Something in my chest suddenly shrinks, tightening into a ball of pain and grief, and I struggle to breathe. I have to do it, I have to, I’ll never get another chance! But my fingers start to shake. I’ve killed dozens of people in my life, but when I look down at the man I’ve been chasing for years, my throat tightens.
God, Sasha, get yourself together. Just fucking do it!
But a sudden flash of car lights on the road blinds me-and the next moment, Louis barrels into my stomach and tries to knock me over. Son of a bitch! I instinctively open fire, but he catches my wrist and directs my gun at the bushes on the other side of the road. The sound of a firefight seems to scare the driver who chose the worst time to take this route, and he frantically drives away.
Even with the dots of light still dancing in my vision, I blindly kick Louis in his chest, and he groans through gritted teeth and grips my wrist tighter, fighting for the gun. Shit. He’s stronger than me, and if I don’t do something, it won’t be long till he forces me onto the ground. I open fire again, hoping to throw him off, but after two bullets it goes quiet.
Goddamnit. I didn’t care to check the magazine before going after Louis, so it must be empty. Shit. Shit! I immediately let go of the gun and, using Louis’s momentary confusion, I kick him between his legs and push him away. If I can’t finish my task, I have to keep my identity secret, so I take off in the direction of my car.
My heart is pounding in my ears, my body is brimming with adrenaline, and I ignore the growing pain in my abdomen. Damn, Louis didn’t hold back when he jumped at me. I reach the bridge in what feels like moments when, all of a sudden, something heavy hits my shoulder. What the hell?
I don’t stop to figure it out, but the next hit comes right in the middle of my back, and shit, it hurts! The impact makes me stumble in my run, and only when I drop down with my hands holding me against the ground do I realize what happened. That goddamn bastard threw gravel at me!
I grit my teeth and push myself up, making another attempt at darting forward-but of course, it’s too late. Without even coming to a stop, Louis grips the back of my neck and, using the momentum, pushes me to the bridge pillar, taking control of my elbow.
“Now, we can talk.” His voice is hoarse and full of anger, and I swallow and try to get my hand out of his grip. Damn it. So much for savoring the moment.
Louis pushes me against the pillar with my hands behind my back and my cheek pressed against the cold, vibrating surface. It’s completely dark here under the bridge, and only the stream of car lights running on the edges of its shadow illuminates it. I stare at it blankly while my mind spins in frantic circles. Shit, shit, shit. What am I supposed to do now?
“Who are you and what do you want from me?” Louis raises his voice over the hum, squeezing my neck hard enough to bruise, but I keep my mouth shut. I can’t tell him, not now. “Alright, well, if you want to play mute…”
He doesn’t finish and yanks the hood off my head, revealing the heap of freshly dyed red hair. I’m not stupid enough to spy on him with my natural blonde hair, okay? Anyone in the Mafia world would recognize me from afar, and that’s the last thing I need.
But Louis doesn’t stop there. He reaches for my mask, and this time I shake my head and try to weave out of his grip with more effort. No, I can’t let him see my face! I hum in protest, still keeping my lips sealed, but Louis catches my chin and forces me to turn my head to the side before pulling the mask down.
Well, shit… but maybe it’s for the best.
“Alex?”
His eyes widen as soon as our eyes meet-and it’s the perfect time to catch him off guard. I gather all my strength and kick his knee. This time Louis doesn’t escape it, and while he groans and doubles over in pain, I use my whole body to shove him away from me and bolt into the darkness.
I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but Louis doesn’t even try to follow me this time.
My body is at its limit by the time I reach my car hidden in the shadow of the bushes, and I slump into the driver’s seat to catch my breath. But as a member of a Mafia family, I’m used to worse, so it takes me just a few seconds to come back to my senses before I drive out of my hiding place and away from the failure of my assault.
God, I can’t believe I messed up so badly! I’d been planning it for weeks, and what now? Now, I have to figure out how to keep it a secret from everyone else.
I curse under my breath and hit the steering wheel in a rush of frustration, accidentally honking and making the car in front of me change lanes to let me pass. Well, thanks for that. I check the rearview mirror once again, but Louis’s car is nowhere to be seen, so I pick up speed and take the road that leads me home-directly into the heart of the Bratva’s territory.
I pass the border without trouble, even waving a hand at one of our patrols. Damn it. I hope they aren’t gonna mention me in their reports. The last thing I need is for Uncle Yuriy or, worse even, Father to get suspicious. Neither of them is particularly forgiving when it comes to breaking the rules.
When I linger in front of the gates to Father’s mansion, I see the windows of his cabinet lit up from the inside. Ah, come on. It’s Saturday, he’s supposed to be dining at his favorite Polish restaurant! Why the hell is he here?
I clench my jaw and walk to the front door. At this point, there’s nothing I can do except be quiet and hope that Father hasn’t noticed my absence.
“Alexandra.”
Shit. I freeze at the base of the stairs as soon as I hear his voice from the living room. I’m almost thirty years old, but I feel like a teenager sneaking into her room after a party. Only I’m not gonna get a long lecture about the importance of obedience. My father’s methods have always been more straightforward.
I obediently turn around and see him at the doorstep of the living room, pulling on his cigarette and looking at me with a cold squint. He’s wearing a loose shirt and home pants that make him look even bigger than he already is, so I guess he decided to skip the restaurant today.
Does that mean he knows that I’ve been away for hours? I swallow and hide my nerves under the mask of obedience, crossing my hand behind my back. “Yes, sir.”
“Come here.”
I glance at him, and my body tenses up instinctively, my heart picks up its pace. But it’s better to play a good girl now, so I walk to Father-and he slaps me as soon as I get close enough. The impact makes my head snap to the side, but I bite back the noise of pain, grip my hands tighter, and turn back to him.
“What have you done with your hair?” Father grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side, making me grit my teeth to stop myself from hissing. “You look like a whore now.”
“It’s to hide from the Mexicans,” I lie without a blink of an eye, keeping my gaze down. “I was spying on them, but I didn’t want them to recognize me. It will go back to blonde soon, I-”
He tightens his grip, and I swallow the rest of the sentence with a hiss. “Have you got permission to do this?”
“No, sir.”
This time, I expect him to tug at my hair again, so I keep my lips sealed and my expression-indifferent. I know how to handle Father’s temper, so I remain quiet and obedient, and eventually, he lets go of my hair only to grab my chin instead. The stink of cigarette smoke fills my nose, and I barely keep myself from wincing in disgust.
Father forces me to look up at him, and I feel a wave of hatred as I meet the look of his pig eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Alexandra, or you’ll have to pay for your disobedience. Do you understand?” As if your damn word means anything to me.
But I know better than to speak against Father, so I hold his gaze with a neutral expression and nod. “Yes, sir.”
It seems to be good enough, and Father smirks with satisfaction and pats my cheek before blowing a cloud of smoke into my face. “You know how to be a good daughter, Sasha.”
I hold my breath while he turns around and walks back into the living room, probably to watch one of those stupid Russian TV shows he’s obsessed with. A damn boar. I watch him for a moment, clenching my fists despite myself. God, I can’t wait to find him dead from a heart attack someday-and with his lifestyle, I don’t think I have to wait a long time.
Sometimes, I even feel ready to kill him myself-but I never find enough guts in me to take it seriously. Perhaps I pity him, even though he can hardly be called a human. But I also know that if something happens to him, I won’t be the only one to bear the consequences, and that’s the only reason I let him treat me like this.
“Hey, teddy bear.” I quietly knock on the door of Misha’s room, listening to the silence behind it. “It’s Mom.”
As soon as I say it, I hear hurried steps and the click of the lock before the door swings open-and I find myself in the tightest embrace of my son. “You’re back! Where have you…”
Misha’s voice trails off as soon as he looks up at me, and I see his gray eyes darken as his gaze darts over my face. The corner of his lips turns down, and I feel bad for going to him instead of checking how I look first. I don’t like making him worried. My boy has been through too much to give him another rush of anxiety without a reason.
“Have you seen Grandpa?” Misha asks quietly, taking a hold of my hand, and I smile and lay a hand on his cheek, trying to look cheerful.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt at all.” I squeeze his little hand in mine and glance at his room. “Do you want to show me your homework?”
Misha nods and tugs me inside, but I see a frown on his face that makes my heart heavy. Of course he doesn’t believe me. He knows better than anyone that Grandpa’s slaps always hurt.