PROLOGUE
Sasha
Click.Click. Click. Click.
I finally turned off the light, preferring the darkness. Even the goddamn moon coming in through the blinds was too fucking bright. Hissing, I shielded my eyes. The luminous shimmer creeping through my closed fingers was still annoying.
“Goddamn it.” When I struggled to stand, I stumbled forward, hitting the edge of the table. Down I went. A laugh bubbled to the surface. At least I hadn’t spilled a single drop of booze in my fall.
Maybe I wasn’t so fucked up after all.
Almost instantly, another wave of sorrow settled in and I crawled back to where I’d been sitting. Where I’d been hiding from the rest of the world. The floor was nice and cool. I threw one arm around my bended knees, taking another swig. The burn from the vodka felt good against my throat. How much had I consumed?
Too much, but who gave a shit. Not me.
Leaning my head against the wall, I took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. There were spots in colors. Wow. Look at that shit.
Another swig.
Another sigh.
Then utter gut-wrenching sadness. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I held up the bottle, ready to pitch it across the room. I’d never been this angry or this volatile. Or this…
Tears streamed down my face and I smacked my head against the wall. Why hadn’t it been me? Why? Why? Goddamn it. Why?
Every muscle aching from exhaustion and agony, I rubbed my arm across my eyes, feeling a stream of liquid from the bottle. What the hell did I care at this point? I could get more. Any damn time I wanted. There was nothing wrong with me. Fuck, I was Sasha Dmitriyev. Proud member of a Bratva regime. I could handle any goddamn thing that fucking came my way.
Emotions were not my friend. They never had been. They were a weakness that the nephew of a powerful Pakhan couldn’t afford. Yet here I was sobbing like a baby.
“Everything will be okay, son.”
I heard my mother’s voice clearly inside my head, the soft whisper like the brush of kisses she used to give me as a young boy.
“I’m trying, Mama. I just can’t.”
My words were barely audible, strangled by my sadness and rage. I threw my fist in the air, staring at the ceiling as if some divine intervention would provide me with answers. Maybe the strength to carry on.
“We’ll get the son of a bitch if it’s the last thing we do.”Mikhail’s voice shoved aside my mother’s. His tone was full of defiance and the same anger I’d experienced for months. Months of searching. Months of turning over rocks findingnothing but cockroaches. Months of enduring sheer agony to the point I just couldn’t take it any longer. He’d be Pakhan soon. Leader of a powerful family, perhaps the most powerful in the United States. He needed to display confidence when the monster was still roaming the streets, laughing from destroying something so pure and innocent.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, cuz. I know you’ve tried.” We all had. Every member of the family, but no one was talking. Talking to ghosts or figures who were just aspects of my tortured imagination weren’t helping anything.
Outside the family, no one even cared any longer. Another statistic. Another violent crime.
Another story to put to rest.
“Fuck. Fuck!” The goddamn stream of moonlight captured something on the table. I’d forgotten I’d even put it there. What, for protection? I laughed again. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe it was best if I didn’t need to worry my family any longer. Maybe…
I tossed the bottle aside, not caring if it had fallen on its side, and crawled toward the table. Every muscle ached as much as my heart. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the cold, hard steel, I felt stronger.
More like myself.
More like the ruthless man I’d been.
Pulling the weapon into the stream of light, I took several deep breaths. This was the best choice for everyone. Everyone. Steadying my hand, I shoved the barrel into my mouth. It could all be so easy. Then I would find peace. Who knows. Maybe happiness.
Only she was in heaven and I’d go straight to hell, no get out of jail free card for me.
The pain excruciating, I closed my eyes, trying not to allow the memories to influence me.
