Prologue
Seven years before Antonio Rasili’s death…
The alley was dark, the ground slick with rain that had not stopped falling in a light drizzle since morning. I shivered as a cool draft brushed against my skin and pushed the heavy metal door open a little wider, stepping into the alley, lit only by the moon. I strained my ears. He was there, I knew it. He liked to get some air at nightfall. It was what he had done these past months, ever since he had been here. Chained here.
I wanted to see him. Had to. I had not seen him for almost a week since my punishment, his punishment because that was what it was, wasn’t it? My punishment was his. He was my Shadow, the one fate had shackled to me without giving him any say. We were bound, in the worst possible way, bound by suffering and blood. I froze when I heard sounds. Growls and…of a struggle ? I leaned out of the doorway and looked toward the dead end of the alley where the sounds were coming from. and felt my blood turned to ice. Two figures stood there. He was there, pinned against the wall, my Shadow cornered by another Shadow, far larger and older, far stronger and darker. My Shadow was almost as young as I was. Only seventeen, one year older than me, already marked for life because of me.
“My poor boy, you really are unlucky. Being bound to that bitch, I wouldn’t give you a year. Today it’s a scar, tomorrow an arm, then your head. That whore is going to get you killed,” the old Shadow sneered, shoving my Shadow violently against the wall, making him groan. “No talk her like that,” my Shadow replied between clenched teeth, his accent strong, thick, his English broken. He tried to straighten up, but the old Shadow struck him in the stomach, forcing him to fold over, knocking the air from his lungs. “Looks like you need to be trained too, just like thatbitch. You’re nothing but a kid! But I’ll teach you all about life. A second scar won’t hurt,” he spat, pulling a knife from his boot and grabbing my Shadow’s shaved head to force him upright, bringing the blade toward his face. I was on the old Shadow’s back before I even realized it. I screamed and he shouted as I drove my fingers into his eyes. He stumbled back, his free hand tangling in my hair, and hurled my frail body over his shoulder. I hit the ground hard, sobbing as something warm ran down my temple. “Fuck! I don’t give a damn if the Master has plans for you! I’ll kill you, bitch!” the Shadow roared with the knife inches from my face. My Shadow suddenly knocked him down by some miracle, given that he barely reached half the man’s height.
The old Shadow’s knife slipped from his grasp as he was already throwing my Shadow to the ground, straddling him, his fist crashing down on his face. “I’m going to kill you! Both of you!” the old Shadow screamed, his voice echoing through the dark, empty alley. The music from the party inside reached us, muffled. No one would hear us. No one would come. No one would save us. The old Shadow wrapped his large hands around my Shadow’s neck and began to squeeze. The choking sounds my Shadow made echoed as his legs kicked against the wet asphalt, but he couldn’t break free. He couldn’t. He was just a kid, like me.
Boom. Boom. The bass from the reception hall pounded in my head. Boom. Boom. Against my temples. Boom. Boom. Not the bass, it was my heart. Boom. Boom. He was dying. He was going to die. My Shadow was going to die.
My lips trembled as I pushed myself onto my knees. He couldn’t die. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t want to be left alone with the monsters. I couldn’t. I was afraid.
I grabbed the old Shadow’s knife with shaking hands, freezing terror, and a scream of rage, I plunged it into his throat. Blood sprayed across my face and across my Shadow’s as he drew in ahuge gasp of air, finally freed from the old Shadow’s hands. The man tried to grab the knife lodged in his throat, but before he could even touch it, he collapsed to the ground, choking on his own blood. I stared at him without moving. I watched him gurgle in his blood, his eyes rolling back, his legs kicking uselessly before he went completely still. Dead.
I lowered my gaze to my hands, soaked in the blood of the man I had just killed. Memories surged up, screams and blood. Again. I had killed a man. Again. I had taken a human life. Again. Rougher hands seized mine, pressing them against a warm chest beneath a damp T-shirt as I lifted my wide eyes to my Shadow’s bloodied face. To his marked face. Marked by my punishment, by my fault. The rain soaked our clothes, plastering my hair against my cheeks and mixing with my blood running down my temple. “I killed him,” I whispered, never taking my eyes from his as he looked at me with concern. My Shadow was still trying to catch his breath, coughing and gasping. He had almost died. Death, that was what my life was made of now, wasn’t it?
“Calm down. I’m here,” my Shadow said, one of his hands resting against my blood-smeared cheek. Mine? Or the old Shadow’s?
His hand slid to the back of my neck, pressing our foreheads together. He had no right. Shadows were not allowed to touch the Stars. It was forbidden. Abnormal. But nothing was normal between him and me, was it?
“I’m here. Together, Sienna. Together,” he murmured.
“Together, Kenji,” I repeated in a broken voice, my tears mixing with the blood. I had killed once again and it would not be the last time.
Chapter 1
Sasha
Grigori and Nikolai were talking with other boys their age near the entrance. I clenched my fists against my thighs, forcing down the furious urge to join them. They didn’t want me. I was too small, according to them, according to everyone, really. I pressed my lips together and looked away, scanning the square for my little brother instead. Roman was playing in the middle of the plaza, chasing other children his age.
We were attending one of the charity events the women of the Bratva regularly organized to raise money for the families of men who had died for the organization. It had been my mother’s idea years ago, after seeing how difficult it was for widows to raise their children alone.
“Sasha, stop fiddling with the tablecloth, moy angel,” my mother’s voice suddenly sounded behind me as her light hands settled on my narrow shoulders. I wasn’t tall yet, nor as muscular as Nikolai but I would be. I trained every day.
I let go of the tablecloth and lifted my head to look at her. Elena Ivanov was the most beautiful woman I knew but wasn’t that true for all sons and their mothers? People said a girl’s first love was her father. It was the same for boys. Our first love was our mother.
She studied my face with eyes as blue as mine, almost turquoise. Her long, straight black hair slipped over her shoulder as she leaned down to speak to me, her scent tickling my nose. A scent I could never quite describe, it smelled like warmth, softness, safety. Like home.
“I know you didn’t want to come, Sasha, but this event is important to me. Don’t you want to make me happy? Go play with Roman, will you?” she asked, her gentle hand brushingmy cheek but I pushed it away and turned my gaze back to the table, jaw tight.
I heard her sigh softly as she straightened behind me. She was right, I hadn’t wanted to come. I was tired of being treated like a child. I had to sit with the kids, play with Roman, while Nikolai attended meetings with Father and Grigori. I was almost nine years old.
“Is there a problem?” my father’s deep voice asked suddenly as I saw him approach, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.
“I’m trying to convince our Sasha to stop sulking, but nothing works,” my mother replied, taking the hand my father offered her. He pulled her closer and kissed her cheek with a faint smile. Father rarely smiled in public, only when he was with mother.
Once, I had overheard Aunt Natasha talking to her, she said we must always present a united front outside, even when we didn’t feel like it. At the time, I hadn’t understood what she meant but later, after mother and father had fought violently at home, mother had even grabbed a kitchen knife to threaten him, I still hadn’t understood. Father had smiled then, too. That puzzled me even now. Afterward, mother had ignored him all day, not saying a single word. And like magic, that evening, during a dinner with another Bratva family, they had talked, laughed, and mother had even let father kiss her, more than once. That night, they had completely disappeared into their bedroom, leaving us with Aunt Natasha. That was when I understood what Aunt Natasha had meant. Weakness was never shown outside. No matter how much war raged at home, in public we were a family.
“Maybe I could convince him?” my father said, wrapping an arm around my mother’s waist. She shot him a sharp look and slapped his hand away. “Don’t start, Mikhail Ivanov,” shesighed but neither father nor I missed the smile tugging at her lips. “So, champion, what’s the problem?” my father asked as he crouched beside me, one hand resting on the back of my chair.
I pressed my lips together, unwilling to confide in him. I didn’t want him to see me as a whining kid. He was the head of the Bratva, one of the most dangerous organizations in existence. Everyone feared him. I wanted his respect, not his pity. But he was my father, and like my mother, he needed only one look to read me like an open book. A crooked grin appeared on his face before his hand ruffled my hair. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, son. Your time will come far sooner than you think. Much sooner than necessary,” he added, his smile slowly fading as his dark eyes so much like Grigori’s and Roman’s studied my face. I merely shrugged, eyes fixed on the white tablecloth. From the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his gaze toward my mother behind me before standing up.
“All right, big guy. This weekend, I’m going to the seniors’ training. Want to come with me? I’ll let you shoot with the weapon of your choice.” I straightened instantly, my interest fully awakened. I glanced at my mother, she was the one who had forbidden us to touch any weapon before the age of fifteen. Even Nikolai had only just begun training. “Only with your father. Never alone,” she said, locking her eyes onto mine. “Promise!” I answered without hesitation.
She nodded with a small smile as I turned back to my father, who laughed at my sudden excitement. “See? I told you I’d convince him,” he said, winking at Mother. I didn’t hear her reply. Grigori’s voice suddenly rang out across the reception hall. “Take cover!”
