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I continue down the stairs until I reach the room where I see my old mentor and father figure sitting back in a ragged office chair. He’s smoking Parliaments just like he always did. Another hit to the senses, another ache for a past I’ll never know again.
“Before you say anything, I need you to remember that I would never come here to disrespect you after I left. I need your guidance on something, and my life is in the balance as well as someone I care for deeply,” I say, practically begging him not to kill me on the spot.
He looks me up and down, his eyes narrow and beady as old age has swallowed them deeper into his skull.
“You know I’d never kill you unless you expressly betrayed me. That’s what sets me apart from your masters in the Bratva,” he says with a steadiness that both relieves and terrifies me.
I step all the way in to the room, the dim light of a desk lamp casting eerie shadows over the musty room. “You’re right. That’s why I’m here, because you’re right and I need to know how to get out.”
He laughs, immediately hacking as he chokes on a puff of smoke. “You can’t! You can’t get out of the Bratva, Dominik. The money you were paid when you agreed to work for them was a blood oath. They own you.”
“Then how the hell did you leave? You never told me. I know I refused to listen when you warned me, and now I regret that more than I can tell you,” I reply, my tone getting progressively more panicked as the reality sets in.
“I fucking left Russia! I flew halfway across the world and hid in a tiny neighborhood in New York City where nobody knew me and nobody could recognize me,” he responds, blowing his smoke up towards the ceiling as if there’s a vent for it to escape through. It spreads over the concrete ceiling like a veil, filling the surrounding air.
“So you’ve really never known anyone, not a single person, who has gotten out? What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I ask as my blood runs cold at the prospect of being trapped forever.
“No, not one single soul has ever left the Bratva unscathed. The only ways out are to get killed or to kill yourself, and let me tell you, killing yourself if the better option.”
I knew the situation was going to be difficult, even dire, but the most resilient and determined man I’ve ever known thinks it’s impossible.
“I thought better of you,” I say, my emotions beginning to take over my reasoning.
“Dom, I’d settle down if I were you. I might not be able to help you get out of the Bratva, but you don’t want to burn your bridges with me forever. You know that,” he replies, warning me of the wrath I’ve already known too well.
I don’t know how to respond. I feel let down, but I can’t blame Mirali. He told me for months not to joint the Bratva. They spent months trying to entice me, and their tactics blinded me to the immovable fate that awaited me if I joined them.
He exhales another lungful of smoke. “Listen, I practically raised you. I know how you are, and I know that you’ll still try to find a way out of this. Whatever the situation is, whatever your motivation, you need to let it go. You’re not going anywhere until the day you die. When that day is, that’s your choice.”
I can feel my blood pounding in my ears now, and I don’t know how to redirect my anger and frustration without taking it out on Mirali. I could never hurt him like that, but the rage that’s taking over me needs an outlet.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath before I turn and run back up the stairs.
I slam the door at the top, turning toward the brick wall and kicking it as hard as I can. I must look insane, but there’s nothing else I can do without hurting an innocent person.
Now I need to go back to Mika with no solution, no escape for her. Her fate is sealed, and I’m powerless to stop it.
17
MIKA
Five days.
My period is five days late.
I haven’t missed a period since I was thirteen, when my body was still unaccustomed to the deluge of hormones that had hijacked my system. Back then, I was stupid enough to think that I was carrying the next baby Jesus, or maybe the antichrist. I’d been told by my Russian Orthodox aunt that it was possible, that I had been chosen as the vessel to carry the savior of the world.
She was far more excited than I was, although it all turned out to be nothing.
I’ve tried not to stress myself out over this, knowing that stress itself can delay a period. The last thing I need is more stress on my plate, but I’ve been tossed into a hurricane of bullshit, completely out of my control. There’s no relief from any of it, and none of it serves me in any way.
Without being allowed to leave the house by myself, I’ve had to behave in a completely normal way to keep Dominik from suspecting a problem. It’s been nearly impossible to keep myself calm every second of the day that he’s here.
If I’m pregnant, the father can only be Dominik. I’m getting married so soon that I might be able to play it off as Izet’s, but the thought of allowing him to cum in me solely for the credibility is nauseating. I don’t even want to come within ten feet of him, let alone allow him to touch me at all.
My skin is crawling for answers, but I’ve also noticed a significant increase in my desire for Dominik’s body. At first, I could just occupy my mind with something else to keep myself from feeling anything. Now, I feel a warmth spreading through me whenever I look at him for just a bit too long.
I know he senses it, and the way he looks back at me tells me that he feels the same way. We haven’t had the chance to have sex, or even kiss, since he fucked me on my bed. I’ve been so horny for him since then that I’ve masturbated every morning and night to the memory.
