How could she not understand the drill after so many years of being mine? Patting her head gently, I licked the side of her cheek, still enjoying the taste of her essence on my tongue. “Soon, Bianca, we will rule the world.” She shivered, but couldn't get away, because her legs were chained to the cell and her hands were cuffed to me.
My grand plan slightly detoured with Don’s inability to be killed, but it was still in motion. The pakhan took Rosa with him, which meant he could easily be blamed for this shit, and the war would still be on. Going to Russia was out of the question, but they would come back to States in time for Damian Scott’s wedding.
The day of his wedding would be the day of my revenge against those who diminished me and claimed all the things that were always meant to belong to me.
And then, fucking then, no one would ever laugh at me again or think I was an unworthy piece of shit.
My stomach growled one more time, and nausea hit me hard. Having no food in your mouth in the last three days would do that to a person I imagined.
We usually had food ready in our regular dumpsters scattered around town, knowing which buildings had better drinks or bread or leftovers of meat and chicken. If we were lucky, we could even find some fruits or vegetables. Sure enough, they smelled like shit or had mold on them, but still it was possible to find delicious places to bite into. The food was enough to keep us going until four days ago, when some gang, which consisted of five young, muscled men, blocked the dumpsters and told us to not enter their territory. It belonged to their ‘beggars,’ whatever that meant.
Duncan and Marty scouted other neighborhoods, but they had no luck. Plus, the guys were too old to spend their days on the street, so the responsibility was placed on my shoulders, even if it wasn't said out loud.
They took me in when no one wanted me, so I had to repay their kindness.
The crowded Austin street right in the middle of the day was busy with people running around to work, or families enjoying outings together. Some walked their dogs or held burgers in their hands. The place was perfect for what I had in mind—stealing some wallets. I knew stealing was a bad thing, and Duncan and Marty didn't approve of it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The only time I ever did was to get some scarves, hats, or gloves for us.
But we simply couldn't survive one more day without at least a few slices of bread, and no matter how much I begged on the streets or stood near supermarkets, folks passed me by with an annoyed expression or fear. One of them even muttered, “Those shouldn't even be allowed here.” Her words stung, because what the fuck did she know about life on the streets? Sometimes life didn't give you a choice and you had to make the best of what you had.
Stupid, ignorant people.
So I lurked in the corner, studying everyone and searching for the best spot to grab a wallet.
A woman passed by. She held her baby as her bag swung from side to side, making it an easy target. Her baby cried, and she seemed tired, because no matter how many times she muttered, “Sssh,” the toddler wouldn't shut up. No, single mothers were out of the question.
An old man slowly walked with a cane, a twenty peeking from his back pocket, but again, my conscience wouldn't allow me to do it. Who the fuck knew how much money he had anyway? Maybe it was his last twenty.
A kid ran quickly with his backpack hanging low, but yeah, a no too.
Fuck, could someone suitable finally appear?
And then, for the first time in my fucked-up life, God granted my wish. An older man, maybe in his late forties, wearing a grey suit, slowly strolled down the street as he read a newspaper. Sunglasses hid his expression, but by the expensive gold watch on his wrist, it was clear as day he was loaded, and my little Robin Hood act wouldn't hurt his lifestyle. The brown wallet bulged in his right pocket, so my eyes zoomed in on the target, and as he passed me by, I dug my hand in, quickly took it out, and almost screamed in victory.
However, it didn't last long, as his strong arm grabbed mine and I came face to face with gray-as-steel eyes as the man removed his glasses and scanned my appearance. Out of nowhere, four muscled men with guns wearing identical black suits showed up behind him, and the corner of the street became impossibly small.
“Name.” Only one word, but his voice was stern, and I mentally prepared for the blow that would come. In my experience, such men weren't kind.
“Dominic,” I replied, swallowing hard.
“Where did you learn to do it so flawlessly, boy?”
Boy. Toy. Pet.
I struggled through his hold, as fear crept in at the idea this man would kidnap me and order me to service him. He didn't budge, his hold still strong on me, but something flashed through his eyes, and for a second, kindness shone through them. “Do you want to live, Dominic?” he asked, rubbing his chin while his men looked at me, confused.
Did I?
For so long, my only wish was death, but the two years on the streets… they gave me an opportunity to discover the world, and as stupid as it sounded, I still wished to breathe and walk.
To have the freedom of going wherever the hell I pleased, even if it meant being called ‘homeless.’
“Yes,” I replied, hesitation coloring my voice.
His mouth spread in a welcoming smile, as he said, “Then I have a proposition for you.”
That day, Vasya Konstantinov took me under his wing, essentially making the Bratva my family.
The day my life finally changed for the better.
