“This is kidnapping,” I mutter as he guides me toward a black SUV idling at the curb.
“Lightly,” he replies, opening the door with the ghost of a smile.
I slide into the seat, pulse racing, and watch my building disappear as we drive away. The familiar brick is swallowed by sheets of rain and shadow. As we drive, I check my phone; no messages.
What is going on?
Time passes, and I realize I have no idea where we’re going. Savannah blurs past, streets giving way to trees, the city loosening its grip as the land thickens and stretches.
“Is this about him?” I asked finally, unable to hold it in any longer. There’s only one reason I can think of that would result in me being dragged from my home.
Liev found out.
And maybe murdered his boss, the leader of Georgia’s Bratva. Maybe this is a relocation or something, my dad trying to save me from the very danger he brings. The temptation that tagged along like a shadow.
Nika’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer.
The road narrows, then curves, trees arching overhead as though conspiring to swallow us whole. When the iron gates appear, it’s black and imposing through the rain. My chest tightens.
The driveway beyond the gate winds long and slow. Oak branches heavy with moss hang low enough to brush the roof of the car. Dusk settles in gradually, the rain easing as though oncue, and when the estate comes into view, it steals my breath away.
I’ve never been here before. But it can only belong to him.
Amber light spills from wide windows, warm and inviting. The light glows against beige columns and sprawling porches that stretch outward. The house doesn’t loom; its grounded and ancient beauty is softened by time rather than diminished. Arched sections of the porch frame the front like something out of a storybook. Polished wooden rocking chairs sit idly beneath the overhang. Potted ferns hang in the corner of each arch.
Homey.
The word slides uninvited into my thoughts, and I hate it.
Other buildings dot the grounds, set back and purposeful, their outlines obscured by the moss and trees. Business. Housing. Something else entirely. When I squint, I can see men moving from one building to another. This isn’t just a house.
The SUV stops, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and before I can gather my thoughts, Nika is opening my door again.
“No,” I say, sharper now. “Take me home.”
“Inside,” he replies, his tone inviting no argument.
The front door opens before I can bite back, and there stands my father.
For half a second, relief flashes through me; sharp and unwelcome, but it’s quickly followed by something hotter and volatile. What wouldhedo to save me? He’s the reason I got dragged to the States.
An old, buried enemy whispers in my head:Maybe if he hadn’t left, Mom wouldn’t have died.
“You,” I say, the word carrying everything I haven’t said to him in years. “You had no right.”
“Alyona,” Liev begins, stepping forward.
“No,” I cut in, the anger finally breaking free and stepping around Nika. “You don’t get to decide when you show up in mylife, and you don’t get to collect me like I’m a piece of luggage because it suits you.”
“This is about your safety,” he says, his voice careful.
“You don’t get to talk about my safety,” I snap. “You left.”
Silence stretches between us, brittle and fragile, and then another presence steps forward, heavier and colder.
Kazimir Baranov.
The air shifts instantly, the warmth of the house feeling like a lie. Or a disguise.
