Chapter 1

  Sahiro Macario had never really been close to his family. In truth, he barely knew them. He never even got to know his birth parents and was raised by his older sister Walentrya, under the watchful eye of their grandmother, Quadira. The siblings lived in a cramped apartment in Kazan, Russia, ever since a gang burned down their house years earlier. Sahiro was sixteen now, ten years younger than Walentrya. Tall at six-foot-two, he was fit, though people often mistook him for being skinny.

  It was 6:06 AM on May 13th, 1981. Sahiro woke from a horrible dream. His room was dark as always; the sun rarely broke through the skies in Kazan, giving the city the look of a perpetual November afternoon. The only time he remembered feeling real sunlight was five years ago, when Walentrya had taken him to Texas. The heat, the brightness—it felt like another world.

  He dragged himself out of bed and stepped into the shower. As usual, the water was icy. Hot water was a rare luxury—maybe once a week, if they were lucky.

  Sahiro left his hair messy, combing it just enough so it didn’t look too wild. He pulled on a white jacket over a plain gray shirt, black jeans, and his Timberlands—his sister’s birthday gift to him. He never left home without them.

  With school an hour away, he had time for breakfast. As he entered the kitchen, he found Walentrya already waiting with a plate of fried eggs and a glass of orange juice. She always woke up before him—holidays, vacations, it didn’t matter. She set her own cup of tea on the table and smiled.

  “Morning, Sahiro!” she said.

  “Good morning, Walentrya,” Sahiro replied, trying not to sound sad.

  “Did you sleep well?” Walentrya asked.

  “Not really,” Sahiro replied, his tone unchanged.

  “Was it that dream again?” she asked concerningly.

  “Yeah, but I’m over it,” he replied, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Well, they’re simply dreams, not reality,” Walentrya reassured him.

  “Yeah… you’re right. Thanks for the breakfast, sis,” Sahiro said as he dug into his breakfast.

  “Of course! Want me to drop you off at school on my way to work?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” Sahiro said while sipping on his orange juice.

  “Don’t be silly, finish your breakfast, I’ll meet you outside.”

  Sahiro usually biked to school. He loved his sister, but she could be overprotective. He didn’t blame her, though. When she was nineteen, Walentrya went on a field trip to Serbia. It had left her so traumatized that she forbade him from speaking to their grandmother. Every time Sahiro asked about the trip, she changed the subject. Still, he often accepted her offers to drive him.

  After brushing his teeth and grabbing his bag, he slid into his sister’s car. She worked at a big, popular diner chain across Russia, and at her location, she was one of the top waitresses—practically running the place.

  They pulled out into traffic, stuck behind ten cars at a light.

  “C’mon, can this thing turn green any slower?” Walentrya muttered, drumming her fingers on the wheel.

  Sahiro gazed out the window. The city was gray, drizzle tapping against the glass. Kazan was the only place he had ever known. He always wanted to travel, but whenever he mentioned it, Walentrya scolded him: You’re not ready for the bigger world out there. Even now, echoing in his ear.

  Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, in a nearby alley—two men. One wore a black suit, calm as stone. The other, a smaller man in a gray hoodie, oversized jeans, and a black beanie—trembling.

  “Where is the money?” the suited man demanded.

  “I…I told you, they’re at my house, I for...forgot them.” The smaller man stuttered.

  “You understand the boss does not tolerate tardiness; she expects her pay on time.”

  “I... I know... listen, I can get it right now, just pl... Please don’t fucking kill me, man, I’m…begging.”

  The man in the beanie dropped to his knees, sobbing. The man in the black suit was like a statue—immovable. Only his eye muscles moved, which just terrified the other man even more.

  “Okay,” said the suited man, voice flat and terrifying.

  The hooded man looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes, and his shaking slowly stopped.

  “You…you mean it, man?” he asked.

  The man in the suit nodded, and the hooded man almost smiled in relief. He jogged back—but the suited man pulled out a .50 caliber handgun and fired five times into his back.

  Sahiro flinched; he'd seen movie gunfights but never heard real-life gunfire before. Walentrya quickly rolled up both windows.

  “That’s the problem with this goddamn place,” she said coldly. “Kazan and Russia in general is run by the mafia and gangs. They fight for power while ruining lives.” She glanced at her younger brother. “You, okay?” He only nodded, pale and shaken.

  The lights turned green. They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the school, Walentrya stopped at the front where all the students entered. “Hey,” she said softly, before Sahiro could open the door, still visibly shaken up from what happened earlier. “Forget what you saw. After school, I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant.”

  “Обжора!?” (Russian for Big Eater) Sahiro’s eyes lit up.

  She nodded. His mood immediately brightened. He got out of the car and waved goodbye to his sister as she drove off.

  He walked inside—Katrina, a girl who was clearly fond of him, approached. She was half his height, wore a pink hoodie, and kept her hair in a bun.

  “Hi, Sahiro!” she said cheerfully.

  “Hey,”

  “How was your day yesterday after school?”

  “It was fine, didn’t really do much.”

  “Did you study for the finals?”

  “Barely. I finished my English assignment, and that took off half my time.” He lied — he was doing yardwork while Walentrya was working overtime.

  “Oh man, I tried, but I fell asleep halfway ha-ha.” She lied too; she’d have a slumber party with her friends instead of doing assignments.

  “Guess it must’ve been boring then.” Sahiro chuckled, trying not to sound disinterested.

  Sahiro was feeling awkward at this point. He didn’t want to tell her off because he didn’t want any drama.

  “How’s your sister?” Katrina asked, trying to continue the conversation.

  “Oh, she’s fine,” he replied firmly.

  “Hey, so I was wondering—" before she could finish her sentence, “HEY SAHIRO!!!” echoed from the cafeteria.

  Sahiro instantly turned, and it was his three best friends—his only friends, really—Radford Petrov, Yankira Volkova, and Cadoc Alekseev, sitting at their usual table. Sahiro didn’t bother to let Katrina finish her sentence. “Sorry, I’ll talk to you later,” he said, rushing for his seat. Katrina went to her table in the cafeteria with her group of friends, still staring at Sahiro. “Why do you even like him?” her friend muttered. “He doesn’t even know you exist.” Her friend told her. “I don’t know,” responded Katrina. “There’s something about him.” Her eyes remained glued to him. Sahiro took a seat next to Radford and set his bag on the side.

  “You know, Sahiro, you shouldn’t lead that girl on. I think she likes you.” Yankira said, concerned

  “I know,” Sahiro admitted

  “So why haven’t you said anything to her? Do you not like her back?” Yankira asked.

  “It’s not that, I just have a lot of stuff going on, you know?” Sahiro responded

  Radford leaned back in his chair.

  “That’s right—because whenever someone gets a girlfriend, you forget everything about yourself. Your friends. What you wear. Your favorite foods. Your favorite shows.” He swung his arm around Sahiro’s shoulders.

  “Is that why your girlfriend left you?” Sahiro shot back.

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  “For the record,” Radford said, “I left her.”

  “But she said—"

  “Okay, hold on, Mr. Rumor,” Radford cut in. “Whatever comes out of that woman’s mouth is completely and utterly false. I never even went to her house once. There’s no way people believe in her.

  “I know,” Sahiro said with a smirk. “I’m just messing around.”

  The two friends high-fived.

  Radford was tall—about three inches shorter than Sahiro. He didn’t talk much unless he was around his friends. He had long ginger-red hair, wore glasses, hiking boots, cargo pants, a blue flannel and a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon shirt.

  Cadoc finished his breakfast and looked up.

  “’Y’know, if I were you, Sahiro, I’d just ignore her. That’s how you let her know you’re not interested.”

  “No way,” Yankira said. “That’s mean—and it would make things worse.”

  “Yeah,” Sahiro agreed, “Plus, I don’t want to cause drama.”

  “Aye, smart,” Radford said. “That way you won’t have to go through what happened to me.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up, Radford,” Cadoc said. “You were a hot topic for like a week. Then everyone forgot and started talking about how some girl wore a different outfit than yesterday.”

  “Hey, fuck you, Cadoc,” Radford snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like being called a goddamn rapist for a week.”

  “HEY—stop it!” Sahiro raised his voice. “That happened in the past. Let’s just all forget about it.”

  About a year ago, Radford ended a relationship that lasted nearly six months. The week after they broke up, the girl accused him of rape—an accusation he and his friends knew was false. For an entire week, students mocked and bullied him. The school board even launched an investigation.

  It wasn’t until the girl’s father came forward and admitted his daughter had lied—saying he respected Radford as a person—that the truth came out. Radford never accepted the apology. By then, the damage was already done. The accusation had stained his reputation, even after it was disproven.

  Cadoc, on the other hand, was short—five-foot-two. Almost everyone towered over him. He was funny in a way that either earned him friends or enemies, and many students believed he had more of the latter. He had curly brown hair and wore a long-sleeve shirt with a short-sleeve red shirt layered over it, baggy pants, and Converse.

  Yankira was like the mother of the group. She gave the boys advice, kept them in line, and made sure none of them did anything stupid. She was also the smartest out of the three. She had dirty-blond hair and wore a black leather jacket over a pink shirt, skinny white pants, and Nikes.

  The bell rang, and the students scattered towards their classes. Sahiro and Yankira shared the same class, so they walked together.

  “Like I said,” Yankira continued, “don’t be rude—just tell her how you feel. By the looks of it, she’s stupidly in love with you. So, like… let her down easy.”

  “I know,” Sahiro said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t want all this drama.”

  “Hey,” Yankira said, nudging him, “who cares about the drama? It’s just a bunch of random people who’ve never spoken a word to you in their lives. You should be worried about how we feel. Your friends.”

  “Yeah,” Sahiro said after a moment, “I guess you’re right.”

  Classes passed quickly after that. Yankira walked with him to English. He sat through Art while Cadoc cracked nonstop jokes, then Science, where Radford ended up doing most of the work for him.

  Finally, it was lunch, the group’s favorite time of day. No papers. No tests. No exploding chemicals, or teachers nagging at them. Just each other.

  Sahiro rushed toward the lunch line, stomach growling, while Radford headed to their usual table with the others. He was grabbing his tray when a deep voice whispered his name.

  “Sahiro.”

  He froze—the voice came again, louder but not in the air. Inside his head.

  His heart began to race. He grabbed his tray and scanned the room, searching for the source. That’s when he saw him: a man sitting alone on a bench outside. Late twenties, maybe early thirties.

  Sahiro’s friends were already wondering where he’d gone. Cadoc pointed through the window, laughing, seeing Sahiro sitting outside by himself—as if he were meeting someone.

  “That’s right,” the voice said. “C’mere.”

  Sahiro swallowed and stepped closer. “Um… can I help you? For a whisper, you sounded really loud in my head.” The man didn’t smile.

  “Sahiro,” he said calmly, “I need to talk to you.”

  “How… how do you know my name?” Sahiro asked.

  Something twisted in his stomach. He was quiet by nature—kept to himself. Most people barely knew he existed. “Who is this guy?” Sahiro thought to himself. He stood up and turned to leave. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves, kid,” the man said.

  Suddenly, Sahiro felt lighter. Too light. He looked down and realized he was hovering above the school. Panic seized him. Then the sky vanished. No blue. No clouds. No sun. Just an endless black void, scattered with tiny white points of light. Space. Sahiro thrashed, breath coming fast, unsure how he was even alive—how he was moving at all. He searched for the man. But he was gone.

  Then, without warning, the man appeared in front of him—standing solid, not floating. Sahiro finally got a clear look.

  The man wore an open jacket with the hood up. His eyes were pure black. Long gray hair streaked with black fell past his shoulders. Beneath the jacket was no shirt, just a strap across his chest. A belt with a large letter A buckle sat at his waist, two straps wrapping around it. Gray-and-black striped leather pants and black boots. He stood there calmly, as if he’d done this many times before. Waiting.

  “My name is Alyosha,” the man said. “I’m an assassin.”

  “An assassin?” Sahiro forced a nervous laugh. “What… what did I do?”

  “Mmm,” Alyosha hummed. “Nothing. But you are related to our rivals.”

  “Rivals?” Sahiro said. “Like… school rivals?”

  “No,” Alyosha replied. “Gang rivals.”

  “Gang?” Sahiro replied. “I thought those were in the states.”

  Alyosha tilted his head. “Don’t be an idiot. Every place in the world has gangs, mafias, drug dealers, and assassins. People want drugs—we sell them at triple the cost. People want others dead—we only charge a small fee. Half the richest people in the world have ties to this life.”

  “Listen,” Sahiro said quickly. “You have to be confused. I don’t have ties to gangs. I barely know my family. I don’t even know what drugs look like.”

  Alyosha drifted closer. The air grew heavy and cold. Sahiro’s lungs tightened.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Alyosha said calmly. “Once I drop your lifeless body at their feet, they’ll kiss the ground I walk on and beg me not to kill you.”

  Sahiro froze. He had never thrown a punch in his life. Alyosha looked like he was ready to snap his neck, but Sahiro didn’t aim—he just swung, like he’d seen on TV, and the universe answered him. He hit him hard enough that he flew back for what seemed like an eternity. Now, Sahiro realized he was able to stand in mid-star space. Sahiro felt strong, but that feeling ended as soon as Alyosha appeared in front of him and wiped the blood from his lip. He began to chuckle to himself.

  Alyosha chuckled. “What strong power you have, little man.”

  Alyosha rushed him, landing a punch. Sahiro’s vision turned white. It didn’t even feel human; something cracked in Sahiro’s jaw. Blood filled his mouth. Alyosha then threw an uppercut, causing Sahiro to go flying upwards as if Superman was taking him into space. As Sahiro was hurdling upwards, Alyosha appeared and grabbed him by the leg and hurled him downward. Space shattered—and Sahiro crashed through the roof of the school and smashed into a table, breaking it in the process. The whole cafeteria rushed towards the scene, but Alyosha flew towards the crack. His eyes were glowing red, surging with energy, and that same energy formed around his hands. Alyosha punched the floor, and everyone except Alyosha and Sahiro turned to dust and bones. All of the students’ screams were silenced in a matter of seconds. Alyosha turned back and walked towards Sahiro, looking halfway dead; he was bleeding from his forehead and his body. One of the rods that held the tables was pierced through Sahiro’s thigh. His clothes were soaked in blood.

  “There,” Alyosha said with a grin. “Now there won’t be any interjections.”

  Then Alyosha felt something go through his head. A bullet. Normally, Alyosha would see the bullet coming from a mile away, but this time it caught him off guard. Alyosha grunted while touching his head and then saw his hand filled with blood.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, looking around him.

  Alyosha pulled the bullet out of his head like it was nothing. He continued walking towards Sahiro, ready to finish him. Then he heard gunfire again, and this time he dodged all three bullets coming towards him.

  “If you’re cops, you’re just wasting your bullets,” he said confidently.

  “Guess again, asshole,”

  A voice said in the distance. The final bullet in the chamber went straight into Alyosha’s chest, causing him to fall. Alyosha got up and saw it was Radford who fired the bullets. Alyosha pulled the bullet out of his chest and flung it away. As Alyosha tried to get up, Yankira ran towards him, backflipped over him, and tied a string around his neck while in the air. As Yankira landed, she held a tight grip on a string, hoping to choke Alyosha out.

  “You think this is going to stop me?” Alyosha said, not even choking on the string.

  “I was hoping for it,” Yankira said.

  Alyosha snapped the string, then grabbed Yankira by the head and threw her to the floor, like a basketball player checking the ball.

  “Anyone else care to try?” Alyosha said, looking around.

  He turned around and saw Cadoc running towards him as if he were a quarterback, but because of Cadoc’s height, Alyosha held Cadoc by his head, stopping him in place, and flung Cadoc like a pencil. Cadoc went flying across the hallway and fell on the ground, revealing a dent in the wall. Alyosha stood there without even breaking a sweat.

  “Now that the children are done with their talent show, where was I? Oh, yes.” Alyosha approached Sahiro’s unconscious body.

  Then Radford stood up from his cover and fired two bullets into the air.

  “You understand that isn’t a flare gun, right, Radford?” Alyosha said, chuckling.

  “Of course I know dipshit, I was just distracting you.”

  Alyosha’s eyes lit up, but before he realized, he felt two small objects pierce through his head. Blood was dripping out of his head, like paint on the wall. Alyosha tried to dig into himself to pull the bullets out like he used to, but he couldn’t. The bullets kept moving fast enough, so he couldn’t grab them. He felt the bullets tearing through his body in looping paths, until one reached his brain and the other reached his heart. Alyosha stopped moving, all of his motor functions stopped, and he fell forward like a half-bag standing up. Blood began coming out of his body and turned into a pool of blood around him. Radford left his cover and ran to check on Yankira and Cadoc.

  “Hey, are you guys all right?” Radford said as he reached for Yankira.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” Yankira said as she got up. “Slight headache, but better than what I was hoping.”

  “Yeah, I’m alive too,” Cadoc said, holding his arm while his nose was dripping blood.

  The group walked past Alyosha and went towards Sahiro, still mangled and knocking on death’s door. “Fuck, what are we gonna do with him?” Radford asked. “The boss is gonna kill us if she finds out.”

  “Fuck, you mean what do we do?” Cadoc interjected. “Look at him! He’s as good as dead; we might as well bury him and skip town.”

  “Don’t be a pussy, Cadoc,” Yankira interrupted. “He’s still alive, I can feel his pulse.” She held his wrist.

  “Okay, great, but where do we take him?” Cadoc asked.

  “We have to take him back to Walentrya,” Yankira responded.

  Cadoc and Radford’s faces turned pale.

  “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Cadoc exclaimed. “THAT’S THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH?”

  “Yeah, seriously? What about, oh, I don’t know? A FUCKING HOSPITAL.” Radford added on.

  “If we take him to a hospital, the boss is going to find out,” Yankira responded.

  “Jesus, does she have people on payroll everywhere?” Cadoc asked.

  “Unfortunately,” Yankira answered, “Hopefully Walentrya will only scream at us and not kill us.”

  The group tried to pick Sahiro up but stopped when Radford held his arm out and pointed at the rod through his thigh.

  “Hey, guys, we might have a problem,” Radford noted.

  “Fuck you mean we got a problem?” Cadoc asked, “Just pull it out.”

  “No, that’ll probably put more damage to the leg than there already is,” Yankira replied.

  Yankira’s eyes began to glow white; while holding her hand towards the rod, the rod that was stuck in Sahiro’s thigh came clean off like peeling a wrapper from a straw. It came off slowly, so it wouldn’t damage any veins, like a surgeon performing surgery. Once the rod was out, Radford and Cadoc picked up Sahiro and carried him, leaving the school. By this time, it became super windy, still cloudy as ever, but the winds picked up heavily. The group went towards Radford’s Buick Riviera, which his parents gave him for his sixteenth birthday. The group got in and had Sahiro in the back seat next to Cadoc.

  “I still think this is a bad idea, Yankira,” Radford said.

  “What choice do we have?” Yankira asked.

  “What do you expect her to do? Fix him up?” Cadoc asked as well.

  “She’s still at work, hopefully we can fix him up ourselves, and she won’t even realize,” Yankira replied

  Radford started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot of the school, heading towards the Macario apartment.