“She’d brush my hair. A hundred strokes every night before bed. She said it would make it strong and healthy. That when I was older, I might have hair like hers. Dark, thick, and gorgeous.” Her laugh is bitter and short. “Instead, I got this. My pale blond hair lightened, turning white as snow, like all the color eventually drained out.”
The fire pops out in the living room as a log settles against the grate.
I wonder if the trauma she endured contributed to that notable change.
I press my lips to the top of her head. “You don’t have to?—”
“She told me bedtime stories about a princess in a tower.” Her breath puffs against my neck. “But not the kind who needs rescuing. The kind who’s safe, protected, and loved. The princess had everything she could ever want. And every night, that princess would go to sleep knowing she was safe. That nothing could hurt her. That she’d wake up and everything would still be perfect.”
That does sound like an ideal childhood. I had the same wishes for my siblings, back when I thought dreams mattered.
Nika goes on. “She gave me certainty. That feeling of being wrapped in something so solid that nothing bad could ever get through. I was nine years old, and I actually believed that my life would always be like that. I’d always be safe. Nothing couldtouch me as long as I had her.” Her smile is crooked, shattered, and my heart aches for the little girl she once was and the wounded woman she is now.
Because that’s what all kids should have. That’s what Roman worked so hard for and what he wasn’t able to give her. In the end, that failure broke him.
How can she not see that?
“Isla de Huesos was supposed to be a vacation. A meeting of families. Roman had to deal with business, but we could enjoy ourselves with the others who were going to be there. We went and bought new swimsuits because we were going to swim in the ocean. I’d meet other children. It would be beautiful.” The joy that rose with each sentence cuts off abruptly as her eyes go flat.
“That’s not how things happened, though.” Everyone knows the general details, even if Roman rarely discusses the events that transpired on Chaos Island that night. Hell, the whole world knows about the combination of disasters that struck the place.
She shakes her head. “The storm came fast. One moment the sky was clear, the next it was black clouds. We had to leave the beach. I went with my nanny while Mom tried to find Roman. She wanted him to know where we were. Then the power went out. Everything went dark except for the lightning that flashed. My nanny…” She stops, frowning. “I was so young…I can’t even remember her name. I just knew Mom said she was my nanny.”
Because she wasn’t the normal nanny. She was an au pair hired for the trip. At home, Nika was raised by aunts, uncles, and cousins, the same way all Kozlov children are. The village that we created together and protect without question.
Now isn’t the time to bother her with that detail, though.
“When the gunshots started outside, the nanny left to check on things. I was so scared, and I waited for what felt like hours.” She swallows hard. “She never came back.”
Her grip on me tightens, and her body goes rigid. Slowly, I thread my fingers through her hair.
No one can lie this convincingly. The emotions in her voice, in her eyes, are too complex. Her body language is too perfect.
This is her truth.
“It was dark, I was scared, and I didn’t know where anyone was. So I wandered away from the nanny’s room to search for Mom. And I found her.”
Her heart hammers against my ribs. Her gaze is distant, far away on a tropical island.
I know what’s coming next.
“I don’t remember exactly how I got there, but I was walking down a path in the dark. Men were running back and forth. Gunshots still rang out in the distance. I’d hide whenever people came. That’s what I was doing when I heard Roman’s voice. I raced through the bushes to reach him, but thankfully, I saw it before revealing myself. Mom was lying on her back, the rain washing away her blood. Dad was leaning over her.”
That matches with what I know happened that night, but Roman never talks about what came next.
I hold my breath as she continues.
“I watched her die.” Nika’s hand shakes on my chest. Not just from fear or pain, but with fury. “While Roman stood over her with blood on his hands. I could hear him talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. The tone scared me, though. As did his expression. His hands on her neck… He was furious. I barely recognized him. He looked like a monster when he ripped my necklace off her throat. Then he started shouting my name.”
Her fingers curl into a fist against my ribs, her nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. I don’t stop her.
“He shouted, ‘Nika! Nika!’ over and over. But it didn’t…sound like he was looking for me. He sounded soangry. He’d killed my mother, and now he was coming for me. So I hid in the bushes. Pressed into the ground and tried not to breathe while Roman sprinted past shrieking my name and my mother’s body just…lay there. Alone. In the rain.”
She’s still staring at nothing, her eyes shifting as if she’s watching her past play out on her bedroom wall. A few heartbeats pass in silence. This is the part no one in the Bratva knows. “What happened next?”
Nika shakes herself and blows out a heavy breath. “Dima found me crying in the bushes. Picked me up, held me against his chest, and shielded me from the sight of Mom’s body even though it was too late. Asked me what I saw. I told him everything. How Roman stole the locket from her. How he screamed for me. Dima had such sad eyes. He said, ‘I’m sorry, little one. Roman is a monster.’ And then he promised he’d help me make sure that monster never hurt anyone again.”
So Dimitri found her, took in a traumatized child, and raised her to hate her father? I already know he’s the one who trained her.
