Maria
The ringtone makes me jump in the still safe house.
As the call connects, I focus on Mikhail and try to draw strength from him. But my hands tremble, and I can’t help but feel guilt gnawing at me.
“Put it on FaceTime.” Alexander’s voice is devoid of emotion.
Mikhail swipes his finger across the screen. His expression is focused, and his jaw is set as he mentally prepares for whatever he will see. Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line, indicating the image is worse than I had anticipated.
“Maria,” Dad says quietly, “be ready for anything.”
My pulse quickens, and blood pounds in my ears as I brace myself for whatever may be on the screen. I know it will be Mercy. Holding myself tight, I have to look and face it head-on. I had many chances to insist that Mikhail let her go. I could have spoken up and insisted Mikhail bring Mercy with us to the bar.
My daughter would’ve also been safe under my protection. You should know that, my niece.
But my only concern was me, and I foolishly believed Mercy would be safe in the penthouse. Was I ever safe? Mikhail assured me I was protected, but that was so different. Mercy was my responsibility, and this is my burden to bear. It’s as much my fault as if I had shoved Mercy into the van.
“Maria,” Mikhail whispers before Alexander’s face appears on the screen. “We’ll get her back.” His words are meant to reassure me, but now I know this is going to be worse than I imagined.
An image jumps on the screen, and a gasp comes out of my open mouth before I can stop it. It’s not Alexander. The phone is on Mercy, who is bruised, battered, and bound to a chair. The gray cell is poorly lit, but I can see enough. The top of her swimsuit is missing, and she tries to cover herself with one hand while the other is bound to the chair. Bruises cover too much of her skin. A gag in her mouth muffles weak sobs of protest. Her pretty face is marred by the evidence of Alexander’s brutality. She stares at the phone and then Alexander before she lowers her head and looks away. Her eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying.
I’ve never seen Mercy cry before, and that upsets me the most.
What have I done? I swallow hard. It’s too late for me to show remorse, and it won’t help Mercy. I have to toughen up and be the strong one if she’s going to survive this hell.
“Like what you see?” Alexander taunts as he grabs Mercy’s chin and makes her look at the phone.
“This isn’t about her, Alexander,” Mikhail speaks calmly. “Besides, the Lanzzare know who is responsible. I didn’t give you an order to do this.”
Alexander lets Mercy’s chin go, and she folds in on herself with a whimper.
“You should have,” he snarls. “The opportunity was there, but you stopped thinking with your head after you had your dick sucked.” A nasty grin curls on his lips. “So you’ve finally joined the other side, Kolya. You’ve bedded one, and now you are one.”
I look down at my hands, hoping my father won’t react, and when I glance at him, his attention is on the phone. I hate myself for being a coward who has gotten everyone I love and care about into this hellish mess so I can have what I want.
“Let her go,” Mikhail hisses. “And maybe I’ll deal with you instead of tossing you to the Lanzzare.”
Alexander shakes his head as he stares at the phone. “I’ve found someone willing to pay handsomely to own a Lanzzare. He has his own fantasies of revenge. Don’t worry, he won’t kill her. She’ll be treated well as long as she learns to obey.”
I can’t take anymore and snatch the phone out of Mikhail’s hand. “You’re the traitor, not my father!” I scream. “You’re the one who should be hunted down, and you will be if you hurt my cousin.”
Zakhar grabs me and the phone. His look warns me to keep quiet, but I may have already said too much.
Alexander peers into the phone. “I do miss family reunions,” he laughs coldly. “Zakhar, do you really think you can convince the Bratva you’re innocent when you’ve been hiding like a coward? Only a guilty man runs.”
“Then why don’t you tell me where you’re hiding, youmudak?” Zakhar scoffs when Alexander doesn’t reply. “Your actions aren’t those of a sane man. You’ll have more to deal with when I find you than threatening women.”
“She reminds me of someone else,” replies Alexander. “It must be the red hair. Do you see the resemblance?”
“You sick fuck!” shouts Zakhar. “I will tear you to pieces with my teeth when I find you. And I will find you.” Zakhar calms his voice. “The girl doesn’t deserve this.”
“Deserve?” Alexander scoffs. “This isn’t about what anyone deserves, my old friend. It’s about power. Control. Money.” His expression is heartless as he narrows his eyes. “It always has been.”
They’re not arguing over Mercy; they’re arguing about the past.
“Enough.” Mikhail takes the phone back. “Alexander, we’ll find out who your buyer is, and we’ll end it. You won’t be able to get away with this. Not with two families hunting you down.”
“Is that a threat?” Alexander sneers.
“I don’t make threats,” Mikhail replies coldly. “I keep promises.”
The screen jumps slightly as Alexander adjusts the phone on a stand. He sits down in a comfortable chair in what looks to be another room. His current surroundings have a deceptively cozy atmosphere, with a roaring fireplace and wooden bookshelves lining the walls. He reaches for a speaker and flicks it, and Mercy’s whimpers become audible in the background. He smiles, knowing that we can also hear it.
“Maybe it will take decades for you to find me.” Alexander relaxes in a plush armchair. “But it won’t help her.”
The call ends abruptly, and I can barely breathe. Like a knife, guilt twists in my gut as I think of how my selfish actions have led us here. As much as I want to wallow in self-pity and regret, we can’t waste time Mercy doesn’t have. But I can’t shake theimage of her bruised face and tear-filled eyes staring at me through the screen. That image will always haunt my memory, but there’s no time for regret-only action.
“Do you have it?” Zakhar asks Mikhail.
“Yes.” He holds up the phone with a screenshot of Mercy.
“You recorded it?” My eyes widen in shock. “You shouldn’t have done that.” I try to grab the phone, but my father stops me.
“Vito must see and hear what Alexander has done,” Zakhar explains. “Alexander has confessed to acting alone, not under Mikhail’s orders. It proves that it wasn’t Mikhail’s plan all along. That video will keep the Lanzzare from taking this out on the Ivanov.”
The room feels colder, as if the darkness outside has seeped into every corner. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that runs down my spine.
“Maria,” Mikhail murmurs, stepping closer and touching my shoulder. “I promise we’ll find her before it’s too late.”
“I should do something,” I reply. “You saw Mercy. She was crying, Mikhail. I’ve never seen her cry before.” My voice breaks, and I feel the hot sting of tears well up in my throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak.
“Maria, listen to me.” Mikhail’s voice is firm, commanding my total attention. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what Alexander would do.”
My father steps forward, placing his hand on my other shoulder. “You are not to blame for any of this. None of this is your fault, and we’re going to make him pay for it.” The tension in the roomeases off us a little, as if his words were meant to soothe each of us.
“You should rest.” Mikhail’s gaze flutters down and up again quickly. And I take the hint. He pulls a cot away from the wall and unfolds it.
“Thank you.” I lie down, more to appease him than anything else. Deep down, I know they’re right. I wipe away my tears, thankful I kept them back until the call was over. I stumbled into their world, but no amount of logic or reason can erase this heavy feeling of guilt.
Tossing and turning, seeking the best position, I try to get comfortable on the cot while listening to Mikhail and Dad discuss their plans. This isn’t the best-case scenario, but they have a common purpose. And it’s keeping them from going at each other’s throats. My heart clenches every time Mercy’s name is mentioned. I desperately want to do something to help her, but I know that all I can do is pray and hope.
“Let’s focus on finding out who this buyer is,” Zakhar suggests. “We’ll send a list of possibilities to share with the Lanzzare. Have you contacted Vito?”
“Yes, and I’m sure he will be calling back soon,” Mikhail replies. “You probably know more about his contacts than I do.”
Zakhar nods. “If we spread the word about what Alexander has done, we may get information on his whereabouts.” He sighs. “My intel is old, but it’s not a line of work people switch companies in.”
There’s slight laughter, and I close my eyes until the phone rings again.
I open my eyes and watch Mikhail at the table with my father. I can’t make out the words, but his expression darkens as he listens. Mikhail ends the call and stands staring toward the window blinds.
Something is coming.