The loud cry of a boy who lost all hope, and nothing could have stopped me in that moment.
Rosa
Choking on my own blood, I held my stomach where the knife still pierced me, and tried to breathe through the pain, which proved to be an almost impossible task.
Laugher echoed in the house as black leather boots stopped a few inches away from my face. I lay on my side as droplets of red quickly transformed the old dingy white carpet to crimson. My exhausted body needed rest, but it was a luxury I couldn't afford.
After kneeling beside me, Ciara grabbed my hair painfully, making me cry out as she raised me half off the floor. “See what happens to perfect little girls who don't know how to behave? They get punished.” The slap to my cheek was harsh, leaving my skin burning while my head plummeted to the floor with a loud thud. Piercing pain exploded through my skull, the hard floor cracking something inside me. Dizziness overtook me, and everything suddenly looked blurry, as my lids felt too heavy to keep open.
The darkness called to me, and I almost smiled, welcoming the relief that would come with it.
Anticipating it even.
But I couldn't help but wonder what kept me alive for so long.
What knowledge had I forgotten?
And then I heard it.
The loud cry upstairs, a cry that made it impossible for me to succumb to the darkness.
Because I had to savehim.
Jake, Radmir’s son.
Using the last bit of strength my body possessed, I placed my palms on the floor and rose enough to roll to the wall, and then rested my back against it while blood trailed after me like a curse that wouldn't go away. Agonizing pain from my ribs and leg threatened to finally undo me, but I had to get the little boy the hell out of here.
“Why won’t he stop crying?” Ciara asked, running her fingers through her hair, sadness washing over her for a second and then changing to indifference. “Let him. You privileged babies think life is a rainbow. And it’s not.” She waved her gun in the direction of upstairs, where the child was locked in the dark room. “If he knew what a nightmare it could be for him, he’d be grateful for my mercy.”
Gulping as much breath as possible, I rasped weakly, “Let him go. Don’t hurt him.” I couldn't believe I was subjected to this treatment for the third time in my life. I found it quite ironic that a Cosa Nostra princess and pakhan’s woman, who was supposed to be protected at all costs, suffered this much. But why would I blame the mafia houses for it? My upbringing wouldn't have made a difference for people like Ciara, since I was bad by default because she blamed my mother for everything going wrong in her life. “He has nothing to do with it.”
“You were the one who insisted on bringing the boy with you.” Guilt like tiny little ants scratched my skin as regret settled deep inside me, because she was right. He just seemed so lonely at the headquarters with his parents arguing all the time, and skating in the park sounded like a good idea.
The last thing I expected was for my “sister” to turn all psycho on us. Her own confessions confirmed she was a deeply traumatized child who had pushed her abuse to the far ends of her subconscious. When she saw my family during a visit to the States, it had triggered her memory, bringing all the pain and imprisonment back. I probably should have been angry or wanted to kill her, but oddly enough, she reminded me of Damian and Dominic, who went through the same thing. They dealt differently, but then again, that was probably in the eye of the beholder.
“Please, Ciara.” My begging pleased her as she smiled genuinely.
“How does it feel to be at someone else’s mercy? Awful, right?” Then she huffed in annoyance and in record time reached upstairs. The click of the door could be heard in the distance, and in a second, she dragged Jake by his shirt as he struggled against her, crying his heart out, and I ached to soothe him. No child should ever be subjected to this nightmare. “Sit near her and shut up!” He sobbed, but curled into a ball next to me, while she faced me.
“You know what’s funny? I don’t even feel satisfaction in knowing I did this to you.” She paused, staring blankly into space, having her own moment. “You were all sweet after waking up in the hospital. We had those chats that I never did with Angelica… friendship even. Sometimes I could even pretend you were Angelica, and I could freely love you. But then Dominic showed up and shattered it.” She wiped the tears sliding down her cheeks, shifting back and forth, her boots makingslosh, sloshsounds in the pool of Ercole’s blood. “The evil had to be punished.” Suddenly, she stopped, exhaled heavily, and pointed her gun at me. I stilled and closed my eyes, hoping this would go quick.
Third time was the charm, right?
Dominic
Rushing inside, ignoring the calls behind me, I removed the gun from the holster and scanned the place, while the FBI and CIA surrounded the building, flashing their warrants to the FSB as if they could act all high and mighty in a foreign country. The stupidity of some people sometimes really surprised me, although maybe it shouldn’t.
Ciara stood, pointing a Browning Black Label Mark III handgun at Rosa, who rested her back against the wall, blood leaking from both her side and her mouth onto the floor. Ciara jumped, scared at seeing me, her eyes widening as she shifted her focus on me. “Stay back, Dominic.” Her voice was cold and disgusted. She reminded me little of the seductress who tried to get in my pants back in Italy. Her makeup-free face and bare arms held scars that only a harsh belt and self-harming could inflict, and the energy of desperation reeked from her. “I will kill her and you.” She gripped the weapon harder with both hands as they trembled slightly. “You don’t deserve it as they do, so don’t make me do it.” Only then, I noticed a barely breathing man on the floor with blood pooling all around him, his white shirt completely soaked in it, and he had several bullets in his chest.
Ercole, the monster who destroyed her life.
“Ciara, put down the gun.” Although it would have been easier killing her in this moment, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not after knowing her full story and the fact he had put her through child abuse.
She laughed bitterly, pulling the strands of her hair behind her ear. “If you’d just loved me that day on Arbat Street… if you’d just changed your mind.” Her whisper made me frown as I questioned where I would have seen her, when it clicked for me.
Vasya, around seven to eight years ago, held a meeting with the Italian and Irish mafias in the center of Moscow, and one of them showed up with a girl. Since she wore glasses and a hat, I wouldn't have recognized her, and honestly remembering women wasn't even on my radar back then. I fucked, and that was about it.
My eyes noticed the movement at the other end of the house as Damian slowly, like a leopard, hid behind the banister to have the best aim on Ciara. He gave me a silent nod to continue distracting her, so he could ambush her from behind. “Rosa is not at fault for what happened to you, Ciara.”
