Someone cleared his throat, and my eyes snapped around to notice Dima right next to me as he opened his arms and gave me a man hug, patting my back vigorously. “Good to see you out, man, really good,” he whispered, squeezing me one last time, and then he leaned back, flashing me yet another fucking annoying grin. As much as I thought of scolding him for his behavior, the memories of the small boy I had picked up on the streets wouldn’t let me.
Practically all the Bratva consisted of the boys or teenagers I took under my wing. That thought alone made me feel older than my thirty-nine years.
“You too, Dima, you too. Thank you for getting me out of this.” Credit had to be given when it was due. I had no fucking clue how he managed to find Cliff’s real killer or his deal with the judge; all that mattered was Dima gave me back my freedom.
Something flashed in his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut, and it unsettled me. Dima and Dominic both often had a weird expression as if they wanted to tell me something every time the subject of my freedom came up but didn’t know how.
A rush of adrenaline surged through my veins at the knowledge I was finally fucking free from the dump where I’d spent five years. Technically it was six, but I refused to count the six months before the sentence as hope was still alive back then that the Bratva could find a solution to my problems, and the last six months; we knew I was getting out, it was just a matter of when.
No more cuffs.
No more beatings from the guards or fights for dominance with inmates.
No more fucked-up food or wearing fucking orange.
I was a free man.
One who was about to make those people who put him inside here pay.
“Do you have all the files?” Dima tensed, but under my harsh stare, he nodded and extended his hand with the folders.
“Are you sure about this,brat?” he asked, clearly not liking my decision because it endangered everything I had fought for during the last five years.
Oh, I was sure.
So many people to collect debts from.
But I’d start with the one who’d betrayed me the most.
The woman I loved, the only woman who occupied my thoughts all those years, from the moment I’d met her.
The only woman in this world I used to live for.
Vivian.
New York, New York
Vivian
My phone rang loudly in the silent room, echoing off the walls and chilling my bones, as my body stilled and couldn’t move from the fear running through my veins.
I was waiting for that call, dreaded it, but it had come and it was terrifying.
No part of me wanted to answer, but sometimes life didn’t give you choices. A harsh truth I had learned to survive in this world.
Padding slowly on the icy-cold marble floor, I gulped as much air into my lungs as possible so I wouldn’t appear weak to anyone.
Finally reaching the phone near the table lamp next to the sofa, I raised it to my ear and answered with a firm voice. “Hello?”
“Vivian.” My father’s voice spoke from the other end of the line, laced with worry. “He is out.”
Three simple words.
Yet those three simple words threatened to destroy my life as I knew it, and I was powerless to stop it.
Without bothering to listen to anything else he had to say, I disconnected the call, threw the phone on the chair, and walked onto the balcony, trying to calm myself with the New York view at night.
Shimmering lights illuminated the city in a way that created a feeling of mystery and romance. But while on most days it calmed me and allowed my mind to drift away, in that moment, it didn’t help me as much as I willed it to.
