bird of prey

“ I  A M  sure that it does.” She said, without knowing what it really meant. Unsure whether she wanted to, but wise enough to spare some curiosity on the subject. Just in case. Summoning her courage, Helen gently pushed against the silent voice of reason that was cautioning her to bend so to not risk breaking. She reminded herself that many have tried to break her before. None of them could. In the face of the shark, the she-wolf bared her teeth and her smile was just as lovely, “as do I.”

Helen took great pride in her wit, her resourceful, but the compliment was like a bloodied hand that beckoned the back of her neck to stand to attention. Once more her father’s name had found its way on the shark’s tongue, yet it did not make it any less soothing the second time. Neither of them moved from their spot on the floor. Pride had determined that she would not give an inch back but apprehension warned against pushing too hard, too soon. It didn’t matter, the silent assessment of his eyes had already closed whatever distance remained. She was suffocated by him. “What are you hoping to gain here? What is it that you want exactly?” She didn’t have many cards to play against him to begin with, and in their game of wiles and half-truths, she hoped that her frankness might gain her back some ground. “You said that you wanted to see what all the fuss is about, well you’ve seen me. So why are you still here?”

“nothing. yet.” it was true. there was nothing he wanted from her that he could take now. she’d already proved herself too wary, and not possessing any of the traits that made people hard to control - ambition, greed, naivety, desperation. maksim knew he would have to wait for an inroad if the volki wished to make a profit off her, one that even a wily she-wolf could be coaxed down. 

“the den belongs to my associate. i believe it is well within my rights to be here as long as i please.” a cold chuckle escaped him, and he dropped his cigarette onto the concrete floor, blowing the final pull out through his nose as he stamped out the butt with his heel. “as for what i want - nothing just yet.” he paused for a moment, squaring her up with his stare. he switched back to russian, back to the language over which he had complete control. “but when there is, you’ll know about it.”

         ‘   of  course ,   ’      konstantin  replies ,  both  to  the  mention  of  appreciation  and  to  question  that  followed .  for  now ,  things  were  running  smoothly ,  and  there  was  nothing  he  could  think  of  that  was  needed .  yet ,  he  would  keep  the  offer  in  mind ;  perhaps  the  next  time  he  needed  new  equipment .   ‘   you  might  come  see  them  yourself  one  night ,   ’   he  offers ,  almost  as  an  afterthought ,  thinking  how  it  seemed  the  men  in  charge  only  came  before  or  after .   ‘   my  ability  to  recap  their  strengths  is  nothing  compared  to  seeing  it  actually  play  out .   ’

maksim chuckled. “i might.” but he wouldn’t. he spent too much time orchestrating conflict to take any joy in watching it be orchestrated for him. besides, the grit of the ring and a clamouring crowd were a little much for the particular parameters of control he liked to maintain with his surroundings. “i’ve never quite understood the appeal of the sport. but i have faith that i’m not at a loss taking your word for it, rakovsky.”

T H E Y  were two creatures who’d bore the brunt of war and violence coming into acquaintance; testing the will of the other through the guise of convention. Alas, she wasn’t much for decorum, and she was more animal than woman anyway. “I’m sure you could travel more if you really wanted to.” What kept her from travelling as much as she’d like was the simple matter of funds or the lack of it. If his shoes were any indication, Maksim was not under the thumb of the same cruel god. Quite the opposite, he was the master of it. Another reason to bend to this…organisation— if not out of fear than out of necessity. 

“I tired of France, and I’ve already been to Spain.” An answer that was altogether not untrue. Russia was supposed to be a stopover to make some money before she headed further East, although she elected not to reveal this particularly truth in case it persuaded what was meant to be a layover to a permanent residency. “In my experience, as long as someone has the will to want, no one is ever truly nice.” Her eyebrow cocked as she continued, daring another step closer. She knew the answer before she had even asked the question. The true test was whether he’d be as forthcoming with the truth. “Are you saying that you are more sinister than your charm suggests Mr. Solokov?”

“i could. but the desire to do so has never presented itself.” he said, cooly. “business has me more than occupied.” there was never a spare moment for himself among his days filled with managing the volki’s affairs, let alone time to go travelling. he’d never been a particularly adventurous soul, and the fact that every single time he’d stepped off russian soil he’d been met with misfortune was not particularly enticing. his place was in moscow, and it was unlikely that would change. 

the leytenant answers her with a shrug, an idle puff from his cigarette and a shark-like smile that crept onto his features without haste. “i have the will to want, i suppose.”  he affirmed, though it only justified his own civility (and this was maksim’s version of civility). she was smart, that was certain, and surprising, considering the fact maksim thought very little of most of her brothers-in-arms who worked at the den, with their smarts knocked out of them by each other’s fists. “you know,” he said, considering her for a moment and flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette onto the concrete floor. “you’re too smart to be a boxer, miss sánchez.”

        maksim  might  dismiss  the  thanks ,       but  to  him  it  did  matter .  both  vladimir  and  maksim  had  done  so  much  to  look  out  for  him ,  both  still  did ,  and  to  some  extent  the  younger  was  still  finding  a  way  to  help  in  return .  there  was  small  things  of  course ,  but  nikolai  wasn’t  sure  if  the  debt  he  owed  his  older  brothers  was  one  he  would  be  able  to  repay  in  one  lifetime ;  he  was  also  certain  that  it  didn’t  matter ,  that  no  such  debt  existed ,  but  he  saw  it  even  if  they  didn’t .  for  the  time  being ,  he  would  continue  to  light  a  candle  for  each  of  them  after  mass ,  making  a  case  to  god  on  their  behalf ,  certain  in  his  own  mind  that  they  were  good  souls ,  despite  what  others  might  say .  he  kept  such  things  to  himself  though ,  unsure  if  it  would  be  appreciated  or  not .  nikolai  nods  as  maksim  explains  the  details  of  the  conversation ,  waiting  to  swallow  before  he  answered .   ‘   i  see ,   ’   he  said ,  tilting  his  head  slightly  in  thought .  he  hoped  in  a  similar  way  to  maks ,  though  perhaps  more  selfishly ,  knowing  that  if  such  things  were  uncovered  he  would  likely  the  one  to  deal  with  it .   ‘   i’m  sure  you  and  vova  will  figure  it  out .  though  perhaps  i  can  help ,  if  you  need  anything .   ’   for  the  most  part  nikolai  was  still  separate from  most  of  the  operation ,  but  he  hopes  that  one  day  he  might  be  taken  up  on  his  offer ,  just  wanting  to  help  where  he  can .  a  quiet  laugh  leaves  him  when  maksim  mentions  the  horses ,  and  he  nods ,   ‘   because  he  loves  horses ,  maks ,  don’t  let  him  tell  you  otherwise .   ’

maksim had a suspicion that nikolai prayed for him and for vladimir. he had a suspicion that those prayers were the only reason the two of them still drew breath, for the only reason that two men so ruthless and ungodly could win the luck of heaven was through the advocacy of the most pious soul on gods green earth. the day god stopped listening would be the day maksim found himself at the pearly gates, and he would have a bone to pick with the almighty for ignoring the prayers of his little brother. the protection went both ways, though it was not private prayers with which the pakhan and the leytenant garnered nikolai’s safety - there was an agreement, perhaps it was unspoken, or perhaps it had been the subject of a solemn conversation the two of them had shared so many years ago that they both had forgotten, but they both worked hard to limit the effect of business on their youngest’s life. it was inevitable that sometimes he must be involved, and max knew vlad had trained nik well for the talents that ran in their blood in the event that that happened, but it did not make him any less eager to draw nikolai into the fold. “thank you, kolka, i will keep that in mind.” he rose, keeping his cigarette between his lips as he wandered over to the decanter of whiskey that was kept on the fireplace, pouring himself a glass. he smiles as he returns to his seat, even just to hear such a quiet laugh on a night like this. “i will never understand it. a horse is a depreciating asset. and we stick out like sore thumbs at the races.” he shook his head with a little chuckle, sipping heartily from his drink (something he never did not in trusted company). “but you’re right. he’s soft in the heart for the beasts, even if he won’t admit it. that’s why he takes in the wild ones that nobody else wants.” a bit like them, perhaps.

        he  nods  at  time  granted ,      having  not  much  else  to  add  to  the  discussion .  konstantin  follows  maksim’s  eyes  as  they  trace  the  space  they  share .  in  truth ,  he  had  not  touched  the  walls ,  nor  the  furniture ,  and  the  office  was  exactly  the  way  his  father  had  left  it ,  as  if  grigor  might  walk  in  the  door  one  day  and  take  it  back .  the  walls  held  memorabilia  of  the  careers  of  two  rakovskys ,  both  father  and  son .   ‘   people  seem  to  enjoy  it  and  return ,  yes .   ’

he appreciates konstantin’s brevity. there were far too many men in the volki’s rank these days who prattled on so much about insignificance that maksim had long stopped listening to them. for a man so decisively practical as he was, the facts were enough. “good, good.” he took another sip of vodka, measured and precise, just to remind himself of how much he disliked the taste. “you’re running a good operation here. the pakhan and i appreciate it.” he leveled rakovsy in his gaze. “you’ll be sure to let us know if there is anything you need to keep it that way?” 

S O  the dagger revealed its second edge, and Helen could not hide her surprise, or her curiosity, as well as she would have liked. The Russian was still heavily accented in each syllable, but the confidence was of one who knew too well what he was saying to simply pass as a casual speaker. He understood the language. He understood hers. Not her mother tongue perhaps, but a close second. A person who knew less might have felt at ease, and perhaps a small (albeit reluctant) part of her was, but Helen knew better than to trust it. Violence was dangerous, but charm was even more so.

“California, Texas, New Mexico, Illinois, New York. Like I said, I traveled.” Alas, Helen was not ignorant to his pause, and knew to weed any seed of suspicion before it can take root. “Paso más tiempo en España. I also spent a lot of time in Spain.” She approached the edge of the ring, daring a step closer to the blade, careful to keep distance, but bolder than she was. He didn’t need to know that this was not her first time walking the edge of a knife, but she would show him that she won’t bend so easily. “Seems you have too. Travelled, I mean.”

he reveled in the way surprise was painted across her features. to him, that was what knowledge was for, to keep against ones chest like a perfect deal of cards until it could be used to destabilize another, or at least to spark curiosity. “you have certainly been around.” he answered, still in perfect english marred only by a russian accent, showing that he was impressed  but only in the smallest of degrees.  it had been a while since he’d had the chance to speak the tongue his father had taught him in an attempt to lure him off the continent and into a life far less dangerous, but like all his blades, maksim kept it sharp. 

“i have, though it seems far less than you.” he watched her approach down his nose. “england, scotland. france too, during the war, but i would hardly call that travelling.” the only souvenirs he had brought back from france were scars and regrets and hatred for the tsar and his minions who had sent them all to die. “you’ve been to a great many places that sound far more pleasant than here; why come to russia? i hear that spain is far more temperate.” he blew cigarette smoke slowly over one shoulder. “and that the people are far nicer.” 

        nikolai  did  not  seek  it  out ,        but  there  was  comfort  in  touch ;   the  feeling  of  maksim’s  arm  around  him  could  do  nothing  but  make  him  feel  safe .  while  he  would  prefer  the  elder  didn’t  worry ,  he  won’t  argue  the  point .  it  might  not  be  either  of  their  jobs ,  not  officially ,  but  vladimir  and  maksim  had  been  undeniably  watching  over  nikolai  since  this  all  begun .  the  younger  watches  the  motions  it  takes  for  maksim  to  light  his  cigarette  but ,  once  again ,  remains  quiet .  he  was  quite  used  to  the  way  things  were  done  by  this  point ,  and  this  was  expected .  patiently  he  waits ,  before  taking  the  lighter  that  was  offered .  he  picks  up  a  jacket  he  had  worn  the  day  before  from  where  in  hung  on  the  bedpost ,  retrieving  a  cigarette  from  the  pocket .  he  goes  to  light  it ,  but  pauses  when  he’s  instructed  to  change .  he  nods ,  somewhat  embarrassed  once  maksim  points  it  out ,  but  glad  for  the  reminder .   ‘  yes .  i’ll  see  you  in  a  moment .  ’   once  he  is  alone  in  his  room ,  he  moves  to  the  wardrobe  and  finds  himself  a  new  shirt  and  pair  of  pants .  the  nikolai  who  emerges  from  the  room  looks  fresh  and  more  alive  than  the  one  who  had  been  lying  in  bed  moments  before .  cigarette  is  lit  as  he  moves  down  the  stairs  to  the  dining  room ,  taking  a  seat  and  sliding  the  lighter  back  to  its  owner .  soft  smile  appears  as  max  explains  that  the  meal  fits  nikolai’s  restrictions  for  the  day ,  he  knew  neither  of  his  brothers  were  steadfast  in  their  beliefs ,  so  the  care  that  was  taken  to  remember  his  particulars  meant  much  to  him .  ‘   thank  you ,  max .  ’   quick  prayer  of  thanks  is  said  over  the  plate ,  barely  more  than  a  whisper  and  the  sign  of  the  cross ,  and  he  begins  to  eat .   '   what  did  you  and  vladimir  have  to  talk  about    ?    everything  alright   ?   ’

he knew that touch was a rare thing in this house, at least it had been since the war had rendered vladimir unable to reciprocate any kind of closeness. he tried, and though he knew he could never replace nikolai’s blood brother, he gave what he could to provide some sense of normalcy and comfort. it brought him a flicker of hope and satisfaction to see nikolai enter the room looking, at least outwardly, a little less unkempt. he nodded and dragged his cigarette through the air in a gesture of dismissal. there was no need to thank him for looking after someone he loved - it was a role he was better suited to even than being leytenant. he knew the ins and outs of it like the back of his own hand - he knew to keep silences to let nikolai pray, he could preempt the rhythms of his favorite piano pieces, he could tell whether the taps of shoes in a hallway belonged to a volkov, and he silently kept track of every habit that he thought might pose a threat to the wellbeing of his baby brother, though he hadn’t been a baby in a long while, and he’d never really been his brother - too-long sleeps, too-wrinkled shirts, too many hours between mealtimes, each was logged with the same fastidious care maksim gave the bratva’s ledgers. “there’s talk that one of our guys down at the boneyard might be passing intel on to the police. vlad wants a plan to figure out if the whispers are true, and what we’re going to do about them if they are.” he hoped, for the sake of the accused, that the whispers were not not, and simultaneously, for the sake of the shestyorka who’d spread the whispers, that they were. somebody was in the wrong, and they would suffer for it. that was the volki’s way. “nothing new, and surely nothing volodya and i can’t handle in time.” he sighed as if the prospect of dealing with it bored him. “and i’ve been going over the books -so i need to ask him why he’s spending so much fucking money on new racehorses this season.” the leytenant added, though it was more a joke than anything. 

       ‘   it  might  be .   ’      he  ponders ,  careful  with  the  choices  he  makes  here .  he  takes  a  sip  of  his  own  drink ,  and  takes  a  moment  in  thought .   ‘   she’s     curious ,     asks  questions .  smart  and  a  good  fighter ,  like  i  said ,  but  i  don’t  know  much  about  her .   ’   he  liked  her ,  but  such  sentiment  was  not  what  maksim  was  looking  for  he  was  sure .   ‘   i  think  she  is  a  strong  contender ,  but  we  might  give  her  time .   ’   none  of  it  was  untrue ,  and  he  stood  to  protect  the  volki  in  the  way  he  acted .  however ,  it  also  gave  him  time  to  speak  with  helen  herself ,  lay  out  the  situation  for  her  from  a  perspective  that  didn’t  comes  from  the  maws  of  wolves .

maksim pondered the former-boxer’s words, each one as important as the one before. “very well. time it shall be given.” he’d meet the woman, gauge her interest, and lie in wait. there was no rush, and he certainly had bigger fish to fry than upping the already satisfactory takings of the den. with all his usual serene languid way of moving, he took another slow drag on his cigarette as the ember neared the end. the leytenant’s eye roamed idly around the room, and eventually settled back on rakovsky. “are you still seeing large crowds, generally?” 

“ I   D O N ’ T  think god has anything to do with it.” Helen noticed how Maksim’s lips took on the form of each syllable, drawn out and languid, as if he’s holding it on his tongue with all the time in the world—savouring it. Something of pride wormed its way into his delight as he turned his gaze from the Den back to her. She liked it even less how it hung onto her father’s name. She wondered if it was an intentional thing, to test whether she would waver under his weight. She did not.

“America.” She said without missing a beat. This was not technically a untrue. Besides from her real home she had spent the most years there, certainly enough time for her to pass for one even if she had no citizenship to go with her lie. Frankly, she did not wish to divulge that private part of her history to someone who could easily sharpen that tender thing to a fine point to stab her with should the fancy strike him. “I’ve traveled a bit.”

she seemed overtly wary. normally those he approached in this manner had at least a small amount of curiosity in their voices. helen seemed as though she was drawing lines in the sand that should not be crossed, putting up protective fences to ensure he and his associates could not bring them down like the walls of troy. she was smart, that much was clear. but he would not be proposing any sort of business arrangement today. it too risky, and he had always been a patient man.

“america?” maksim took a moment to consider her answer. it wasn’t what he’d expected, he knew an american accent when he heard one, and what laced helen’s russian was more akin to the italic lilt he recognised on the tongues of the galician mafia men who sometimes made themselves known in moscow. he switched to english in a heartbeat. “which part?”

         he  groans  slightly  as  he  moves ,       body  stiff  from  his  prolonged  sleep .   legs  swing  over  the  side  of  the  bed  and  bring  him  upright ,  yet  as  he  stands  he  still  has  to  tilt  his  head  upward  to  look  at  the  man  he  considers  his  second  older  brother .  he  sighs ,  shoulders  heaving  slightly .  he  doesn’t  mean  to  ignore  what  is  needed  to  care  for  himself ,  his  brain  simply  isn’t  reliable  in  the  same  way  others  are .  whatever  part  of  him  that  was  supposed  to  remind  you  of  such  things ,  like  getting  out  of  bed  or  making  sure  you  ate  and  changed  your  clothes ,  it  was  quieter  now ,  almost  inaudible .  at  the  mention  of  food ,  he  can  tell  that  max  is  right :      he  is  starving .     he  had  slept  through  dinner  the  night  before  and  wasn’t  certain  of  the  meal  before  that ,  but  he  wouldn’t  share  that  with  the  other .  nikolai  did  not  want  maksim  to  have  to  worry  about  him  like  this ,  and  he  would  keep  things  that  would  only  concern  him  further  to  himself .   ‘   alright ,  yes   ’   he  nods ,  before  yawn  escapes  again .  wrinkled  shirt  is  pressed  down  with  hands ,  smoothing  it  out  or  trying  to ,  as  if  that  was  enough ,  before  he  moves  toward  the  door .   ‘   is  it   ?   ’   he  inquires ,  for  he’s  unsure  what  else  to  say .   ‘   i  was  just  tired ,  max .  please  don’t  worry  about  it .   ’

maksim doesn’t bother to hide the unimpressed look on his face as he watches nikolai smooth down the wrinkles in his shirt, but he says nothing. “i’ll worry about you no matter what state you’re in. it’s my job, kolka.” he says, putting his arm around the younger wolf’s neck in a gesture that spoke innately of fondness. from the minute they had met it had been his task to make sure nikolai was alright, and it was a job maksim did with pride.it is only to take a cigarette from his pocket that he retracts his hand, sparking his lighter and shutting it off once, twice, three times as he was always compelled to do before letting the flame linger long enough to light it. he stores it in his mouth before lighting another with one, two, three clicks of the lighter again, before handing it to nik. “i’ll go tell the cook to bring something up - vlad’ll be back soon, maybe if he’s here in time maybe we can all eat together.” that might be good for nik, he thought, some stability, some sense that the three of them were not ships in the night, passing through. “in the meantime, change your shirt. you were wearing it last time i saw you.” he scolded, with all the good-natured mirth of an older brother giving his sibling a nudge. “i’ll meet you in the dining room.” and with a puff of cigarette smoke, he dipped out of the room with a quietness not normally associated with a man of his size. he knew the corridors of the estate better than all but two others, and though he was not a volkov, the few trusted members of staff that vladimir kept around knew him to be the next best thing. he pressed haste from the cook, before returning to the main room armed with a plate of pirozhki that had been intended for dinner which she had thrust into his hands when he had mentioned nikolai was hungry. “it’s wednesday. there’s no meat, no eggs, no milk.” he sat down at the table and pushed the plate towards him. “eat.” 

        he  nods .      he  figures  it  isn’t  best  form  to  tell  the  leytenent     not  to  worry ,     but  if  it  was  acceptable  he  would  have .   konstantin  was  keeping  a  close  eye  on  piero ,  though  it  was  for  his  sake  and  not  for  volki  money ,  and  he  felt  confident  he’d  notice  if  he  needed  to  be  pulled  from  the  ring  before  things  went  wrong .  the  diminutive  was  nothing  too  interesting ,  as  maksim  might  find  if  he  pulled  that  threat ,  just  a  trainer  who  was  friendly  with  those  he  worked  with .   ‘   a  good  while  now ,  ’   he  answered ,   ‘   she  came  in  to  spar ,  clearly  had  the  strength  and  some  natural  talent ,  but  a  bit  rough .  i  don’t  think  she  had  formal  training  before  this ,  but  i’m  working  with  her .   ’   to  make  sure  she  didn’t  injure  herself  or  someone  else  more  than  was  needed .  when  she  had  first  arrived ,  she  fought  like  something  backed  into  a  corner      (   little  care  for  how  but  that  she  won   ) ,      but  he  was  trying  guide  her  strength  into  something  more  practiced .

maksim nods in return. konstantin is a smart man, a reliable man if his track record is anything to treat as gospel. the leytenant trusted he had gotten the message, and that he would see to it that the volki’s interests were assured. “you think its worth bringing her in?” he asks, taking a small sip from the vodka, pointing out the door with the same fingers that held the glass. “you’re making a killing out there, but there’s more to take, and, by the sounds of it, another boxer to use to do so.” his words were measured, decisive, the product of hours of consideration about where to up takings, and how best to do so. “your cut would go up proportionally, of course. and a fair amount to her. if she’s the type to be trusted, of course.”

H E L E N  grew up swimming with sharks, and while it has been some time since she’s been so close to this particular sort, it was not a lesson easily forgotten. “Oh, I see.” She said, and no more. To say or do anything that might cause it to stir was a sure invitation for it to take a bite; drag her down to the depth she had laboured so hard to leave— had sacrificed so much to.

Alas, there were some natures that were too noble curb, and not even the gentle voice of caution could bend its ear to the contradictory. In any case, Helen had already proven that she could not play the game of deception nearly as well as Maksim apparently could, so she tried her hand at frankness instead. “And would that be the day matches or the night brawls?” She said, and there was nothing to suggest revolt merely a statement of fact; an invitation for candour. “I always wondered what Konstantin spends it all on. Certainly not on that light down the hall that’s been flickering for weeks. I guess now I know.”

“you know the answer to that just as well as i do.” maksim was happy to let her fill in the blanks herself. most of the night brawls were fixed so that the volki bookies could make a killing, and the ones that weren’t were often won by piero, whom the volki championed as their own. it was a lucrative business they operated here, but maksim saw opportunity to up that. another boxer in their employ meant more fights fixed, more money in their pockets. a woman on their fixed card was certain to draw out a few more bets. 

“god only knows.” he’d make sure when she returned to the den the next morning the light was flickering no more. it would be a small signal that he helped those who helped him, and a threat that he missed nothing. he paused for a moment, casting a discerning eye around the den. “tell me, miss sánchez,” the leytenant drawled, curious. “where’s that accent from? ” 

I T  only occurred to Helen then that she’s looked down the barrel of far too many guns in her short lifetime. Even as he smiled, extended his hand to her (as a gentleman might), she felt the return of the same unease. She never liked guns. She didn’t feel all too confident about Maksim Sokolov either. “I thought Konstantin is the owner of the ring.” That was a lie, and it sounded like it too. She’s noticed Maksim frequently enough to know that- that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t sure the game he was playing, but she learned quickly that she was bad at it. When you were bad at something you needed to get better, and for her sake, it better be soon.

“Well now you’ve seen the fuss. I hope it’s worth getting dressed up for.” She tipped her head towards his feet, “those look like nice shoes.”

maksim humoured her farce, and offered a shark-like smile as he shook her hand. “rakovsky does a good job here, he trains the boxers, and manages the day to day, but no, ownership lies in other hands.” volki hands. his words were measured, spoken with no particular haste or urgency, as was his way. other people would wait for him. 

"time will tell.” max never went anywhere dressed anything less than immaculately. it was armour and protection just as much as the gun strapped under his arm beneath his coat was. “oh they are.” bought with funds this den had raised, no doubt. “there’s money to be made on the fighting, you see.” after dark, at least.