattering and cheerful sounds, another cloud of gloomy silence overtakes the warehouse
I stroke his hair, greedily feeding off his bright energy. It’s hard to believe that I was once like him—carefree, cheerful, and utterly unaware of the disaster that was brewing in the background. Those times feel like forever ago.
“We’ll have to limit these meetings now that you’re in special ops,” Uncle Albert announces.
My fingers come to a halt in Mike’s hair, and his father must pick up on the change in my demeanor since he elaborates, “It’s not safe.”
“But I can at least see you and Mike once in a while, right?”
“No, Sasha. Leaving the base to meet your supposedly dead family members will only warrant attention. That’s the last thing we need.”
My chin trembles, and I hate having the sudden urge to cry. The wound that’s been pulsing beneath my flesh for four years gnaws and rips at the surface.
It’s like I’m in the middle of that blood all over again. I’m losing the remnants of my family, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Maybe once every few months?” I try in a voice so weak, I’m surprised he hears it.
My uncle shakes his head again. “Not while you’re in the Special Forces. They have stricter rules and stronger intelligence. I’m just glad we can still bribe the medical examiner and give you some privileges, but everything else is dark waters we shouldn’t tread near.”
“Then when can I see you guys?”
“A year, or a few. Depends on whether or not you can find the one who ordered the hit within the army.”
The pain in my chest grows and inflates. “He was a commandant, no? I won’t be able to get close to him unless I’m promoted several times. That will take years, if not decades.”
“Is that time not worth it?”
“It’s not about time, it’s about not seeing you again.”
“A small sacrifice to make.”
“Does…Babushka know about my future estrangement from the family?”
“She suggested this.”
“Oh.” My feet falter, and it takes everything in me to remain standing. I’ve never been my grandmother’s favorite grandchild, but she loves me. In her own strict, somewhat patriarchal way.
It’s no secret that she prefers boys. Girls are a liability—a means that could bring disaster and dishonor to their family—as my estranged aunt did when she eloped.
I’ve always felt like Babushka dislikes me for being saved by four of my male cousins, who all died. Her eyes tell me she wishes we’d traded places. But when I spoke to Uncle Albert about this, he said I was thinking too much.
However, he’s an expert conflict avoider. Of course he’d try to build a bridge between her and me. As he did with Papa and my third uncle.
“You’re still one of us. Even if the world knows you by a different name, gender, and appearance, I’ll always remember you as my Sashenka.”
“Uncle…”
“Say your name out loud, so you’ll never forget it.”
My lips tremble. It’s been so long that it feels foreign on my tongue. “Aleksandra Ivanova.”
“Sasha…Sasha…” Mike chants in my arms, and I smile.
When Uncle Albert attempts to take him away, he throws a fit and refuses to leave. He even announces that he’s not on speaking terms with his father.
I kiss his forehead and smooth his golden mane of hair. “We’ll meet again, Mishka.”
“But when?”
“When you’re older and stronger and you become Superman.”
“Okay!” He grins, his eyes dripping with an endearing innocence.
The thought that I won’t witness him growing up or hear his adorable laughter in the near future fills me with heavy desperation.
He goes to his father’s arms without much protest this time, and I grab onto his coat for a bit too long before I kiss his cheek and finally let go.
“If there’s anything urgent, send me the usual code,” Uncle Albert tells me.
“And how will you reach me if there’s something urgent from your side?”
“I have enough friends to get to you. Don’t worry.”
I release a resigned breath as he pulls on his and Mike’s hoods, then they step out into the freezing air. My cousin continues waving and throwing kisses at me for as long as he can see me.
The moment they disappear into the distance, I slide to the ground, pull my knees to my chest, and finally let the tears loose.
After I’ve bid my uncle and cousin farewell, a crippling sense of loneliness grabs hold of me. It gets so bad that I find it hard to breathe or think.
To avoid being questioned, I don’t go back to base right away. I’m on the edge right now and I might crack too easily under pressure.
Usually, I’d be doing muscle-strengthening exercises during my day off, but today, I took a break and was so excited to see my uncle and Mike. I feel even more accomplished since I rose in rank.
Turns out, this promotion is more of a curse than a blessing.
It’s been a week since I joined the Special Forces, and while it’s more intense than in my previous unit, I’ve learned to push myself and gradually remove my mental cage.
The moment I get comfortable at a certain pace, Captain Kirill completely overthrows it. Not only that, but he also has Viktor as the supervisor in charge, and he’s nothing short of a stoic, unbendable rock.
The other soldiers are used to him and his ways, so I’m the only one who has to adapt. Even the new recruits have integrated better than I have.
Absentmindedly, I roam the snowy streets for a few hours. The cold freezes my tears, but I still walk and walk. My feet come to a halt in front of a beautiful lace dress at the front of a shop. The creamy color gives it an elegant edge and the lace adds a beautiful feminine touch.
My heart swells. Will there ever be a day where I’ll wear a dress again?
I internally shake my head. Even if I do get the chance, would I know how to move in a dress anymore?
It’s been years since I wore one.
I begrudgingly step away from the shop and disappear in the herd of people. Once I’m calmer and have better control of my emotions, I head back to base.
I walk in with my back straight and my strides wide. It weirdly gives me confidence that I so desperately need in my current state.
The moment I step foot into the dormitory, large boots appear in front of me. I know who they belong to before looking up, and I straighten further before saluting.
“Where were you off to, Lipovsky?” Viktor’s gruff voice sounds heightened in the silence.
“I went out for a stroll.” I technically did, so it’s not a lie.
“Is a stroll more important than training, soldier?”
“No, but it’s my day off.”
“What did you just say?”
My spine jerks, and I realize that maybe I fucked up and shouldn’t have answered that way. Not that I’m lying, and I shouldn’t be expected to be available for training on my days off, but someone as rigid as Viktor wouldn’t understand. He has his set views and opinions, and he’s like an unmovable mountain.
He reminds me of Babushka in some ways.
“Leave the newbie alone, Viktor.” A different voice comes from behind me before its owner stops beside me.
The newcomer is another member of the unit. He looks a few years older than me, is built like a wall, and has angular yet weirdly welcoming features.
“You.” Viktor points at him. “Stay out of it, Maksim.”
“No can do. You’re bullying the poor man.” Maksim grabs me by the shoulder and basically drags me out back.
I don’t resist, not even when I feel the murderous energy radiating from Viktor.
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” I whisper as we go outside. Instantly, my nose starts running and needles of cold penetrate my skin.
I’d rather stay in the semblance of warmth inside, but I doubt Maksim would hear that request. He seems like the type who sweeps you off your feet for some sort of adventure.
“Never mind! You don’t know this, but Viktor is like a mountain you occasionally have to climb or simply jump over so that he stops being a pain in the ass, especially when we have an excuse such as a day off… Jesus, you feel so small, newbie.”
I go rigid, but then I force myself to relax again. “My name is Aleksander.”
“I’m Maksim. I noticed you being all stiff and alone this past week, and we don’t do that shit in this unit.” He tilts his chin forward. “How about some fun?”
We come to halt in front of a field for…football.
The soldiers are divided into two teams of eleven players. Concentration and contempt shine on their faces as if they’re on the battlefield.
A flat-out war is taking place. Not only do they tackle and hit each other, but they basically step on one another on the artificial turf.
Maksim, showing little to no care about the brutal play, strolls into the middle of an attack and steals the ball. Then he tactfully slips from the clutches of a few angry players.
“You and you. Out.” He points at two soldiers. “Lipovsky and I will be subbing in.”
At the mention of my name, almost everyone’s attention turns to me. I might not get as much shit from these guys as I did with Matvey and his goons, but they haven’t warmed up to me either. They keep me at arm’s length and barely address me at the meal table.
In fact, Maksim is the first one who’s ever talked to me.
“It’s okay,” I say, conscious of the unpleasant energy. “I can watch.”
“Nonsense.” Still holding the ball, Maksim comes to fetch me by dragging me in a half chokehold that kind of cuts off my air, but I’ve come to know that guys generally handle each other with roughness.
In theory, I can fight the dragging, but in reality, I can’t. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to.
Despite my mother’s protests, I played football with my cousins and my brother all the time when we were growing up. It’s one of those games that holds a special place in my heart.
“Give back the ball, motherfucker!” someone shouts from the distance.
“That’s Yuri,” Maksim tells me. “The true motherfucker in this unit. Don’t sleep near him, Aleksander, or you’ll suffer a slow death. He snores like a dying pig.”
Some soldiers laugh and point at Yuri, who glares at each and every one of them.
“Ready, bitches?” Maksim stands in the middle of the field, then—no surprise here—throws the ball in our team’s direction instead of the middle.
Apparently, there’s no formation in this thing. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to play defense, midfield, or offense. Turns out, everyone plays all spots at once.
All twenty-two soldiers are wherever the ball is.
No fouls are counted, no matter how many hits are exchanged. Cards? Forget about that. Fair play? No way in hell. In fact, the referee is egging the teams on and calling them names for not scoring.
To say it’s chaos is an understatement.
This should be labeled combat football instead of the regular type.
Still, we keep losing the ball to the more aggressive players of the other team. They’re also bulkier, which makes it unnerving to even look at them, let alone try to fight them for the ball.
At one of our aimless attacks, I stay back and tell Maksim to do the same. He raises his hands and shouts, “But we’re missing all the fun!”
“Trust me,” I mouth, not taking my eye off the ball. “I’ll be right-wing, and you take the left. Whoever has the ball, the other runs forward, got it?”
“Well, all right. This plan better be worth missing the action for.”
“It will be,” I say with confidence.
As expected, a player from the other team steals possession of the ball, and he comes running in our direction.
Naturally, everyone else follows him like a herd. Maksim takes the one with the ball by surprise and steals it.
“Lipovsky!” he shouts, but I’m already running toward the goal. When he passes the ball, I’m there to catch it.
The other team runs at a frightening speed toward me. I don’t wait to have the best shot and, instead, go in blind.
A couple of bodies slam into me, and I’m about to be knocked off my feet, but then I’m not.
The ones who attacked me are my teammates, and they’re holding me up, cheering at the top of their lungs.
I scored.
Holy shit. I scored.
Maksim shakes me by the shoulders, then headlocks me. “I knew you’d fit right in, Aleksander.”
I smile for the first time since I said goodbye to Uncle Albert and Mike.
“You can call me Sasha,” I tell him.
“Call me Maks.” He grabs me by the shoulder and faces the others. “I accept sacrifices for bringing in a scorer for the team.”
They give him shit about that statement, and he just calls them names, then they’re all flipping each other off.
Some soldiers slap me on the back, others welcome me aboard, and even the members of the other team give me a thumbs-up.
Does this mean I broke the ice with them?
Do I…finally belong here?
My smile falters when my gaze clashes with an icy one. Sometimes, it’s like I’m staring at a piece of the Arctic Ocean.
Captain Kirill.
For the past week, he’s mostly ignored my existence. Viktor was the one who oversaw my individual training while he gave the orders from afar.
For a second, I think maybe he’s watching the game, but his arms are crossed, and his glare falls on me.
Frighteningly so.
My heart nearly beats out of my rib cage. I think there’s a problem with me. Otherwise, why would I feel like he’s peeling my skin apart and revealing each and every one of my secrets?
And for some reason, I think he might be well capable of that.
The reality of the situation hits me then. Captain Kirill may be what makes me stronger, but he’s also dangerous.
The type of danger that will swallow me alive if I don’t keep my cards close to my chest.
