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I’m such a fucking disaster. That’s the only thought I can muster as I sit in the sterile hospital room, holding onto Nana’s bony, fragile hand. How did I let things get this bad?
Nana’s breathing is labored, each wheeze a dagger to my heart. I can see the pain etched on her face, and it’s tearing me apart. The beeping monitors and humming machines do nothing to drown out the sound of her struggling breaths, each one reminding me of everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve lost.
When Mommy and Daddy died right after my seventh birthday, Nilo was only fourteen, and Nana was the one taking care of us. She was the glue that held our family together, even as her own health started to decline. And now…
Dr. Peguero enters the room, his warm brown eyes filled with concern and sympathy. His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly combed, and the lines on his face speak to years of caring for others. He’s been our family doctor since I was a child, and he’s been there for us through all of our ups and downs.
“Sophia,” he says gently, “Your nana is fighting, but her condition is serious.”
The weight of responsibility presses down on me, suffocating and relentless. This is my fault, isn’t it? If only I had been more careful, more attentive…maybe things would be different.
“Is she going to be okay?” I choke out, unable to look him in the eye. He hesitates for a moment, choosing his words carefully.
“It’s difficult to say, Sophia. With her existing heart disease, pneumonia is a dangerous complication. We’re doing everything we can to help her.”
My insides twist, each word like a vise tightening around my chest. I want to scream, to lash out, but I know that won’t help Nana. Instead, I squeeze her hand, feeling the frailty of her bones beneath my fingers. I can’t lose her too. I just can’t.
Dr. Peguero places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Sophia, you’ve always been strong for your family. You’ve been there for your nana and Nilo, even when things seemed impossible. Don’t give up hope.”
Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I won’t, Dr. Peguero. I promise.”
I just don’t know how now.
He looks down, his expression heavy, and I can tell he’s wrestling with something. Finally, he says, “Sophia, I don’t want to add to your burden, but we need to discuss the cost of your grandmother’s treatment. The medications and hospital bills are going to be substantial.”
My heart sinks, and my stomach churns. “I… I’ll find a way,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.”
Dr. Peguero nods, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know you will, Sophia. You’ve always found a way to take care of your family. How’s Nilo doing?”
I grit my teeth, forcing a smile. “He’s…getting better, Dr. Peguero. Taking it one day at a time.” I hate lying to him, but I can’t bring myself to say that my brother is a fucking prisoner of the Russian Bratva, and it’s all my fault.
No, it’s not. It’s his own fault, dammit!
The thought brings little comfort, though. Sitting there, clutching Nana’s hand, a chilling thought creeps into my mind, making my chest feel tight.
What if I never see Nilo again?
The thought has me shuddering, leaving me cold and empty.
“I’ve fucked up,” I whisper, despair settling in. This situation may be Nilo’s fault, but if he dies, it’ll be mine.
Chapter 13
Luka
THE AIR in the room is thick with tension, the stench of sweat and fear transporting me back to the first time I was exposed to the true meaning of Bratva business. I was just sixteen years old when my father led me down to his torture chamber for the first time.
“Son, this is your birthright,” he’d said, his voice cold and steady as he tied the trembling man to a chair. “One day, you’ll take over the business. Violence is an unavoidable part of our world.”
I watched, wide-eyed and silent, as the man’s pleas for mercy filled the room. My father didn’t waver; his face expressionless, his movements methodical. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the grisly scene unfolding before me.
“Dad, please,” I remember whispering. “Isn’t there another way?”
My father had turned to me, his eyes glinting with a hardness I’d never seen before. “This is how we maintain order, son,” he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “This is how we protect our family and our business.”
Now, as I stand in the room, I’m no longer the naïve, cowardly teenager I once was. In this shadowy underworld, I’ve become a monster fueled by a vicious and cruel streak that only grows more savage with each passing day. My life is a never-fucking-ending parade of treachery and bloodshed, and I revel in it. The screams and suffering of others are music to my ears, bringing me a perverse satisfaction that nothing else can. I’ve become a master of malice, my heart as cold and unforgiving as the steel of my blade.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
