Page 25 of The Pretty Savage

You're Vega Konstantinova.

You're a shadow.

"I'm sorry, Yolanda," I yelled out, hoping she could hear me just as I took her hand in mine, pulling us both up. "I thought you were someone else."

She was still obviously rattled, her entire body locked up tight, but she didn't take a step back. Her tear-filled eyes bothered me and I hated that I was the one to cause that.

"I really am sorry," I said, leaning closer to her ear. "Forgive me, please?"

"It's okay." Her smile was shaky. "Where, uh—" She cleared her throat, before leaning down to my ear. "Where did you learn to move like that? You were so fast!"

"Back home." I smiled, happy to see that her usual chattiness was coming back. "I can teach you."

"You can?" she exclaimed. "Really?"

"Yes." I nodded. "Really. I can teach you how to defend yourself. You never know when you might need it."

"But I'm not a very good fighter."

"You don't have to be." I shrugged. "But you do need to be able to defend yourself from anyone and anything. The world we live in isn't exactly the prettiest one, so…" I trailed off, rubbing a hand over my neck, hoping that the feeling of his eyes on me would disappear. "We can schedule something, just the two of us."

"I would love that." She grinned, clasping her hands together. "Do you want to drink something?" she asked, looking over my shoulder, and I really, really didn't want to go where he stood.

His presence unsettled me, and I hated feeling like this.

"Uh…"

"Come on." She grabbed my hand just as I lifted my coat up from the floor. "It'll be okay."

She turned me around, facing the bar now, but when my eyes landed on the spot where the stranger stood, he was no longer there. Something akin to disappointment came to life in my chest and before it could spread through my body, I squashed it down, unwilling to even think about it.

Yolanda marched to the bar as if she owned the place, and for a second there I saw the true Swedish mafia princess, used to getting whatever she wanted, at least on the outside. I didn’t think she even realized how thick her armor was and how much it distorted the real picture of who she was, but I guess the only way to survive in this world was to wear a mask in front of those that were the enemies, and much like her, I wore mine every day.

The only difference was, I had no one and nothing and I often forgot that my mask wasn't who I truly was.

I tuned Yolanda out as she ordered the drinks for us and looked around, trying to recognize the people walking around, but with their masks on, even with only half their faces showing, it was impossible to identify them. The file Alena gave me contained information on almost every single student that attended the Academy, both past and present, along with their pictures and any additional information we could get our hands on, which I was grateful for.

I loved knowing what I was getting myself into, and while Alena and I were not exactly friends, she knew how I preferred things to be done. Coming to the Academy was already fucking with all my plans, but I would endure.

I always did.

There was no other way for me.

"Here you go," Yolanda said, giving me a glass filled with red liquid and enough ice to freeze my vocal cords.

"What is this?"

"Vodka cranberry." She smiled. "I didn't know what you would like to have, so I went with the safest option."

"And vodka was the safest option?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Well…" The smile slipped from her face as she tried to find the words. "You are Russian, aren't you?" And here I thought that maybe the people in this place wouldn't be filled with the same prejudices as the rest of the world.

"I am," I said. "But not all Russians like vodka, and not all of us are okay with the stereotypes going around."

"Oh my God," she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just?—"

"I know," I said somberly, before letting the laughter I was keeping tightly locked in erupt from my chest. "I'm just joking with you. I do love vodka cranberry." Not like I drank on a daily basis, but it was one drink that was basic enough and with the amount of ice they used in these things that managed to water it down, I was able to mingle and still stay sober enough to maintain my control. "Cheers." I knocked my glass against hers and took a sip of the drink.

---