Page 29 of Pageant

I didn’t hear any Russian accents. None of their names are Russian. These women just want to go home to their families, whereas I’ve been living on borrowed time for two years. I knew it was going to end this way; perhaps not so elaborately, but death is death whether it’s in pursuit of a hateful, glittering crown or being hunted by a hitman in a dark alleyway.

“Number Eleven, I have to recoup my losses. One woman will win, you will be killed, and the rest will be sent back to Russia and sold.” He turns and speaks to the others. “Which is why you must all follow my rules. If we cut your faces, your price will be cheap. You will end up in a whorehouse gnawed by rats and used two dozen times a day. If you try your hardest, you may fare better. I’m not an unreasonable man. You may get a husband out of this.”

On my left, Imani almost starts to sob, and Konstantin notices her stifled tears.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. We won’t be monstrous unless you are bad girls.” He spreads his hands and smiles. “Haven’t I been nice to you so far? All models want rich husbands to take care of them, and I know many rich men back in Russia.”

My teeth grind together but I swallow down my retort. A rich husband sounds great until he’s beating his defective property while she lays in a hospital bed. But as I peer to my left and to my right, I wonder how many women here are being won over by what Konstantin is offering.

“As for me, I want a woman I can treat like a queen,” Konstantin tells us. “She’ll want for nothing. She’ll know only power and riches by my side.”

Several heads lift with interest. Konstantin can probably provide what he’s offering, but the cost will be dearer than they can imagine. The life of a Bratva bride is full of danger and soaked with blood. All the jewels he gives you won’t make up for being treated like a vessel and a whore.

He turns the crown in his hands, and all eyes are drawn to it. Even mine. The glittering object seems to emit an alluring force. A prize fit for an underworld queen.

“The only way out of this to safety and happiness is to earn this crown.” Konstantin smiles his cold smile, and gazes from one of us to the next. “May the best woman win.”

It’s a trick!I want to shout.Don’t believe a word he says. The only winner will be him.

We all need to unite against these men. Together, we’re smarter than the three of them. Men can be fooled. We have no choice but to play thisPakhan’ssadistic game, but we must play to survive, not to win.

“You have twenty minutes,” Konstantin announces, turning toward the door. “Anyone who is late will be punished.”

After Konstantin, Elyah, and Kirill leave us, silence reigns. The armed men unlock a door at the side of the room and stare at us. We stare back at them and then at each other, wondering why we haven’t been forced back into our cages.

“I think we’re supposed to…get ready?” one of the women says, pointing at a rack of clothes against the wall. Then she shoots a fearful look at the guards, wondering if she’s about to be beaten for speaking. The men stay where they are, faces impassive.

“Ready? What for?” Imani asks in horror.

Olivia walks over to the rack and begins sorting through the garments. “They’re all swimsuits. And there are numbered sashes as well. Are we going swimming or something?”

When I was in high school, one of my friend’s sisters was a beauty pageant hopeful, and we watched her on television as she competed for the Miss America title. She was cut during the first round when they all modeled swimsuits.

“Don’t be dumb. It’s a pageant, remember?” another woman says, striding forward and grabbing a red bikini and holding it up in front of herself. “These are for the first round of the competition.”

She disappears through the unlocked door, and I see there’s a dark sort of bathroom beyond. Some women head inside, and some go for the swimsuits and sashes. Others stay where they are, too frightened to move. One woman has a terrified expression on her face and stares straight ahead, hands clenched.

Olivia turns and looks over her shoulder at me. “Come on. You don’t want to be left with the crummiest bikini.”

I shake my head and stay where I am. Better that I wear the worst clothing when I’m going to die anyway.

Olivia peruses the rack, then comes over to me holding a green and gold bikini and whispers, “The longer you stay alive, the better chance you have of escaping.”

I smile at her in relief. She understands what we have to do, and it gives me hope that the others do, too. “Don’t worry about me. You go and get ready.”

Olivia hesitates. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everyone here is terrified. I’ve been here two days and Imani is the only one I’ve been able to talk to. You were here two minutes and you got everyone saying their names. We need you.”

“What we need is some way to escape,” I counter.

“We’ll find it, but don’t die in the meantime.”

“I don’t plan on dying faster than I have to.”

Olivia still seems worried, but she takes her bikini and disappears into the bathroom.

I glance around and see that there’s one other woman who hasn’t approached the rack, and I walk over to her. “I know we did introductions last night, but now we can put faces to names. I’m Lilia. What’s your name?”

“Alejandra.”

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