The door slammed shut. The sound ricocheted through me, a loud reminder that I was leaving behind my family and the love of my life.
Rome had knelt before me, begging me not to leave. How could I not, though?
Freedom comes at a price. Breaking away from the shelter of your chains means you risk your life to see your true potential.
I’d been comfortable, stagnant, bound to the life the family had built for me. I’d allowed it. I’d actually respected and even defended it.
But it only took one trigger for the emotions to surface, and I’d been suppressing them for too long. I walked out into the darkness of the night and felt the wind whisper through my hair, the night sky blanket my skin, and the sound of the city swirl around me. I felt the world, and for once it felt like it had opened itself up to me, that every possibility was available to me, that I, alone, was good enough to carve out whatever piece of it I wanted because I, alone, deserved it.
Freedom, though, comes at a price.
I stood on the edge of the sidewalk as the dark SUV rolled down the street. The rubber of the tires crunched over the pavement. No man stood by my side, and no one would protect me if Dimitri, the man who was said to be my uncle, rolled down the window to take my life right at that instant.
As the vehicle came to a stop and idled there, my heart raced. Adrenaline pumped through my veins enough to make my hands shake against the duffel bag I clung to my shoulder.
A large man got out of the driver’s side and rounded the back. He opened the door, waving me in. “Hurry up.”
Without hesitation, I left behind the comfort of the Armanelli family for the unknown. I’d find a way to prove to everyone that I was worthy of standing on my own, that I deserved a place in power just as much as any of them.
I folded into the SUV and came face-to-face with Dimitri, the heir to the Russian bratva. The seats wrapped around the back of the vehicle, allowing him to face me with his glacial blue stare. He waited for me to take him in: his white collared shirt, his black slacks and shined shoes, with little else to accessorize. It reminded me that he was cutthroat, straight to the point with no flair.
Two men sat on either side of him. One of their suit jackets folded over awkwardly, showing me just where he was carrying a gun. Neither of them smirked or offered any expression.
I knew the bratva for their low profile. No jewelry was worn, they barely had tattoos, and they didn’t flaunt what they had. The Russian bratva had only just started to spread since Dimitri stepped into power. Sure, the family was disorganized, but they were ruthless and smart enough to work their way to the top with the resources they had.
The family was worth billions just like the Armanellis, and only the bloodline had access to it.
I’d heard the stories of Dimitri’s father, how he’d killed children, how he’d tortured them in front of their parents just to get his way. He’d embedded his bratva within the government by breeding fear in its officials, by doing away with morals. Lines were made to be crossed, and he’d done it without hesitation.
Then, supposedly, his memory failed him. Now, he lived in a nice little suburb outside of the city.
“Introductions are in order, Katalina.” Dimitri leaned back and straightened a cuff of his sleeve, giving me a moment to respond.
“You seem to already know my name.” I sat back too, studying him.
His jawline cut like mine, and the slope of his nose was the same, but his eyes were too blue, his stare too vicious and cold as he sat there without responding.
Dimitri and I weren’t related, not in the way I wanted to be, anyway. Blood was becoming less and less important to me. “We can skip the bullshit. You wanted me; you got me. What are you going to do with me?”
“Maybe I should keep it a surprise, yeah?” He smiled like a snake would at a mouse, his thick Russian accent heavy on his tongue. The frigidity of his eyes, how they pierced deep down into my being, showed me just how well this man could play games.
“Our lineage stems from the Romanovs, I’ve heard.”
“What of our lineage? You won’t have that blood in you for long.”
“Ah, but can’t a Romanov defeat the odds?”
“Or they’re destined to be executed. You tell me.” One of his fingers tapped his pants, slowly, to an imaginary rhythm.
“What do you want me here for? I’m not going to beg to know. If you planned to kidnap and kill me, you’ll have an embarrassingly easy job, but I’m guessing a drive-by would have sufficed for that. So from the looks of it, we’re going to see your father.”
“And your grandfather,” Dimitri said, lifting an eyebrow and gauging my reaction. When I didn’t flinch at his words, he slid from his seat to come sit right up against me. His breath was hot on my shoulder, and he breathed in my scent against my ear. “Pity we’re related.”
His muscle shifted in their seats; one frowned while the other smirked like he might get a show. Neither of them knew their leader well enough to guess his next move, which meant either Dimitri was that unstable or they were green.
“Both your boys here coming to visit Granddad too?” I asked, not looking Dimitri’s way. If he caught fear, he’d feed off it, and I didn’t need him mistaking my disgust for that.
“Why? You want them to? You like something you see in one of them more than me?” His hand went to my jaw and yanked my face toward him.
We glared at one another, his eyes bouncing back and forth over mine.
“When I speak to you, your attention is on me. Don’t make me teach you manners, little niece.” His hand clamped down on my thigh and inched upward over my jeans. His thumb dipped into a hole in them, and my skin crawled.
“Dimitri, your father wouldn’t be happy.” The frowning muscle was trying to defuse the situation. He probably got queasy about incest.
My mind raced away, though, finding my safe space in case they decided to torture me. I scrambled to find the jar that had held all of my emotions for so long, but maybe I’d truly smashed it when I stabbed Georgie.
The frustration in me crackled like a fire just waiting to catch onto the dry forest ahead of it. I couldn’t bottle it if I tried. All of a sudden, I was free, and I wasn’t going back to whatever they wanted me to become. I wouldn’t become anything for anybody ever again.
Taunting a woman who had nothing to lose except the freedom she’d just gained wasn’t wise. “Do you know Georgie’s dead?”
His hand stopped moving in the hole of my jeans. He yanked it away to grab his phone and, at the same time, flung Russian at the two across from us. They jumped to get their phones, everybody moving fast for information.
“What is it you’re hiding from everyone? We know you traffic, we know the government is involved, we know that—”
Dimitri slapped me across the face hard enough to make my ears ring. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Father wouldn’t argue with me on that one. You’re out of line.”
“Whose line?” I whispered, not sure if my question would earn me another smack. When it did, I found the weakness in the car. The muscular man that was frowning flinched like beating a woman wasn’t in the cards for him. He wouldn’t make it long in this family, and so I wouldn’t feel bad about swaying him to become an ally of mine. Identifying connections came at a price tonight. Enduring pain meant I’d get to the end of this charade though.
It was the most justified pain I’d felt in a long time.
Dimitri fisted his hand. “Father thinks blood is blood. You are going to prove to him right or wrong when we get there. Set him straight so his mind can rest.”
“He has dementia. A mind like that never rests,” I corrected him. It came automatically because Parkinson’s had taken my father and I wouldn’t have anyone, not even the devil, walking around with false hopes about a terminal disease like that.
“His mind is worse because he knows you’re running around with the Armanellis. He focuses on it all day and night. His lucidity is dominated by it. So we solve the problem by dragging you in.”
“So, you’re just the son who cares?”
“I’m the son who runs this bratva, niece. Once father sees you’re nothing more than a mutt, I’ll kill you.”
“No bargain?” I wondered if he would negotiate my life with me.
“After you giving up Georgie’s phone? You betrayed us–”
“I didn’t know I was a part of the bratva when I shared that information.” It wasn’t well hidden evidence anyway.
“It doesn’t matter.” He waved off my reasoning. “I’ll end the nonsense, and it’ll be the start of the end for the Armanelli Family. Have they known all along? Were you the only one in the dark?”
I didn’t answer him, just sat there breathing in the stench of Russian blood. The air within that SUV was so unbalanced, I could barely take a breath. My uncle was a man without a moral code, and I was about to test him in every way.
One of us would be spilling our family blood by the end of this.
I knew damn well it wasn’t going to be mine. I’d just gained my freedom, and I wasn’t about to hand it to a man who didn’t deserve it.
