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He doesn’t say anything else, just returns to his job. I head toward the office, and softly rap on the door. A soft voice answers me, “Come in.”
When I open the door, I come face to face with Amber. Her eyes are rimmed with redness and she’s obviously been crying. I close the space between us and do the only thing I know to do. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and tightly hug her. Suri always gives me a hug when everything just becomes too much, and it always helps me. I’m hoping that I can do the same for Amber.
When I first embrace her, her body goes stiff like she isn’t sure what to do, but after a few minutes, she relaxes. I let go and step back, gently asking her, “What’s going on, Amber?”
Sniffling, she wipes her eyes and nose with the back of her hand as she answers. “Someone from my past has shown up.”
“Who?” I immediately ask, and then cringe. I need to be more careful and not push.
I don’t know the whole story, but I know enough about her past to know this must be a lot for her.
“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to?”
With my words, I watch her eyes harden and her walls go back up. But it doesn’t bother me, we all have things that we guard harder than others. Waving me off, she answers, “No.”
“Well, I’m here if you need me. Anytime.”
Her face softens a tiny bit. “Thank you, Ella. Maybe someday. But enough about me, tell me what happened at the party.”
I tell her all about what I saw at the party. Mia going behind the weird locked door, the auction, my step-mother sitting with a strange man, and then the pictures that I found in Mia’s room when I was snooping.
“That’s a lot, Ella. I’m not even sure how to process all of that? But if you need any help, you let me know,” she demands.
After giving me her orders, she grins. “Did you at least get to have some fun?”
Smiling so big that my cheeks start to hurt, I tell her, “Yes. I met the sexiest man alive.”
Then I tell her everything about my night with the mystery man. For once, I allow myself to bask in my new friendship and have girl talk. For the first time in a long time, I allow myself to hope that one day I will be free and able to live life like a normal twenty-four year old woman. But that’s the thing about hope, it can be easily squashed by the likes of reality.
eleven
Mikhail
In the basement of my club, I stand in front of a man I’d considered a friend but have come to find out is a traitor. I interrogated him this week and discovered he’s the leak. After the tip from Zeev, my sole focus became finding the rat or rats as quickly as possible. Every organization apparently has a rat supplying information to another mafia. Somehow, these rats thought they could infiltrate the Bratva and get away with it. Well, now everyone will know that no one gets away with betraying us.
Squeezing my hands by my side, I look down at the pathetic man sitting in front of me. And I snarl. This fucker thought he could get away with it. Grabbing his sweat and blood soaked hair, I pull back his head so I can look him straight in the eyes. “How could you, Ivan? What did they offer you?”
He struggles with me, trying to get me to release my hands from his hair, but I tighten my hold. Blood drips down his face, his eyes swollen from where I’d already punched him. His cheek is swelling and turning purple already. “Pppplease, Mikhail. They threatened my family,” he stutters out between harsh breaths.
“I don’t care,” I roar. “You should’ve trusted in the Bratva. We would have protected you and your family.”
I pull my arm back and punch him in the face again, releasing his hair as his head snaps back. I lean down, sneering at him. “But they offered you money too, right Ivan? You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You are fucking pathetic.”
“Sergei, knife.” I hold my hand out, and without question, he puts it in my hand.
I keep my eyes on Ivan, pop it open, then kneel down so that I’m eye level with him. Men like him feel invincible, but when he sees the look on my face, the fear sets in. That just might get him to release all the information that he knows.
“Now, Ivan, we know you’re the rat, but I need you to tell me the names of the others and who you work for.” Patting his cheek, I whisper, “We both know that you aren’t leaving this room, Ivan, but what you tell me will decide if you die as a traitor or as a friend. Fast or slow…you choose.”
He looks at me long and hard, probably trying to figure out what his best plan of action. I don’t really care what he chooses. Either way, he dies and he dies at my hand. I just need the information and the more the better.
“Time is ticking, Ivan. Don’t make me choose for you,” I say as I rub my knife against his cheek.
This is where I feel like my true self, unleashing the violence that always strums underneath my skin. The only time I’ve ever felt calm was when I was with my baby girl the other night. Tired of waiting, I stab Ivan in the hand. “Ivan, tell me who you’re working for?” I scream.
“A group within the G…German mafia,” he answers.
“A name, Ivan. Who approached you?”
