Twisting Fate
Copyright © 2024 by Mishan Angel
Chapter 1
Marek
.
I glared at my second. We were in the middle of an arms deal with the Colombians, and the last thing I wanted was to be interrupted. There were three other brothers they could contact that wouldn’t be finishing up a deal to handle something.
For once, though, he wasn’t smiling. Aleksei was normally a bit of a jokester and more often than not, he had a smile on his face, no matter the situation. It balanced my perpetual frown that was etched onto my face for years. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I smiled. Not even Aleksei’s greatest jokes would make me crack a smirk. An eyebrow raise maybe, but nothing would get me to smile; not anymore.
“Why are you telling me this and not contacting my brothers?”
Aleksei rubbed his palms against his pants. “Juri is in Russia right now. Kazmer is in Florida handling a different agreement with the new port opening, and Lev is arms deep in baby shit since the twins came home. It’s up to you, pakhan.”
My lip curled. Aleksei knew better than to call me that. I was not our Pakhan or Vor, as my brother preferred. I was the youngest male in our family. Not to mention the only significant talent I brought to the table was reliability. ‘And loyalty’ echoed in my head that my father drilled into me.
Being unremarkable in the bratva was very nearly death sentence on its own. My two sisters, one younger and one older, inherited our mother’s looks. They had been married off years ago. Juri was currently our Vor, head of our family, after our father passed. Kazmer was his second as the Master of Numbers. With a photographic memory, Kaz was an asset all on his own. Lev was the computer genius and hacker extraordinaire. At the moment, he had swapped out his computer duties for diapers since his fourth and fifth children were born a week ago.
My brothers and sisters were supportive of me, but in the pitiful way. They included me because they knew if I wasn’t, no one would give me a second glance. I’d proved myself over the years. Proved that I was reliable, a good soldier, a good brother, and I would do what was required of me to get the job done. That’s how I survived over these years. Having my own platoon of men under my command, only my Vor was higher in rank than I was in our bratva.
“Marek?” Aleksei looked at me expectantly, holding out his phone.
“Watch them. I trust them as far as I could throw the boat they shipped those guns on.”
Aleksei laughed, but nodded. Swiping the phone from his hand, I turned my back on the deal and walked a few paces away. Once I made it out of the warehouse, I took out a smoke and leaned against the black Escalade.
“Chto?” [What?] I growled into the line.
“Izvini, boss, but we didn’t know what to do.”
I let out a drag. “Laslo, I don't need your apologies. What I need to know is why the fuck you are interrupting me while I am working?”
“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.” I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. “We ran into a situation tonight. There was someone in our territory. Specifically, near the strip club on the West side. We put them in the cellars, but before they passed out, they were requesting…help.”
My eyes narrowed. “They specifically asked for help from our guys? Or they were asking for help from anyone on the street?”
He was silent for a moment. “They knew our boys, boss. They didn’t ask anyone else. After they asked for help…” Laslo took a moment to finish his sentence, an irritating habit he had when he didn’t want to get yelled at. “…they asked to be killed.”
My eyes widened and my hand dropped a bit, the cigarette forgotten between my fingers. “Asked to be killed? How the fuck did they know to come to you?”
He hummed over the line. “I don’t know. But…the reason we even took them was because the very last word before they passed out was Morozov.”
I stood up from my lean. Morozov was my mother’s maiden name. Someone had to know about our family if they knew her maiden name. My father kept that information close at hand and made sure that after he changed her name to Baranov that all records of her before that disappeared. The Baranov Bravta was one of the largest and most feared throughout the mafia territories. We extended our reach all over the world, the biggest territories being here in New York and Moscow.
“Well, der’mo.” [Well, shit.] I pitched the bridge of my nose for a moment. “I’m two hours outside of the city. Before I head over, I need to finish up here. Don’t touch them until I get there.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hung up on him. Walking back to the warehouse after I stamped out the cigarette, I eyed Aleksei speaking with Columbia’s second, Paulo. Unlike his name suggested, the man was not wise. He’d tried to double cross us multiple times over the years without his boss’s approval. How the zasranets continued to still work for Ortiz Cartel, let alone still breathed, was beyond me. I’d kill Aleksei the first time it happened, and the man was like a brother to me, a cousin by blood.
“Ah! Marek! I was wondering where you scurried off to.” His thick accent made my name sound more like a slur than anything. Sometimes I preferred it coming from his mouth like that. The more he feared me and my brothers, the better.
“Business. You know, what you should be doing instead of standing around giggling like schoolgirls.”
Paulo clicked his tongue a few of times. “All work and no play makes Marek a dull pendejo.”
My fingers itched to grab the gun at my side and put a bullet between his eyes. At this point, I’d be doing Miguel a favor. Aleksei was behind him, giving me the usual ‘you kill him, and you do the cleaning up’ look that I hated so much.
“Let’s finish up here. You want to throw your cash into the ocean, that’s on you. We, however, have a business to run.”
Paulo had enough sense to leave me the fuck alone and yell at his guys to hurry. I followed him, Aleksei at my heels, as I looked through some of the crates that were being unloaded. Everything looked good this time. I knew Miguel had specifically said he would take responsibility himself if anything went wrong. His daughter was already arranged to marry Juri’s eldest son. He was only fifteen, and she was thirteen, but the match would be certain once they were a little older. It would solidify our tentative alliance.
One of the guys came up, whispered into Paulo’s ear, and he replied in quick Spanish. He turned to us and smiled wide.
“Well, gentleman. It seems everything is unloaded. Miguel wanted you to take a look at one specific crate and see if you were interested in adding a little extra. We procured these, and it wasn’t really on the planned manifest.”
My eyes narrowed. The last time someone said that to me, they opened a shipping crate full of women they had drugged and trafficked internationally. That was one thing we put our foot down on: human trafficking. We didn’t stop anyone else from doing it, that was a black mark on their souls, but we sure as hell didn’t touch that side of the business. Paulo walked over to a smaller crate that was closer to where they had been unloading the guns. Flipping the lid open, Paulo stepped aside and motioned inside.
Looking down, I eyed the two rocket launchers that were nestled in the crate among the wood shavings. “How much ammunition?”
“Twelve. Six for each or however you want to even it out.”
Nodding, I leaned down to see the side of it. “Numbers?”
“None. Never had any to begin with.”
“What does Miguel want for them?”
Paulo smirked. “Ten thousand for the two of them.”
I snorted and gave him an eyebrow. “Were you planning on skimming off the top of the profits, pendejo?” As much as he butchered my name with his accent, my thick Russian accent butchered his language.
He was quick enough to school his face. “I don’t know…”
“I’ll give you the five thousand Miguel already spoke to me about before getting here. I’ve added it to the total and already wired the money. Add it with the rest of the crates. Pleasure doing business with you, Paulo.”
Turning, I walked away from the asshole and Aleksei followed right behind. I was glad I spoke to Miguel earlier. I probably would have paid the ten thousand for the ammo and the fact that they were unmarked. What I was unwilling to do was let Paulo pocket that money. Motioning one of our guys over, I jerked my head back at the Columbian crew.
“Finish up here. I want every single Columbian out of here before anyone leaves. I need to handle some business in the city. Anything goes wrong, shoot them all.”
My men nodded and started barking orders in Russian, and they all moved closer to the crates and the guys to make sure everything got done. I got in the passenger seat of the Escalade and Aleksei got in the driver’s seat.
“Where to?”
“Goddess Divine.”
His eyebrows skyrocketed into his shaggy brown hair as his smile widened. “Are we celebrating?”
I looked at him and immediately he shut his mouth. “Work. Apparently, there is a stray asking for help.”
Chapter 2
.
We arrived at the strip club in about ninety minutes, thanks to Aleksei’s driving. Sometimes, I had to force myself not to kiss the ground when he drove. God damn maniac. My uncle drove for a bit in the off-road racing circuit. Unfortunately, he taught all my cousins how to drive like that, no matter where they were. It was great when we needed to deliver something fast, but being a passenger was asking to step beyond the pearly white gates.
The bouncer out front opened the door for us as we walked into the club. The music was loud, smoke hung from the ceiling like cloudy day, and the smell of booze had turned sour. I stayed out of these shitholes. I preferred the business side, our larger corporations, than the seedy bars, clubs, diners, and other places that were dotted around our territory. Sure, I still managed them, but I didn’t need to do that in person.
Walking through to the backhouse, I nodded to the ladies getting ready and snapped at Aleksei as he veered off in their direction.
“Work, Aleksei. Then play.”
He chuckled. “Yes, pakhan.”
Every time it grated on me, but after a thousand and one times of tell him to shut up, Aleksei never listened. I used to think he enjoyed getting a rise out of me and so I stopped letting it show that it bothered me or acknowledging it. Turns out, he still did it.
“Boss.” Laslo stepped forward and nodded to me. “You were faster than I expected. The Columbian’s behave?”
“No, but what else is new? How’s our gost’?” [How’s our guest?]
He opened the door that led down to the lower levels. Not all our properties had basements, but we turned those that did into jail cells. Some were more equipped for torture than others. You never knew when one of our enemies decided to sneak into your territory and you needed to make them sing like a canary.
“Still out cold.”
My eyes had to adjust to the lighting. The yellow tinted lights that hung on the walls were reminiscent of the ones you found on construction sites. They cast an eerie glow on the cement grey. This basement was particularly small. I knew we used this normally for those who didn’t pay. Not necessarily requiring the full repertoire of torture devices needed to extract information. There were only four cells in the whole place and two rooms. One room served as a break room for our personnel; we used the other for interrogations.
“The last one…here…” Laslo pointed to the far cell, and I could see a body curled up on the floor in the fetal position.
Going over to the cell, my eyes widened. “You didn’t say it was a fucking child! A girl at that! I told you not to fucking touch her!”
She was covered in blood. You could easily see parts of her face were bruised and swelling. Her shirt was torn and blood completely soaked it, to where I had no idea what the original color was. There were also remnants of pants on her legs, but they were so torn up that you could see her skin.
Her skin tone may have been leaning towards white, but there were so many scratches and bruises that there was no way to tell the color anymore. The worst were her wrists and right ankle. They were bent weirdly, signifying they were broken. My anger spike to rage as I looked at Laslo. His hands flew up as he stepped back.
“We didn’t…boss…we didn’t touch her. She came in like that. Hobbling out of the alley. She passed out and Boris caught her before she hit the ground.”
I stared at the body. She didn’t look alive. She was pencil thin, easily a sign of malnutrition. This was what you saw in third world countries, not New York City. Hell, even the homeless looked better than she did. This was abuse or someone wanted to kill her.
“You said she asked for help?”
“Specifically, she said ‘please help or please kill me’.” Laslo was looking at her, sadness in his eyes. “I’ve seen nothing like this. She’s just a rebenok.” [She’s just a child.]
Rubbing my chin, I stared down at her. Well, this was a wrench in my night. I didn’t even know how to really handle this. I mean, obviously, I’d get nothing from her in this state. How she knew to use my mother’s name. How she ended up in that condition. Why was she asking for death? Who the hell was she? She could only answer all these questions, and she was currently out cold.
Going into the cell, I crouched down just behind her back. The shirt she had on was sticking to her, and I knew there was some kind of open wound there as well. Putting two fingers to her neck, she had a pulse, but it was weak. It surprised me, considering the state she was in, that she was still alive. Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I stood up and stepped away from her.
Pulling out my phone, I put it to my ear. “Kamilia.”
“Brat.” [Brother.]
“What are you doing right now?”
She sighed. “Apparently, packing up my supplies and coming over.”
I let out a chuckle. “You know me too well.”
“You only call when you need something. For once, I’d just like to talk to you like we used to.”
My older sister was born between Juri and Kazmer. She was to be sold off, but she found a better way to become one of the top doctors in the state. My father ended up still having her marry for the bratva, but it wasn’t to lead by a Vor’s side. She married one of the second sons of another Russian Bratva family. However, it meant that she could stay close and help the family. She was our primary care physician while she pursued an illustrious medical career.
“What’s the condition?” Her voice broke through my thoughts.
I gazed over the little thing in our cell. “Broken bones, bruises, scratches, bleeding quite a bit, but I’m unsure of the extent of the injuries on her back.”
“Her?” Whatever my sister was doing stopped as she asked.
“Yeah. Came over to our boys knowing who they were. She’s…either been tortured or abused…or both. She’s a twig…”
Kamilia let out a huff. “Sounds like it’s been going on for a while if she’s a twig.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m bringing her to the house. Be there when I get there.”
She snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Zasranets.” [Asshole.]
The line went dead, and I shoved the phone in my pocket. Taking off my jacket, I rolled up the sleeves of my black Armani shirt. Opening the cell, I bent down and picked up the girl. She was lighter than I even realized. In my arms, she looked like a doll. My brothers were all built, but somehow, I got the ‘built like a farmhouse’ side of the family. My shoulders were wider, and I maxed out at 6’ 6”.
I worked out a lot as a teenager and into my twenties, doing hours and hours of weights a day. Now, I kept my body in shape enough to take down anyone if I needed to, though those days were rare now. However, I was pretty sure I lifted more weight than what she weighed by the time I was fifteen.
“Aleksei, you drive. We are headed home.”
He nodded, not saying a word. His eyes focused on the girl in my arms. This probably hit a little close to home for him. His sister once had been kidnapped. The condition we got her back in wasn’t nearly as bad as this poor girl, but she hadn’t been able to make it. This one somehow walked, from god knows where, to the club with all this damage and still be able to ask for help. She was stronger than most, but how strong I would need her to tell me.
“Should we warn Lev?”
I shook my head. “If she wakes up between now and getting there, we can. Otherwise, if she’s still out, there is no reason to move everyone. In this state, I don’t think she could even hurt a fly.”
Aleksei didn’t say anything else as we made our way up to the main floor. He headed back towards the club to pull the car around back. I wasn’t about to scare the shit out of everyone with a girl looking like this. Laslo opened the back door for me, and I headed out to wait for the car.
“Is there anything else you need, boss?”
I narrowed my eyes at Laslo for a moment. “See if your boys can track her movements through the cameras in the city. Lev’s a little busy and I want to see how far she came.”
He nodded and closed the door behind him, back into the club.
Chapter 3
.
Aleksei pulled around and quickly got out, opening the door for me. I set the poor girl across the back of the seat and debated putting on her seatbelt. It probably would do more damage than good, so I left her laid across the back row. Getting into the passenger seat again, Aleksei jumped back into the driver’s seat. Glancing back at her, he scrunched his face up and turned back to the road.
“Quick but gentle.”
“I know, I know.” He took off from the alley and turned onto the main road.
The estate was about the same distance from where we were now to the warehouse we had come from. Except in the opposite direction. Worse, it was through the central part of the city. Traffic was a nightmare, but we just had to suck it up.
I glanced back to where she was draped across the seat. Her arms hung off the edge now and dangled down. The sickly purple and red blotches, only marred by blood, were almost better to look at than the floppy wrists that swayed as the car moved. Cursing under my breath, I turned my eyes back to the road.
“Marek, what do you think?” Aleksei was staring intently at the traffic in front of him, his face screwed up in a grimace.
“I won’t know anything until she wakes up. Right now, she’s an unknown.” And I hated unknowns. I dealt in facts, not “what ifs”. That was Juri’s job.
He hummed but said nothing. The ride, even with Aleksei’s driving, took three hours to pull into the roundabout of the estate. It was a huge, sprawling, gaudy mansion. There were fifteen bedrooms, even more bathrooms, with a ridiculous number of offices and recreational rooms that spanned the three stories.
Probably for one family, it would have been ridiculous. However, Juri, Kazmer, and Lev, plus their families, our mother, and myself, lived in this one house. There were also a few detached buildings for the guards and maids to stay. The house was always busy and never felt its size. Sometimes it even felt like there wasn’t nearly enough room.
Jumping out as soon as Aleksei put it into park, I was glad my sister’s BMW was already parked in front as well. Reaching in, I carefully lifted the girl. Her head lulled against my chest, and I saw the faintest movement of my shirt as she breathed. Something had to be said that she was still alive considering how many hours it had been.
The door swung open before we even got up the stairs and my elder sister stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her face was pulled tight, annoyed, but as soon as her eyes fell onto the little thing in my arms, it washed away. Not panic, my sister never panicked, but an urgency flashed across her face.
“Fuck, Marek. You didn’t say it was this bad. Quick. I’m glad I set up in the spare room.”
I followed her up the stairs and down the hall to one of the guest rooms we kept. As she opened the door, I saw her equipment set up on and around the bed. Placing the girl down gently, Kamilia hip checked me out of the way.
Aleksei would not follow, and I figured he would disappear into his own room. Probably into a bottle of whatever was within arm’s reach as he went. Stepping back, I leaned against the dresser with my arms crossed over my chest.
Kamilia was quick to put an IV in. Next, she got out a light and lifted the girl’s eyelids. She flashed it twice in one eye and then another.
“It looks like she’s suffered from a concussion, but let’s hope it’s not as bad as everything else.”
Gently, Kamilia took one of her wrists in her hands. My eyes moved up as she jammed the wrist back into the socket. I could shoot a man between the eyes without blinking, but this sort of stuff I was not good with. She did the same to the other wrist but was feeling the hand itself.
“She’s broken bones in her palm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.”
I knew her words weren’t for me to answer or comment. When she worked, Kamilia liked to talk to herself. She said it helped her focus and diagnosis, but she did it with everything. It was just a quirk of my sister that she refused to acknowledge outside of work.
“Yebat’. She shouldn’t be alive.” [Fuck.] Her eyes found mine. “Where the hell did you find her?”
“Like I said, searched out the boys. She did, however, know Mother’s maiden name.”
Kamilia’s eyebrow rose as she looked back at the girl. “How interesting.”
I stared at my sister as she stared at the girl. “I feel like there is a story to tell here.”
“Are you not going to tend to her more?” Curious about my sisters’ lack of urgency.
“I’m not going to waste supplies if she’s going to be dead in a couple hours.” I winced at her tone. Adding one more bag to the IV will determine if she is still alive afterward. If she is, then I’ll treat everything else.”
I wanted to argue. This poor thing had been through hell from the looks of it. I didn’t really want her to die when she asked us for help. Then again, she asked for death as well. So maybe Death would be merciful enough to take her. Getting up from my lean, I headed out the door, nearly running into Lev.
“Kamilia said you were bringing in a girl.” He looked past me into the room.
I nodded. “She seems to think the girl won’t make it through the next few hours.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do we know who she is?”
“No. Her face is so fucked up, I don’t think anyone could recognize her.”
He hummed. “Why did you bring her here?”
The real question he was asking was why I brought a potential threat into the home where my nieces and nephews were. Why would I risk our safety and location for her? I didn’t answer for him because honestly, I didn’t know. The initial plan wasn’t to, but I also wasn’t expecting such a broken girl to be the one in the cell. Something in me couldn’t bear just passing her off to a hospital or letting her die in the alley.
I’d been there when we rescued Natasha, Aleksei’s little sister. Hell, I was the one carried her out into his waiting arms. Maybe I was just projecting, but it had been a while since I had this feeling. I realized Lev was waiting for my answer still.
“If she’s a threat, I’ll kill her myself.”
I know that wasn’t an answer to his question, but that was as good as he was going to get. Passing him, I headed back to their stairs to go up another floor. My room was on the east side and after a full day’s work, I needed a shower, a stiff drink, and some sleep.
* * *
I was in my office, Aleksei and four of my other heads were meeting about how best to handle the next development of a hotel just outside the city when there was a knock on the door. All heads turned as one of my nieces poked her head in. My eyebrows rose, the lot of them knowing never to interrupt meetings in the house.
“Sorry, Dyadya.” [Sorry, Uncle.] She was quiet as she looked around the room. “Tetya Kam asked for me to get you, no matter what. She said malen'kaya ptichka prosnulas'.” [She said little bird is awake.]
My heartbeat sped up as my stomach clenched. Normally, I would be all over my niece in her correct pronunciation of the Russian words. The girl we had brought in had survived the few hours that Kamilia required to treat her. After that, my sister basically mummified the poor girl. Over the past seven days, she’d lessened the number of bandages, but the girl still looked like a shriveled-up mummy.
Getting up, I dismissed the guys with a wave of my hand and followed my niece as she ran back to the guest wing. My strides were long and without even reaching a jog, I could keep up with her. I reached the door and rubbed my niece’s head as I opened it. Sure enough, the girl was sitting up against the bed. Kamilia was sitting next to her, but her face showed her frustration. The girl’s eyes, or rather eye, since one was still swollen shut, met mine.
There wasn’t surprise or any type of emotion that passed across her face. In fact, there was nothing in her eye. It was soulless. A bottomless orb of darkness. It was a sight that sent a shiver down my spine. It also made the hair on my back of my neck rise. My gut was telling me this girl was dangerous. Not because of anything physical but that this girl was nothing but a husk, barely living. People like that had nothing to lose, and that made her dangerous. At least in my experience over the years of working for the bratva.
Kamilia stood and came over to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in. “She won’t speak to me, no matter what I ask. I’m hoping you have better luck.”
She walked out of the room before I could even protest. I didn’t want to be left alone with this girl, even if I had brought her in. After a moment, I steeled myself and dropped into work mode. I might not be Vor, but I sure as hell commanded and demanded respect. Standing at the edge of the bed, the girl watched me as crossed my arms over my chest.
“Do you know who I am?”
She blinked once, then twice. Surprisingly, there was a quick nod of her head.
“Who am I?”
Chapter 4
.
Her eye narrowed, and I saw her swallow a couple of times. “Marek Baranov, fourth son of Ivano Baranov.” The voice was a croak, but it didn’t seem like it pained her to speak. I noticed her eye dart towards the water next to the bed.
I was about to tell her to take a drink when I remembered that both her wrists were dislocated and one of her hands was broken. Normally, an interrogation would be best if the person wasn’t comfortable, but I needed her to speak more than just a few words.
Striding over the edge of the bed, I grabbed the glass of water and leaned forward, tipping it slowly against her lips. For the first time, emotion crossed her face; surprise. However, it was gone as quickly as it came. She took small sips of the water until about half the glass was gone.
Stepping back, I placed the glass on the table, her eye following my every move. She was waiting for me to strike her down, I realized, but I didn’t let the disgust show on my face.
“Who are you?”
Her lips parted for a moment and then shut. After a few seconds, I realized this may have been futile. My hand went to the gun at my waist.
“Rosaria…Rosaria Bernardi.”
“Yabet’.”
She was Carlo Bernardi’s daughter. I didn’t know all their names because he had so damn many, but from the looks of her, she was one of the younger ones. I knew his three boys, Domani, Enzo, and Tempo. Domani had given up his position as head of the mafia to marry for love. It was a scandal and I’m pretty sure Domani barely escaped with his life. He’d been smart enough to hide his bride. It left Enzo to be the next in line as the head. He was young, though. So, their father, the ruthless fucking bastard, was still head even in his sixties.
“I should kill you right here.”
Her eye didn’t fear me, there was still that emptiness. “Please do. I’d asked your men, but they obviously are useless.”
I barked out a hollow laugh. “If they killed you, it would insight a war.”
“They wouldn’t know who I was. They would have thrown me in a ditch, and no one would have been the wiser.” Her voice was devoid of all emotion.
“Do you have a death wish, króshka?”
Using the word baby seemed appropriate. She was a child, a little girl who seemed to be too knowledgeable about our world.
She blinked a few times at me. “If you met my father, you would too.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Explain to me the series of events that brought you to my doorstep.”
Rosaria took a deep breath. “You are aware of my father’s reputation?”
I nodded. Cruel, ruthless, leading by fear, and a habit of threatening his own men. Oh, I was well aware of Carlo Bernardi’s reputation. My father and Carlo did not get along. There had been more than a few disputes, and a couple of wars, in their time. Our reach and resources always edged him out. It chaffed him to no end he couldn’t get us out of New York. As of late, he’d been quiet, but my brothers and I were always ready.
“Well, he’s worse when he knows he can get away with it. When it’s his own blood.” Her eyes, for the first time, left me and fell to her lap. “The men fear him, but know that his blood means next to nothing outside of Enzo.” The hatred in her voice when she said her brother’s name was shocking.
She continued. “The men enjoy themselves with us girls. Some of my sisters are willing, but most of us…” Her voice trailed off for a second.
“They raped you?”
Rosaria nodded. “My father found out his second in command had raped me. He called me a slut, a whore of the highest degree. He’s been off his game recently; his punishments aren’t as severe. I think old age is finally getting to him. Can’t quite whip with the same vigor he used to.” Her snort made her cough.
Stepping up again, I helped her sip the rest of the water. The eye that had looked down now stared at me and every single move I made. When I stepped back this time, I sat down on the chair Kamilia had been sitting in.
“I’d managed to get out this time; get free. The guards were all in the house getting drunk because they signed a merger with one of the Spanish cartels. I was able to get out, and I walked. The sun wasn’t going down, but by the time I was in your territory, it was. I’d listened for the first Russian I heard. Apparently, I’d reached my limit.” She grimaced.
“How do you know my mother’s name?”
Her eye still hadn’t left mine. “Long ago, when I was a child…” I snorted, she still was a child. “…my father’s last wife spoke of your mother. It was a detail I filed away. All information is valuable, no matter how insignificant it seems.”
My jaw locked. That was something my father had said. ‘Mar, always be listening. Always listen and remember. One day, knowledge can save your life even if it seems irrelevant now.’
“I’ve met some of your sisters. None of them seemed as knowledgeable as you are in the mafia.”
Again, she snorted. “I wasn’t useful in any other way to my father. When I was a baby, I was kidnapped from my crib. I received burns on part of my shoulder. Marring me and decreasing my value is too much to be worth selling me off. Therefore, I became his favorite plaything. He could now mark me as he wished, destroy me as he wished, without fear of my value falling.”
How she spoke of herself…I felt it stab into my heart. If my sisters ever spoke like this, or my nieces, I would kill whoever told them their worth was based on their bodies. Anger flared in me and now, more than ever, I wanted to put a bullet in that man’s head. He’d taken many of our men over the years, our brothers. Apparently, he did the same on his own.
“Your father has already started looking for you.”
She wasn’t surprised. Two days ago, our men had caught the Italians skirting not just our borders but the Irish as well. They’d asked permission from the American mafia group, but it seems like they doubted her going into that territory. It was easy to pull the pieces together. Now, knowing who she was.
“I’m sure it’s a kill order.”
Again, she was right. Under the suspicion of deflecting, a woman was to be killed on sight. The issue was, there was no photo, no name, nothing for anyone but the Italians to know her. Juri was already headed back from Moscow when he heard the shuffling of men on the border.
“I’d go out there and let them kill me, but giving my father the satisfaction that he finally killed his whore of a daughter irks me.” Rosaria scoffed.
“Did he…” Fuck, I didn’t know how to ask this. “Did Carlo ever touch his own daughters?”
Her eye stared deep into me. Searching for something before she sighed. “It was a family affair.”
Rising to my feet, I turned from the bed and made the two steps to the window. My hands felt like they needed to break something. Kamilia would say I shouldn’t believe her, not without confirming her story. Her eyes, how she said every fact, made me believe her. It was the same as someone rattling off a rap sheet. Cold hard facts, laid out in a detached manner. I felt gross. Her own family had violated this girl. The ones who should have been protecting her.
“Are you the youngest?” I asked, without looking at her.
“No. I have three younger sisters.”
My lips curled. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Whirling around, I took the girl in. Yes, she was still a child compared to me, but she looked younger. Hell, her body was so small I’d honestly thought she was fifteen or sixteen. Her face was blank, still staring at me.
“Our Vor will be back in a day. He will decide what to do with you. Until then, you will be confined to this room. My sister will continue to tend to you if she so wishes. Answer her questions.”
Striding out of the room, Lev, Kamalia, two of nieces and one of my nephews, along with Aleksei, fell back from the door they had been leaning against as I threw it open. Passing them without a word, I knew Aleksei would follow, but I didn’t care. I needed some air. As I walked back out into the garden trying to catch a breath, the wind had picked up as a storm rolled in.
I realized this wasn’t what I needed. The itch to shoot someone was too strong. It was hard not to feel like rampaging across New York, or that I needed out of my skin. The entire conversation with Bernardi’s daughter left me feeling off.
“Marek…what…?”
I continued to walk through the garden, going to the car park at the back of the property. Throwing open the garage doors, I got into my Audi A3 and took off. Aleksei was left behind in the garage, but he would manage.
At first, I didn’t have a destination, but my car drove to the fighting ring. It had been years since I’d been here. I was no longer a young man needing to prove myself in the ring and it seemed idiotic to hurt myself for bragging rights. Now they would be a way to unleash this fury and rage I was feeling.
Pulling into the lot, I slammed my door and headed in the back. Julian, the proprietor of the fighting pits, headed me off.
“Mr. Baranov, it’s been a while. Are you here to bet?”
Undoing my cuff, I continued through the crowd. “No. I’m here to fight.”
His eyes widened. “I…well…we can put you in a couple fights, but I don’t know if I have anyone else in your…class.”
Age, he meant. Because I needed to feel older today. Lord almighty, I wouldn’t be able to hold back today. I would actually kill someone if one more person tried to spit in my face.
“I don’t care who you send in, Julian. Just send someone good. If they aren’t, I’ll kill them.”
Pulling my shirt out of my pants, I stripped it off and slipped my belt from the loops as well. Dumping them on the bench by the locker room, I took off my shoes and socks. Rider, Julian’s secondhand man and brain behind this moneymaker, came up to me. He pulled out my hands and wrapped them.
“Try not to kill them today. I don’t know if we can break even if you do.”
I snorted. “Don’t send someone weak in and I won’t.”
Backing away, Rider nodded and held out his hand to motion me to the fighting pit that was in the center of the room. It was surprisingly busy for Thursday, but I figured there was a match these people were here for specifically. For now, though, they would have to sit and watch me pummel the shit out of everyone else.
Chapter 5
.
Shutting the door behind me, it was about four in the morning when I got back to the estate. I had left the pit around three and missed the messages from my brothers. Juri landed and apparently, they had already talked about the Italians. I didn’t know if Rosaria had provided any information to them. Or if they even bothered to ask. I’m sure they were more concerned with covering the border of our territory.
Quietly making my way up to my office, I poured myself a straight whiskey and barely sat down when my door slammed open. Kamilia was livid as she slammed the door shut behind her as well.
“What the fuck do you think you were doing? Just left, no information about where you had been or when you would be back. We’ve got the Italians up our ass and you decide to just fuck off?”
I took a sip of my drink as she seethed. “I’m sure Lev tracked my phone.”
“The fighting pits? Really Marek? You’re thirty-nine years old. Next year you’re going to be forty and you think it’s okay to go fight with the young bucks who have something to prove?”
Snorting, I shook my head. “They sure didn’t have anything to prove last night. They were weak. I accidentally killed two, but Julian and Rider made so much money off me, I don’t think they minded.”
Shifting my weight, I pulled a roll of hundreds out of my pocket and tossed it on my desk. Kamilia didn’t even glance at it. She came around the desk and grabbed my hands. They were bleeding, bruised, and I was pretty sure a couple of knuckles were broken, but it felt good to get everything out. Disappearing for a moment, she came out of the bathroom with the small first aid kit I kept in there. Her focus was on cleaning my knuckles as she stared down at my hands.
“Juri doesn’t know what to do with her. We kill her, we start a war. We send her out and get caught, we start a war. If she gets out without them knowing we were involved, she dies.”
I shrugged. “It’s what she wants. She wants to die. She just doesn’t want it to be at the hands of the Italians. I don’t really think she will have a choice in the matter if we want to avoid a war.”
Kamilia was quiet for a while as she worked. A couple of bandages later, she switched hands. “You know she’s had three abortions.”
Swallowing hard, I looked at my sister’s stern face.
“That family is fucked up. The girl is completely broken, her body is so battered I’m surprised she lived this long. Not just with this incident, but with any of them. Some of her scars…” She trailed off as she placed a bandage on the back of my hand.
“Killing her seems almost like a mercy.”
My sister’s eyes met mine, and I knew she agreed. She never would voice it. Her whole MO was saving people. Saving as many as possible and trying to keep the collateral damage down. Innocents shouldn’t be hurt, and we needed to watch ourselves. What had been done to Rosaria was more than my sister could write off.
“There has to be something we can do.” She mumbled as she placed my hands back onto the desk.
Looking up at me, her eyes were filled with tears. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. Maybe when our father died seventeen years ago.
“Is there really nothing we can do?” She asked me this time.
“Let me speak with my brothers and we will see.”
She nodded quietly. Her voice would have been lost on Juri, Lev and Kazmer. Juri was the not just the spitting image of our father but cut from the same cloth. Stern but fair; demanding of respect and the strength to back it up. Kazmer was steeped in facts. If there wasn’t a confirmation or benefit to what you were saying, it was dismissed.
I’d honestly been surprised when he brought home a woman, but she turned out to be a neuroscientist and they were of the same mind. Luckily, their kids didn’t seem to be so strait-laced, but you could tell by the influence of their parents in the way they spoke. Lev was the hacker. He cared little for the world outside of the computer. Lev also ran the security side of our more legitimate businesses. Like me, he only really dipped into the bratva side of things when Juri asked him. Otherwise, his work was dedicated to the businesses that were above water.
I, however, ended up being more compassionate than all three of my brothers combined. I’d been shafted a few times, and it hardened me over the years, but I still had a heart. Not something my brothers could say easily. There was still a good part of my father in me. Unblinking in the face of death or torture, but I had more of my mother than my brothers.
My younger sister and I seemed to take after her more. Bronya, though, was back in Moscow. She married one of our rival Russian Bratva and brought them under the fold of the Baranov Bratva. It turned out that she loved Vladimir. Our father couldn’t have let her marry the man if she didn’t, even if it was for our benefit. He had a soft spot for Bronya and her compassionate heart. With me, the compassion needed to be beaten out of me.
“Marek…”
I brushed my sister’s cheek with my hand. “We will see. Juri won’t put the family at risk, you know that.”
She nodded and backed away from my desk. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
Giving her a quick salute, I watched as she left my office. Getting up, I laid down on the couch that was against the wall of my office. Closing my eyes for a moment, I figured I’d get an hour of sleep before the entire house woke up at five.
* * *
“Marek!”
I jolted up from the couch, Juri yelling at me from my door. Blinking away the haze from sleep, I glanced at my watch. It was after six. Cursing, I swung my legs to the floor and rubbed my face a couple times.
“When the hell did you get in?”
I groaned. “Four.”
It had been a while since I felt this old. My body ached, my muscles felt strained, and my hands hurt.
“What are you, twenty-one? What the hell? Lev said you were at the pits!”
Shrugging, I stood up and stretched. I sounded like a damn chip bag. All my joints and bones seemed to crack at the same time. Juri was sneering at me, but he held back, telling me I was an old man. Probably because I could fire back at him for being the eldest.
“I needed to let off some steam. It was that or start shooting people.” I cracked my neck twice. “And there weren’t enough people grouped up to make it feel satisfying. Though…if I knew where Paulo was…” The thought thrilled me to wipe that asshat off the planet.
Juri clicked his tongue. “Jesus, Marek, what’s gotten into you?”
Shrugging, I walked back to my desk and looked at my phone. Seventeen emails, four text messages, eight phone calls, and a ton of notifications from the news channel I followed. Skimming it, I saw nothing major, and I turned my attention back to Juri.
“What is the plan, Vor?”
He rolled his eyes, hating when I used his title. “We need to talk about the Italian zajchik.”
Bunny would not be the word I would describe Rosaria, but I didn’t correct my brother. He probably hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t looked her in the eye as she told him her worth was nothing. I had my own scars, but they weren’t nearly as bad. Yes, they were from my father too, but I’d taken them because I believed in what I felt was right. He didn’t, and I paid the price. A price I was always willing to pay. That was many, many years ago now.
“Did you want to bring Lev and Kazmer in here, or shall we meet in your office?”
“Mine. I want this official.”
Nodding, I slipped into the restroom quickly, spraying on both cologne and deodorant before washing my face and trying to look like I didn’t belong six feet under. Walking out, Juri already left and most likely was in his office. Closing my office door, I headed up the stair to the large office that was for the Vor.
Lev was already in there, his head buried deep in a laptop and I’m sure it felt good since he had been elbows deep in baby shit for two weeks. His zhena, Sheena, had a c-section and was recovering from the surgery. Meaning he was on baby duty. Apparently, she was feeling better now, and he could sneak away every now and again. She was the reason we had such good ties with the Irish.
I plopped down on the large lounge chair in the far corner. Leaning back, I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes.
Chapter 6
.
“Wake up, Marek. I’m not that late.” Kazmer walked in, closing the door behind him.
Shaking my head, I opened my eyes to watch him sit down on the loveseat on the other side of the room. Of course, Juri was sitting behind his desk, his fingers laced together while his elbows rested on the dark mahogany.
“So right now, we have an Italian princess in our guest bedroom.”
I amended his statement. “An unwanted Italian princess.”
Kazmer snorted. “A dead princess.”
Juri didn’t acknowledge either of us. “I will not have a war with the Italians. The Spaniards are up our butt and from what I understand, they have sided with the Italians. Our mutual understanding with the Colombians isn’t enough to hold them to their word. Not until Damian and Ramona are officially wed.”
We all hummed in agreement.
Lev looked up from his computer. “So, we take an unmarked vehicle, toss her off into the Italian’s territory and let them handle their princess.”
“They will kill her.” Kazmer was looking at me when he said it.
Juri also was watching me. “You don’t agree, Brat?”
My lips pursed in a thin line. “It’s not that I don’t agree. Same as you, I don’t want a war with the Italians. Not yet, anyway. But giving that svoloch what he wants just doesn’t sit well with me.”
Lev chuckled. “Well, that’s true. He’s a bastard and handing her over seems like a wasted opportunity. But again, if we want to avoid a war…”
This is where I’d been running around in my head all last night. There was no actual solution to this issue. Everything ended in her death or war with the Italians. I’d been thinking so hard about it, I’d dreamt of her. Her black eyes piercing into me. Able to see me, read me, tear me down when all I could see back was nothing. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Unless…”
I perked up at Juri’s voice as he leaned back in his chair. Bringing up his foot to rest on his other knee, he rubbed his beard with his other hand. His wife loved it, but it was a kept secret between brothers that he hated having any facial hair. Something we were surprised that his wife forced him to do. She was a firestorm, and I had enjoyed watching her break him down to his knees when he first got married.
You could see the wheels turning in his head. Juri would play out every angle, every scenario he could think of, as he decided whether it was worthy to voice. After a few minutes, his eyes settled back on me.
“Are you sure you want to save the zajchik?”
He knew it was me that wanted to save her. My brothers didn’t mind handing her off. They hadn’t seen the broken little girl on the floor of the cell. They hadn’t heard the hollowness of her words when she appraised herself. Looking at them now, they also didn’t feel the emptiness that was in her eyes.
Yes, I wanted to save her. Not just from her father, but from the shadows that clung to her. I was a fixer. It was what I did best; both in the bratva and in my personal life. Broken people were my specialty, where my compassion reigned above all else. It didn’t help that she reminded me of Natasha and that I failed her, just like I failed Aleksei.
“If it does not endanger the family.”
As much as I wanted to help her, I told Kamilia the truth last night. I would not put our family in danger. I’d done enough by bringing her into our home.
“You could marry her.”
The air sucked out of the entire room. Lev looked up from his computer, his mouth hanging open. Kazmer also had a similar look, but he had a hint of disgust behind it.
“She’s nineteen. Marek is turning forty next year. A twenty-year difference? Juri, that’s insane. You can’t be serious.”
Juri shrugged. “It’s not the first. I mean Fernando was seventy when he married that thirty-year-old.”
Lev barked out a laugh. “A gold-digging bitch is what she was.”
“Right, but we know this princess is not. Not only would it save her life, but a marriage would then tie us to the Italians. It would be a slap in the face to Carlo. Suddenly, there would be a tie to us that the other families would acknowledge by blood. While he might not agree and want to kill his daughter, but the other families wouldn’t allow it. Especially if she married into our family.”
Juri wasn’t wrong. It was an actual opportunity to stick it to the svoloch while taking advantage of the situation and forcing the Italians to their knees. On their knees before us was what we had wanted since before our father’s time.
Out of all my siblings, I was the only one unmarried and had no desire to get married or have kids. I worked for my family and for our companies. Long ago, I loved a woman, but she broke my heart, and I had a hard time recovering. By the time I had moved on and the pain was nothing but a scar on my heart, I was too set in my ways to think about opening myself up to someone else. There was never a time I needed to marry, either for me or for the bratva. So, I didn’t. I was also twenty years her senior. She was young and had her whole life…
My thought process stalled, seeing her eyes in my mind again. She didn’t, though. The moment she left this house, she was dead. Hell, she could be dead inside of this house as well. We could just as easily dump her dead as we could alive.
Her youth had been taken from her already. Kamilia had said she had three abortions already. A family that not only didn’t protect her but caused the most damage was sickening to think about. There was nothing left of her except maybe the singular thought of putting a bullet between her father’s eyes. Rosaria had nothing and no one. Marrying me offered her protection and a safe place if she ever believed I wouldn’t hurt her. It also helped that her father would be livid at the connection with us.
“You can’t seriously be thinking about this, Marek. Look, I don’t mean to call you a pervert but if you want someone young, we can get someone from the clubs…” Lev was looking at me half-disbelief and half-shock.
“Would you let me speak with her first, Vor?” I reverted to acknowledging Juri as our head of family.
Not for me, but for the sake of my brothers. If Juri voiced his opinion, it meant that he thought this might benefit our family. I had my own reservations, ones that involved me never being able to love her and feeling as though I would trap her. But if I spoke to her, asked her opinion, I would feel better about it.
Juri nodded. “You have until the end of the day. If you do not come to a conclusion, then we will decide whether we dump her alive or dead in a ditch between our territories.”
Getting up, I could hear my brothers arguing with Juri about the situation, but I didn’t listen to them. They had a harder time understanding that as Vor, we swore our fealty to him. Swore him as our leader and our head. We were family and brothers by blood, but Juri would always be above us.
He could always demand us to take a knee and we would have to bend. Arguing with him was a waste of time and one I didn’t intend to do. If he had ordered me to marry her right there, I would have said yes without a second thought. While this could benefit us, it wasn’t enough in Juri’s mind that it was a definite yes. Which allowed me some wiggle room to speak to Rosaria.
Kamilia was sitting with her when I walked in. They spoke quietly, but it sounded like they were talking about insignificant things like fashion or magazines or something. My sister stood and Rosaria caught my eye. Her face looked better. Less swollen and both her eyes now were open. It still was seriously discolored, but I didn’t feel like wincing every time I looked at her face.
I thought maybe some time talking about dumb girl stuff would have brought some sort of light back into her eyes, but it hadn’t. They were as dull, emotionless, and hollow as they had been. It was a damn mirror of my dream.
“I need to speak with Miss Bernardi. Alone.” I added the last word when my sister opened her mouth. She was too easy to read.
Huffing, she brushed her hand over Rosario’s leg before glaring at me as she walked out. The door slammed shut, and I shook my head.
Chapter 7
.
“I would request you don’t call me Miss Bernardi. It feels more like a slur than anything.”
I gave her a quick nod before walking to the far wall, where the windows looked out over the front lawn. It was quiet, and the morning was clear. It was one of my favorite views outside of my own on the third floor, overlooking the back gardens.
“So, your brother decided whether to kill me or let my father do it himself.”
Turning, I looked back at this little bird. Her wings cut from birth, caged in a windowless room. “A third option has been presented by my brother.”
“Juri Baranov? Your head?”
I nodded. She waited patiently, her eyes defaulting to watching my every move as I tried to sort out my thoughts. I could imagine her outrage when I explained. Her face twisting in disgust, much like my brothers. The nail in the coffin would probably be her wanting to choose death over marrying me.
“What do you know of my family?” I figured I would put it off as long as I could.
Rosaria seemed to catch what I was doing, but she answered my question. “Ivano Baranov was the previous head of the Baranov until he died seventeen years ago of health complications. He had six children. Juri Baranov, forty-seven, who is the current head. He is married to Felicity Baranov, and they have three children. Next is Kamilia Petrov, forty-six, married into the Petrov Bratva but he is the second son, and he moved from Russian to New York. No children. She is one of the most elite doctors in the world, but her bedside manner is something to be desired.”
I snorted and sat down on the couch that was near the windows. “I can agree with you on that.”
“Next is Kazmer Baranov, forty-four, married to Sachi Baranov, who was previously rumored to be connected to the yakuza by blood, but nothing is confirmed. They have two children. Lev Baranov, forty-three, married to Sheena Baranov, who was the daughter of the previous head of the Irish mafia. They currently have five children, and congratulations, I guess, is in order since twins were born.”
Her information was impressive. It was like she was reading a file on us. All facts, not emotions. Also, no back story. She paused for a moment before her eyes wandered to the window.
“Marek Baranov, thirty-nine, never married and no children. Last, Bronya Petrov, thirty-seven, married Vladimir Petrov, part of the Petrov sect of the Russian Bratva. They have one child on the way.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Your sister is pregnant?” Her reply came as a question, cocking her head slightly to the side.
I grumbled. “Well, she didn’t fucking tell us.”
“Sorry? Congratulations on being an uncle again?”
I nodded, rubbing my chin. Bronya was going to get it after this. I’d tell my sister-in-laws and let them attack her. The fact that Rosaria knew meant that she had some updated information, at least within the past few months. Her father was keeping a close eye on us even when he wasn’t attacking. Juri would want to know.
“What else do you know? What do you know of our Bratva?”
There was a moment of silent contemplation from her before she answered. “You are enemies of my father. Your father and my father butted heads on most, if not all, issues. It came to a head when your father’s cousin, Alena, died. Your father blamed my father, and any chance of peace was destroyed.”
“Did your father kill her?”
Her mouth dipped in a frown. “Yes and no. Do I believe my father was the reason she died? Yes, absolutely. Did he kill her himself? No. Your cousin was more of a mother to me than my own. But one day, she was hanging from the ceiling in our family room when some of us kids came home from school.”
My eyes widened. We had never been told how our cousin died. She was right about saying that our father refused to think that anyone other than Carlo was responsible for her death.
“What else?”
There was now something specific I was wondering. Trying to lay the groundwork for this option.
“From what I’ve heard, your Bratva is fair. Your men respect their leadership. There is a level of fear but not cruelty. While you all, well, all your siblings married into families that would secure the future of the Bratva, it wasn’t forced. But agreed upon by all parties.”
Nodding, this is what I wanted her to get at.
Rosaria continued. “You pride your connection to your family above all else. Both blood and non-blood. Is there a reason you’re asking me this? I can better tell you what I know if there is a more concise question.”
I wondered if that was the frustration I was hearing in her voice. “Yes, there is a reason, but not what you think.” Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and laced my fingers together. “My brother advised that there is a way you could live and not go back to your father.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Even if I ran, he would find me. Plus, he would trace me back to who helped…”
Shaking my head, I held her gaze. “We would get married.”
She blinked once, twice, and then a third time. I waited as her eyes shifted slightly, taking in the information and processing it.
“We…would marry.” She repeated back to me, and I nodded.
Her frown stayed on her face. “You have never married. There must be a reason for that.”
Sighing, I closed my eyes for a moment. “Few people know the entirety of what happened.” I felt myself going back in time, remembering the pain that had once sent me spiraling out of control.
“Our family grew up together with other bratva, mafia, and cartel families. Many of the leaders now were once childhood friends that we raced around with under the tables in ballrooms. Stealing drinks of champagne while ignoring our parents.” The memories were happy even within the pain and volatile time that was my childhood. “Specifically, one girl grew up as my best friend; Maria Ramirez.”
“The Ramirez Cartel?”
I nodded. “Maria was two years older than me, but we were attached to the hip. When I was twelve, I knew I was in love with her. I protected her, lavished upon her, spoiled her every chance I got. Originally, our fathers set up so that Juri would be betrothed to her. But my father advised hers that I was head over heels. They agreed that she and I would marry.
As we grew up, I continued my passion for lavishing upon her. Taking her out, showing her off as my betrothed. However, the young girl I’d grown up attached to changed when she hit sixteen. She garnered men’s attention, not just mine, and Maria lived for it. She was seen out with many men, expensive gifts finding their way to her as she flaunted her body.”
My eyes never lifted from the ground. “I continued to love her. Knowing that no matter what, these men were flings, nothing more. I was to be her forever, and she was mine. However, when I turned eighteen, we officially were engaged. For the first time, I saw something in her eyes. Not hatred, but resentment. The following months, I killed five men. All of which I’d confirmed touched her. Touched my fiancé.” It still slightly stung to tell.
“I pleaded with her to stop, that she was to be faithful, just as I had always been. She scoffed at me. It was the first time she put me down for being the last in line with my family. Our engagement was to be two years and when I turned nineteen, I found out on my birthday she had joined an orgy in France. That was when I took it to her father.”
Chapter 8
.
My eyes looked up to Rosaria, but she was caught in my story. She was leaning forward, her hands clenching the blankets. Looking back down, I continued.
“Her father basically locked her down in their residence until our wedding, which was six months away. Two months later, she showed up on this very doorstep covered in bruises and crying. She begged me to let me stay, that her father’s men were brutal, and she didn’t feel safe.”
My eyes caught Rosaria’s. “Unlike you, she was lying. I wasn’t the idiot that she thought I was. I loved her, but the lovesick puppy ended the first time I found out she cheated on me. She was having an affair with the son of her father’s second in command; Ernesto Gutierrez.”
“The infamous sniper? The rumor is he’s cruel, corrupt and dangerous. He’s never missed, but he’s willing to sell his loyalty for a high enough price.”
“At the time, it was his father who had the reputation as the best sniper and gunman in the cartel. Though, Ernesto already earned the titles of cruel and brutal. The day she came to me was the day she found out she was with child, his child. Throughout her weeks that she stayed, she tried to get me to have sex with her. Hiding her pregnancy and symptoms while she did it.”
Rosaria’s fists clenched more. “She was trying to make it so that it would be called into question that it was your child.”
I nodded solemnly. “Yes, she was. But I had already known. Known that the bruises and marks on her body were from Ernesto and her fucking before she came over. After two months, she started to show. A slight bump that could be hidden under clothes, but she was still trying to get me to have sex. She wasn’t noticing that her body was changing outwardly as well.”
“So, I called a meeting. My father, my brothers, her father, her brothers, Ernesto, and his father. I laid out the information, all the facts, before them. I’d even had the child she carried tested for DNA matching me, which came out negative. A timeline and photos were provided. She tried to use me to save her from Ernesto, but I wouldn’t raise another man’s child.”
The room got quiet for a moment. “What happened after?” Rosaria’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Ernesto claimed what was rightfully his. Everyone was angry at her, at how she had thrown away the agreement and the peace that our marriage would have secured. She begged her father not to let her go, but she was already Ernesto’s. They married that weekend. After that, no one saw her again. My father worked with her father and Ernesto over the years, but she was never mentioned again, though I know he now has eight children. Whether all by the same mother, I don’t know, but I’d wager not.”
“And you?”
My eyes snapped up to hers. Over the years, I’d heard apologies. I’d heard ‘suck it up,’ or ‘it was a long time ago, move on.’ Never had someone asked how I was after everything blew up. I kept my eyes locked with hers. Her brown hair falling over her shoulders and cupping her face, still lost in my story.
“I spiraled. I loved her, even after all she had done. Losing her was like a piece of my heart was torn out, or my soul cracked. My father was torn. He was happy I’d finally become the uncaring and perfect killer he’d always wanted me to be. He cared about his children and about their happiness.”
I continued after a moment. “My siblings had secured all that was needed with their marriages. My younger sister and I had a bit more freedom to marry for love. Only, I never found love. I never wanted to feel my heart being torn again. Eventually, when the pain finally dulled and I could look back to see how shitty she was, it was too late. I was so set in my ways, business focused, married to my job and free to help my brothers whenever they called, I stopped looking. My father never asked, my brothers never asked, and so I just never did.”
“Then why agree to a marriage now? Especially to me.”
My head cocked to the side. I didn’t like how she worded the last part. “It’s not that I agree. I asked my Vor if I could speak with you regarding the option. It would benefit the both of us. You would come under our protection, my protection. You would have a home free of abuse and free from your family. What my family gets out of it is finally sticking it Carlo and making him bend the knee now that marriage would connect us. It would be a spit in his face and halt any ideas he had to attack us.”
Shaking her head, she looked down. “My father doesn’t care about me. He wouldn’t give a shit if I was married to you or not. If it was one of my sisters maybe…” Rosaria trailed off.
“It would matter. Maybe not specifically between you and him, but how the other families view us.” I could see the wheels turning in her head again.
Her hand came up, allowing her chin to rest on it. “To my family, blood means next to nothing other than being sold to the highest bidder. But to the other families in the cartels and mafias, it means more. If he were to turn against me…”
“…no one would back him. Right. He would be out on his own and on his own, your father would be destroyed.”
She was quiet for a spell. Much like my brother, as she processed the idea. I was surprised my age hadn’t come up. Though, her saying her father sold her sisters to the highest bidder, our age gap might be not the worst she’s come across.
“But what do you get out of it?”
I’d been studying how her face moved as she took in and processed the details that I didn’t register her question. “What?”
“What do you get out of this arrangement?”
Sitting up from my lean, my back was straight as a rod. “I’m…not sure what you mean?”
She almost scoffed. “Yes, your brothers, your bratva, get to stick it to my father. But I wouldn’t be marrying your family. I would marry you. You are saying you will provide me a home and protection, but what do you get out of this deal?”
Her question made all the thoughts in my head disintegrate. Again, Rosaria was asking about me. Something very few people asked.
“I…”
I couldn’t voice anything because I knew if I said that, I would agree because it benefited my brother. She would just ask again. Suddenly, the sheets were thrown off the bed and Rosaria got up. I was up, ready to push her back into bed, knowing that at least one of her ankles was broken. In the same motion as getting up, the oversized shirt she was wearing came off, and I froze mid-stride.
I’d seen some of the fresh damage that had been done, but in the morning light that was streaming through the windows, I could take her in fully. She was standing before me now, completely naked, outside of a pair of underwear and a few bandages still secured on her skin. It was horrifying. I’d tortured enough people to know that all the scars littering her body would have broken even the strongest man, broken me.
There was a large red mark that came up over the right side of her neck, over her shoulder and kissed her collarbone. However, the rest of the front of her body was covering in scars that ranged from small, thin and white to a gnarled one that ran from just below her left breast down across to her right hip. There wasn’t a piece of skin that you could see larger than a quarter that didn’t have a scar.
Then she turned around. The back of her was far worse. The burn went down her back, but only to about her shoulder blade. But even that mark had scars all over it. Whip marks, blade cuts, multiple bullet holes. Hell, you could see where her skin had been pulled, and she was hung by it. I wanted to throw up. Not from how it looked but the sheer about of pain she had been through. The fact that she was only nineteen blared in the back of my head. All this, in such a short number of years.
“Marek, you would be married to me. A…monstrosity of scars. Broken, beaten, battered, abused. Fuck, I’ve got scars in my vagina, for Christ’s sake. If you’re not getting anything out of it other than you’re doing your family a favor…” She pulled her shirt back down and turned around. “…don’t bother.”
If your looking for more Twisting Fate, you can read the rest of Marek and Rosaria’s story here:
Paperback (coming soon)