Maria
“Yeah. Who is this?” Mercy’s no-shit, tough-girl accent instantly reassures me. She sounds like she’s been up for hours, and I can hear bar sounds in the background-glass clinking, people talking, and sports announcer giving a play-by-play.
My voice trembles slightly. “Mercy? I need to talk to you.”
Her voice is instantly loaded with worry. “Maria? My God, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Her words are rapid-fire. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you still with Ivanov? Talk to me!”
“I’m safe.” My voice is firm. “And you can help by answering some questions.”
“Okay, give me a sec.” Wherever Mercy is, she moves to a quieter room, and I hear a door slam in the background. “All right, what do you want to know?”
I pause, gathering my nerves into words. “Did you know about my dad, Mercy? The truth.”
“I don’t know everything.” She sighs dramatically and then speaks. “But I do know that Michael Rostova is not as dull as he pretends to be.”
I don’t speak Dad’s real name. I don’t want to hear it anymore. “How much do you know?”
Her tone softens. “I thought Rostova was a low-level player or maybe a caporegime like my dad. But that’s about it. But it sounds like he isn’t, is he?”
“No,” I reply. “He was the Avtoritet.”
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds important.”
It takes a moment before Mercy speaks. But when she does, her words slam into the phone. “Fuck the Bratva. Scumbags. All of them.”
I take a deep breath and say nothing. I want to scream at Mercy and ask her why she didn’t tell me anything before, but I know it won’t help now. Mercy is loyal to her father, Vito, and she always has been.
But I know she cares about me too, and I need her. I need her loyalty, not her pity.
Mercy breaks the silence. “He should’ve come clean to you a long fucking time ago.”
“Yeah, join the club,” I whisper as I get up to pace the floor.
Mercy hesitates, and that’s not like her. Whatever she’s about to say, it must be bad.
“Look, I don’t know what those people told you,” she continues. “But don’t trust them. They’re killers and thieves and worse.” She pauses. “And the Ivanov are pieces of shit who use people before discarding them like trash.”
The anger in her voice startles me, and I realize just how much Mercy despises the Ivanov Bratva. A realization rushes into me; something I had thought about seems clearer now.
“You didn’t tell Dad I was in trouble, did you?” I ask.
“Me? No. Butmydad sure as shit did. Then he told me to not get involved.” She sighs. “To do nothing.”
“So, you didn’t say anything to my dad?” I ask again.
“I couldn’t-not directly,” she replies. “Maria, I was driven to some mansion in Jersey and told not to do anything. I took a fucking risk trying to slip you that phone.” Mercy takes a deep breath. “By the way, how did you get a phone?”
“Larissa Ivanov. I’m staying with her, and she’s okay.”
“The fuck she is!” Mercy scoffs. “Maria, she could be listening in on you as we speak!”
“I doubt that very much.” I raise my voice to silence her. “I’m the last one to find out.” I lower my voice again. “Mercy, I have to tell you something, but you have to swear not to tell my dad. Or your dad. Or anyone.”
“I won’t. I swear. I won’t, Maria.” She sighs. “I know when to keep my mouth shut.”
I shake my head. “A little too well.”
“Don’t make me the bad guy here, Maria!” Mercy instantly shoots back. “It was your father’s responsibility to tell you and he didn’t. You hear? He. Fucking. Didn’t. That’s why I stopped coming around Holtsville. Anyway.” Mercy sighs. Our whole conversation is weighing us down. “What were you going to tell me?” she asks.
I hear a knock on my door and freeze in place, fearing the worst. I hold my trembling knee down with my hand. “Who is it?” I call out, and my voice cracks slightly.
“It’s Lara.”
“Shut up,” I whisper to Mercy. “I’ll be back.”
I hide the phone under the covers and then open the door. Larissa’s face appears lit by the ambient light in the hallway. Her eyes are soft with concern but a little frightened. It’s an unusual sight for someone who usually gives off unfaltering confidence.
“Maria, I thought I heard you moving around,” she speaks gently, stepping inside my room. “Are you okay?” She pauses, taking in my appearance, and frowns. “Did you sleep at all?”
I shrug and look away, not meeting her gaze. “Not really,” I admit. “I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that’s happened.”
Larissa sits beside me on the bed, dangerously close to the phone, and places her arm around my shoulders. “I know it’s difficult, but you need to rest. Did you have a chance to speak with your father?”
I nod, trying to keep myself together, but it’s useless. My lips tremble and it takes every ounce of will not to start crying again. I hate crying. It makes me feel so useless.
Larissa pulls me into her arms, cradling my head against her chest. “Shh, dear,” she whispers softly, rocking me gently. “It’ll be okay. I promise. Maria, I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and your baby.”
I tell myself to stop, but I can’t. The weight of the lies, the danger, and the truth is too much. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I sit silently on the edge of the bed, my mind racing between conflicting thoughts.
A knot clenches in the pit of my stomach as I feel the phone slip off the bed and onto the floor.
It lands with a thud on the carpet, and the screen is like a beacon in the dark, impossible not to see. I stare at it as Mercy shouts my name.
“Maria! Are you there?”