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“Then isn’t that the kind of person you should be holding onto as hard as physically possible?”
I hate how much sense she makes, but what she doesn’t understand is that I don’t have the capacity for anything other than violence and pain.
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“Why not?”
“There’s not enough time in this lifetime to explain that.” My childhood is the reason for my closed off heart and I know that without facing it I’ll never heal, but I don’t want to face it or heal. Instead, my heart gets blacker with more time that passes like decaying wood in an ancient forest. And yet it feels like since I got involved with Camilla she has slowed the rot, but there’s no repairing decay. Once something’s decayed, it gone forever.
“Try me.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t go there.”
“It’s your childhood, isn’t it?”
“My childhood is hazy at best.”
“From what age?”
“Anything before fourteen years old is pretty blank.” I know it’s blank because I’ve blocked it out. It would take some effort to unlock those memories, but I won’t. Nothing good can come from unlocking the closet that holds my skeletons.
I’ll drown in the darkness if I do.
“Okay, how about after fourteen?”
I shrug. “I moved to America when I was fourteen.” That’s my cover story, as I don’t mention Toronto, not to anyone other than Oak.
“Who with?”
I bite my tongue as I often try not to think about him. “My older brother, Ivan.”
“And where is Ivan now?”
“Gone.”
She looks a little irritated by my short answer. “Dead?” she confirms.
I nod, hating the way it feels when I think about him.
We were two naïve boys when we arrived in Toronto, thinking we could find jobs and make a life for ourselves away from the darkness of our childhood in Russia. We had plenty of money as we stole it from our father before leaving, knowing we’d be in danger if he ever tracked us down. Ivan was eighteen years old and my official guardian on our visa, but it wasn’t long before he got involved with some bad guys.
We both joined the Sidorov Bratva, but because of my age, I wasn’t put into as much danger as he was.
He was shot dead on a simple drug drop because the police caught wind and busted it, and stupidly he tried to kill a cop.
Even though he’d never shot a fucking gun, the idiot.
After that fated night, I made it my mission to train in every combat to ensure I could never be hurt.
I was to be bulletproof.
And that’s when I climbed the ranks and became an enforcer, using the darkness and hurt to strive harder and block out all the bad.
“Can you tell me what happened to him?”
I am going to kill Oak for forcing me into this. After two years of fucking therapy with Jane before, I managed to avoid talking about my family or childhood, and suddenly I’m spilling my guts.
What the fuck is that all about?
