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"We’ll find you something you like."
Polina claps her hands together in glee when we make it to the dining room. My mother sits in the background, tapping on an iPad.
"Mikhail. Aria! It's so good to see you. I wondered if you’d ever let her come down.”
They seem remarkably calm.
They haven't been told of the attack. Why would they be? My brothers had it covered. Aria gives me a questioning look, and when I shake my head, she shrugs and sits next to my mother.
"How are you feeling?" my mother asks, reaching for Aria’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Much better. Still kind of yucky, like I have weird aversions, and cravings, and nausea comes and goes all the time. I can't stop crying over everything.”
“Understandable. I got you something."
"Did you? "Aria says, her shining eyes looking at me in surprise. I knew she'd love my mother. I knew my mother would love her. But right now, I have more important things to worry about.
I call all my brothers down to the dining room so we can go over what just happened and fill my sister and mother in as well.
“Oh my goodness, I love these.” Aria unwraps a set of Matryoshka dolls, traditionally known as Russian nesting dolls here in America.
"You know each doll contains a smaller one, and I thought it would symbolize the stages of pregnancy, as you get further along.”
"Thank you!"
She pulls out a package of herbal teas designed for pregnant mothers, a little tin of pastilles you melt under the tongue for nausea, and a soft, thick woolen shawl.
"In Russian tradition, it's exceptionally important for pregnant women to stay warm. While your body uses up all your resources to grow that child, you have to take care of yourself. Here, I made this myself." She arranges the shawl over Aria's shoulders. I'm alarmed to see Aria wiping at her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers, leaning in to give my mother a kiss on her cheek.
Aleks storms into the dining room, his eyes on Aria. ""Good. You're here. We need to put our heads together. Goddamn drones."
“Oh my God, tell me about it." Aria rolls her eyes at me. "Drones are one of the hardest devices to track. It has to do with short range communication, the way they are so rapidly mobile, and how everything is encrypted."
"Right. The ones Volkov’s using have anti-jamming techniques. It means they’re built to resist any attempt to stop them from communicating."
"He's been at this for some time, Aleks.”
I can't blame Aleks for this. I've never made my private home part of his responsibility. And while he recently came in to help with surveillance and security, it's still new to him.
Viktor storms into the room next, formidable and intimidating. He's been working out in the home gym with Nikko, because when Nikko comes in, I notice they're both wearing thin workout tanks and shorts, sweat still glistening on their skin.
Viktor takes a look at the large platter of bread on the table. "Are we eating lunch?”
"Of course we're eating lunch, sweetheart,” my mother says as she rises to her feet. "I'm glad you're hungry."
When Viktor came to us, he was severely malnourished and underfed. My mother took great delight in making his favorite meals and feeding him thoroughly until he put on weight. In high school, he started lifting and honing his body to where it is now.
Nikko sits at the table, bottle of water in his hand. "I interrogated him myself,” he says, obviously not caring that our mother is within earshot, Polina is somewhere nearby, and my wife is sitting right next to me. "He knows almost nothing. I don't blame our questioning techniques. It seems like Volkov doesn't have much of a plan. He's flying by the seat of his pants, and from what information I’ve gathered, his own brothers don't trust him anymore.”
“It makes sense,” Aleks says. “His reckless disregard for the rules we all agreed on. Dangerous risks, like drones and sending new inductees here to fulfill whatever it is he demands.” He shakes his head.
“And Kolya says Volkov is losing his mind. We can no longer reason with him.”
I lean back in my chair, thinking.
“If he’s unpredictable, we won’t sit waiting anymore. We’ll work as usual because he will strike when he thinks we’d least expect it. Tomorrow, we’re back to work and we stay vigilant and in constant communication.”
