Chapter One
Lauren
Hannah curls her fingers around mine as we leave preschool.
There’s a lump in my throat again. The same lump that was present yesterday when I saw the black SUV parked outside of my apartment building. I’m not quite sure how or why a black car can make me this anxious, but it does. I hope they got a parking fine and they’ll never come back.
Jesus, Lauren, relax.
It’s just a car.
There’s no reason to feel uneasy about anything, especially not a car. For the past four years, things have been perfectly… fine. I guess my mind has a tendency to go off on tangents, searching for… signs?
Signs of what?
I sigh and decide to push my spiraling thoughts into the back of my mind where they belong. They are not helping. I guess there’s still a subconscious part of me that can’t get over what happened four years ago. Maybe it never will. Maybe my traumatized brain is playing tricks on me, using the black SUV as a stinging reminder that I will never truly be able to leave the past in the past.
Four years have passed. Four years since Nikolai Rogov, Bratva boss, recovering jerk, the love of my life, and the father of my daughter sacrificed his life for us. I keep telling myself that things have been normal. That I’ve found my peace. But the truth is, I haven’t.
I turn the corner, finding myself sucking in a breath.
And there it is again.
Shit.
My chest tightens. I falter in my step, staring suspiciously at the vehicle.
“Mommy, what is it?” Hannah tugs on my hand, immediately feeling the shift in my demeanor.
“Nothing, baby,” I say to both myself and my baby girl. “Mommy is just being a little silly.”
It could belong to a new neighbor. The car is parked in the same position as yesterday. With the windows tinted, I can’t see if there’s anyone inside.
Maybe they’re inside one of the apartments.
Maybe they’re insidemyapartment.
Seriously, Lauren?
I tighten my grip on Hannah’s hand and rush us inside, calling for the elevator as soon as we step inside the building. I might be being paranoid, but you can never be too careful. Not when you have a past like mine. Not when you have a baby girl to protect.
I navigate through the corridor to my apartment and unlock the door, cracking it open. Hannah casually walks in and dumps her preschool bag on the couch, hopping up onto the table to start her homework.
I stand in the center of the living area for a moment, staring at her little legs as they swing back and forth mid-air. They’re not long enough to touch the ground yet, which only reminds me of how tiny and vulnerable she is. How innocent.
I take a long, deep breath and slowly release it in an attempt to calm myself, but it’s not enough to get rid of the tension. Maybe I’ll do some breathwork and meditation later. I’ve read that they’re two of the best methods to calm an overactive nervous system. I’ve tried them a few times and the results were surprisingly good.
For the past four years, all I have been trying to do is protect my daughter and turn her into a happy and stable human being. My only focus has been to keep her safe and to give her the loving childhood she deserves—the childhood every kid deserves. The childhood I never got to have.
I walk toward the window and peer out.
The car is gone.
Where did they go?
I’m still not quite sure why that makes me feel nauseous, but it does. I sigh and drop my keys in the bowl, heading into the kitchen. To be completely honest, there’s a good chance that my head is just creating crazy scenarios for no real reason. I always had a wild imagination. Hypervigilance. With a childhood and a past like mine, it is no wonder I turned out like that. Maybe the consequence of sticking my nose into unlawful business isn’t just Nikolai’s death. Maybe it’s a life of hallucinations, too. Maybe the guilt I have over what happened to him is too much for my mind to bear.
Cool it, Lauren.
