Page 268 of Bratva Jewels Box Set

“If I could go back in time and see things through a different set of eyes I would. I can promise you that I will hunt that man down and make him pay for what he has done to this family. What he has done with those girls,” I tell them coldly. The character of Persephone is seeping through, the one that doesn’t hesitate to kill someone.

“She’s frightening when she talks like that,” Damon whispers to Mackenzie, who nods and gives him a proud smile.

“Dimitri is a master manipulator, and his world is one giant chess board. You were another pawn in his game, Elena. Do not feel guilty about that. Grace and I had to learn the hard way that we, too, were pawns, now you have to,” Zoe explains to me.

“I don’t deserve all this,” I tell her honestly, waving my hand around the room.

“You’re like Grace and me, Elena. You’re a victim of the Bratva,” Zoe states firmly.

Sophie scoffs again as she shakes her head. “She is anything but a victim. This woman is a stone-cold killing machine.”

“Stop being a bitch, Sophie.” Mackenzie curses at her younger sister.

Sophie’s jaw drops at her sister’s words.

“Sophie’s right, I’m not a victim. Zoe and Grace are, I’m not,” I explain to the room.

“You were stolen and forced into a life you never wanted to live. You had no choice. It was either do this job or your entire family went to jail,” Grace adds.

“Is that what happened?” Elizabeth asks.

“I never grew up wanting to be this. I had dreams of being a ballerina, it’s the reason I was in America,” I tell them.

The room falls silent, all eyes are on me. I guess an assassin inspired to be a ballerina is different.

“How the hell did you get from ballerina to femme fatale?” Sophie grumbles.

“Guess I’d better start at the beginning then,” I tell them all.

I suck in a deep breath and steady myself as I haven’t ever told this story before.

“Elena and Anna, you are requested to see the principal,” my teacher advises as she reads the note handed to her.

Anna and I look over at each other and we are both so confused why we would be called to the principal’s office. We haven’t done anything wrong I don’t think. We are both straight-A students, there’s no reason for either of us to be called into the office.

“Go on, don’t keep Mr. Semenov waiting,” the teacher tells us.

The sound of our chairs scraping across the cement echoes through the classroom as each one of our classmates stares at us, wondering why we would be called out of class. Anxiety riddles me as I meet with my best friend Anna outside, the door to the classroom closing with a thud as we walk down the empty corridors.

“What do you think is going on? Are we in trouble?” Anna asks me.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

Anna and I decided at a young age that we would both leave this dark life we were born into and make a new one for ourselves in America. We know who our parents are, we aren’t blind, and finding out that my older brother Maxim has followed my father into this underworld life, Anna and I knew it would only be a matter of time before we, too, would be pulled into that world. Neither one of us wants that kind of life for ourselves but we know we will eventually be used aspawns in it. As much as our fathers say they don’t want us to be involved in their world, we know that one day, the time will come for either one of us to marry someone of our fathers’ choosing, and that will benefit their standing in the Bratva. I’m not supposed to know what my father or brother do, but I’m also not deaf. I’ve overheard plenty of heated conversations between my brother and father late at night. If I can get out of Sochi with a scholarship to anywhere in the fricken world, I’d be free of this life and this world that I want no part of. I don’t agree with the life my father and brother live, but that is their choice. And Anna and I leaving, will be ours.

We are quiet all the way to the school office as unease threads its way around us. When we arrive the doorbell tinkles above our head as we walk into the reception area.

“Hello, girls. Mr. Semenov is waiting for you in his office,” the receptionist tells us.

Anna and I give each other another worried look before we head into his office. My hand shakes as I knock on the door. He calls out to come in, and we both enter his office, a place neither one of us has been before. As we take in his sparse office, we notice our ballet teacher, Mrs. Mikhailov, sitting with him. She has a wide smile on her face.

“Welcome, girls. You both don’t need to look so worried, you’re not in trouble,” the principal states, which eases my fears.

Why are we here then if we aren’t in trouble?

“Girls, come, sit, it’s a wonderful day,” Mrs. Mikhailov states, patting the chair beside her.

Anna and I both take a seat in silence. My heart is thundering in my chest as I have no idea what is going on.