Page 30 of The Lazarov Bratva

“We did it,” I gasp. “We fucking did it!”

We clutch at each other, jumping up and down for a few moments until I notice a twig in Katja’s hair. Removing it with a laugh, she pulls a small brush from her purse, and we take a few moments to sort ourselves. Clothes are smoothed down, hair is brushed, and heels are placed on sore feet, but nothing can bring me down. A touch-up of lipstick, and Katja takes my hand, her eyes sparkling.

“Come on, we’re close!”

This time when we jog out into the street, I’m no longer Alena Orlova, daughter of the Pakhan and heir to the Russian Mafia. I can be whoever the fuck I want to be. The world stretches out before me with infinite possibilities, and each lungful of air tastes different to anything I breathed in at home. This is freedom.

This is life.

Katja leads me to a waiting taxi, and we stumble into the backseat, breathless from our escape. The driver, an older woman with wire glasses attached to a gold chain, swivels to face us, and she raises a penciled brow.

“Are you girls okay?” she asks, slightly alarmed.

Something about that question and how concerned she is tickles me, and I burst out laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp. “We’re okay. Just in a rush.”

“Alright, my dears.” She smiles and turns back to the wheel. “Where can I take you?”

“The biggest nightclub in the city,” Katja says, pulling a wad of crumpled bills from her purse and passing them forward. I hadn’t even thought of paying, but it seems Katja has thought of everything. She’s bending over backward to give me an amazing birthday present. I make a mental note to repay her tenfold when this is over.

“No problem, dear.” The woman chuckles, and she gathers up the bills. “Everyone buckled in?”

The world darts past the windows as we drive, and I can’t tear my gaze away. Never have I seen things so clearly. Any travel I’ve had in my life has been through protective blacked-out glass, and never have we driven into the heart of the city. We melt from the dark outskirts into the bright, buzzing circus of New York City, and my heart soars. We pass buildings lit up with wild, colorful neon lights, nightclubs and restaurants heaving with people. Men and women fill the streets dressed to the nines in fancy clothes and smart suits. I drink it all in with wide eyes, pressed up against the glass, while Katja chats away with the driver.

Everything is so beautiful. The city gleams like it’s covered in fallen stars, and the lights are so bright it’s easy to forget that it’s so late at night. My heart races so fast I barely even notice it anymore, and all thoughts of my father and the family fade from my mind.

I’m free.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up beside a large crowd of people. Over the top of their heads, a pink neon sign reading Gemini blinks at me.

“Alright, dears, here we are!”

“Thank you so much,” Katja exclaims, pressing a few more bills into the driver's hand.

“It’s no problem.” She chuckles, but she accepts them anyway.

“Yes, thank you!” I call and climb out of the taxi. An assortment of smells hits me immediately, from perfume and sweat to fast food that causes my gut to pull slightly. The possibilities are endless, and as Katja joins me, I immediately clutch at her hand.

“This is amazing!” I squeal, and Katja bounces alongside me.

“Right? Come on, let’s get in line.”

As we slot into the line of people awaiting entry, my mind races with the possibilities of what’s inside. The air thrums with the beat of the music pounding inside, matching the beat of excitement flooding through me. I’ll be in so much trouble when we get caught, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

My birthday is three weeks away, my marriage is three weeks away, and one night to be myself, to find out who I even am, is all I want. One night where I can just be me without the crushing weight of the responsibility I was born into.

The queue moves swiftly, and before long, we’re facing down a tall, muscular man who is seconds away from bursting his black T-shirt at the seams. Staring up at him in awe, it takes Katja nudging me with her elbow before I click and rummage through my bag for my fake ID.

“ID?” he asks, his deep voice catching me off guard. The card slips between my fingers, and it’s difficult to hide the tremble moving through me as I pass the ID over. Katja does the same, a bright smile on her face, and my heart leaps into my throat.

This is the one moment where the night could be over before it’s even begun.

He stares at both IDs, and a look of amused disbelief crosses his face when he looks back at us. It takes all my strength not to glance at Katja as the bouncer’s green eyes lock on me.

“You’re twenty-one?” he asks.

“Twenty-two, actually,” I answer quickly, remembering the date on my card. His brow lifts, then his gaze slowly drags down me. He takes in every inch and doesn’t hide it. Part of me feels like I should be indignant by his wandering gaze, but instead, it’s exciting. Especially when he gives a smirk of approval and hands our IDs back to us.

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