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RISE
22
IRINA
One Year Later
The room swayed as I moved to stand from the table where Bryan sat comfortably across from me. He looked ridiculous with one of my turquoise coffee mugs clutched tightly in one hand while he scrolled through his phone absently. Watching from the corner of his eye as I pulled the pill bottle from my purse, he raised an eyebrow and I knew I hadn't been effective enough at hiding it.
He grew more and more watchful every day, and I wondered how long I'd have to endure him serving as my bodyguard. I couldn't make it much longer before his curiosity got the better of him and he discovered the truth. Undoubtedly, he was reporting back to Scar, like the man had any right to be concerned in the slightest for my health.
How could it be possible to miss someone you'd never really had?
And yet, from the moment I'd met him, he'd done nothing but show me just how incomplete I was without him.
I moved my purse to the kitchen counter to shield it from prying eyes, discreetly shaking a pill out of the bottle inside into my hand and taking the daily dose of medicine to keep me stable.
"You ever going to tell me what those are?" Bryan asked, setting the phone on the table and moving to stand as I popped the pill into my mouth and shoved the bottle back inside the hidden compartment in my purse.
With a gulp of water, I swallowed it and turned a brittle smile his way. "I'm not really sure what difference it makes. I'm not dying. That's all that matters for you to do your job," I snapped.
"That's not fair and you know it," Bryan returned, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. He'd only been with me full-time for six days, but even I knew he cared more than he should. Considering my father's determination to preside over Tiernan Murphy's trial, there was every possibility that I'd never see the end of the year.
I was the only weakness in my father's armor. The only person remaining who could be used to sway him to change his mind about seeing the man behind bars. The Bellandis may not have been saints, but our city was far safer with them to protect it from harm than it would be under the control of Murphy and his band of miscreants, who stole women and children off the streets to sell to the highest bidder.
I didn't know much about the war between the Bellandis and Murphy, only that Matteo was determined to take Murphy down in a systematic way that left as few civilians harmed as possible. Timing was everything. Reinforcements were everything.
Winningwas everything.
"He cares about you. We all know it," Bryan murmured, coming over to put his hand on my shoulder. I'd been doing so well. Keeping my shit together had been nearly impossible after all Scar had put me through, but I'd done it out of determination to keep going. To help the kids at the center and work with the social workers to ensure each of my kids had a positive home life.
I’d worked my ass off to connect sponsors with the foster homes who needed them, raising money to help pay for things to keep the kids occupied, entertained, and off the streets. I worked constantly, and the sound of my phone vibrating with a new text message on the counter was only one more affirmation that my work came first.
"Did anybody tell him that?" I scoffed, grabbing the phone and unlocking the screen to see a text from my father. Seeing Scar at Indulgence with the Bellandi women a few days prior had nearly triggered a low that threatened to put me in bed for days, and my father could always sense when one of my “moods” was on the horizon.
"Telling Scar that he's capable of feeling emotions is im-possi-mable," Bryan said, making me snort despite the sadness that threatened to overwhelm me. Too often, people shrugged off my problems as being overly sensitive. As if feeling things too strongly, like caring about the world around me, was a crime.
"Im-possi-mable?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him as I set my phone on the table and went to grab two of the mason jars with my chia pudding out of the fridge.
Shrugging, he took one from me and grimaced at it. "My niece says it all the time." My guilt rose, knowing that being my full-time bodyguard meant he was spending zero time with his own family.
All the while risking his life.
"I thought you liked it?" I asked instead of commenting about the niece he talked about daily, crossing my arms over my chest and watching him uncap the lid.
"I do, but a man can only take so much of your healthy food before he goes a little crazy, Iri," Bryan laughed. "I need protein."
"There's protein in chia seeds and in peanut butter," I pointed out, suppressing my smile as I turned to grab a spoon for each of us.
"Smart ass. You know what I mean. I don't know why you're so strict with your diet. It isn't like you need to lose weight." I smiled past the urge to punch him in the throat for treading such perilous waters. A woman's weight, whether she was "too skinny" or "too fat," should never be a topic of conversation for anyone.
Especially not someone with a penis.
"I don't eat healthy to lose weight. Being healthy is important to me," I murmured, scooping a bite into my mouth. Bryan didn't need to know the truth of the fact that eating healthy was about control.
I could control my body. I could make it the healthiest vessel possible. Sometimes, it was enough to convince me that the turmoil inside my head wasn't so bad. Even if it didn't, having a routine without surprises was important for regulating my mood swings.
I'd do just about anything to keep myself from plunging to an extreme low.
My phone buzzed again, the second vibration lasting longer and alerting me to a phone call from my vice president. "Hey, Megan. We're almost out the door," I said, gesturing at Bryan with a wink. I hadn't yet gotten used to having someone else in my space while I got ready in the mornings, and I'd never in my life been late as much as the last week.
"Your father canceled your meeting at nine. The police need him to sign off on a warrant."
"Okay then, I'll stop by the store on my way in and pick up bagels for the kids since I have time before my ten o'clock. Does that work?" Bryan grimaced as he inhaled his breakfast, but I made a mental note to have groceries delivered for him. He would have to make his own meals, but there was no reason he had to live my strict diet just because I needed the stability.
"They'll love you. As always." Megan chuckled as the sound of young kids echoed in the background. The only ones who would be at the center that early on a Monday morning were the real youngsters who needed childcare while their foster parents worked.
We provided for the kids of Chicago, no matter what that might look like.
"When you get here,” she continued, “I'd like to talk to you about—”
Her voice cut off as my front door burst open.
Bryan moved instantly, dropping the mason jar to the floor without preamble. The glass shattered on impact, the shards scattering all over the floor as four men filed into my apartment. With guns held tightly in their hands and aimed in our direction, there were simply too many.
Bryan pulled the gun from his holster where it always stayed and shoved me behind him toward the hallway to the bedroom.
"Stop!" I screamed, stepping around him and putting a hand on his forearm. "Don't hurt him," I begged them, my voice echoing through the room as the man at the front tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'll go. Just don't hurt him."
"Irina," Bryan growled, shoving me back so that he stood in front of me, taking the risk and sheltering me from the greater threat while shards of glass cut into the soles of my feet. But even as panic clung to me, I knew without a doubt there would be no stopping what was to come. Not with the number of men standing between us and the door.
He didn't waste another moment, firing his first shot and taking down one of the men closest to us. "The fire escape. Go!" he yelled. I listened, turning and fleeing down the hall.
The sound of gunfire burst behind me, but I didn't dare stop to turn and watch. Megan's voice shouted over the phone as I closed the bedroom door behind me, turning for the fire escape at the back. My blood-soaked feet slipped on the hardwood floors, refusing to give me traction as I hurried across the room.
The door flung open behind me, the man who'd tilted his head at me stepping into the space. There wasn't a mark on him, nothing to indicate that Bryan was still alive. The blood on the toe of his boot made me swallow back my own saliva and the horror that filled me.
I set my cell phone and pudding on the windowsill, grasping it and desperately trying to get it to unlock and lift to no avail as the man closed the distance between us slowly.
