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1
Mila
They come for me in the dark. Unseen hands wrapping blankets around me as I wake screaming from one nightmare straight into another.
I was dreaming about my mother again. About the night she died. I was with her in the dream. She was holding my hand, telling me she loved me, her hand only slipping from mine when the bullet slammed into her skull.
Behind her emerged the demon in the night, Alexsei Volkov. His red flaming eyes burned like Satan’s, giant hand wrapped around the gun, mouth open, laughing at my pain. “You’re next,” he said, swinging the gun my way.
He went to pull the trigger and I screamed myself awake only to find I can’t move.
“Terry? What are you doing?”
My first thought is that it’s my ex. He ghosted me last week, disappeared overnight without so much as a note.
Is he back? Tying me up in my own blankets? I knew I should have changed the locks when he went.
I can handle this, I tell myself. I don’t need help. All I need is to get one hand free and go for his eyes, do enough damage to make him back off and never return.
Son of a bitch knew I wasn’t ready for sex. I’ve still got the bruises on my neck from him trying to get me to change my mind. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back that night. Why would he? I never did before.
This time, when he tried to make me, something snapped inside.
I clawed at his face, leaving him bleeding and cursing my name. He went to sleep on the sofa. Was gone by morning along with all his stuff. Like he was never here.
I’ve been alone since then. Coping just fine. Who needs men in their life, anyway? Single life suits me. No fighting over the blankets, no toothpaste left in the sink, not even the toilet seat up anymore. Just me, and peace.
Well, until tonight.
I can make out at least two silhouettes and is that a third in the doorway? All dressed in black, ski masks covering their faces. The one by the door is tapping his foot and scratching his ear. I recognize that gesture even though it’s been years since I last saw it. “Pietro?”
“Got it in one, Toots.” He pulls the mask from his face and gives me a wink. “How’ve you been?”
“What are you doing here? Last I saw, you were a kitchen grunt.”
“I’m a capo now. Get all the juicy jobs.”
My fear turns to anger. “Who’s this with you? Ken and Larry? Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”
The one nearest my head yanks his mask back to reveal a zit covered face. “You know I always hated it when you call me Tweedledum.”
“And I hate assholes breaking into my apartment in the middle of the fucking night.” The realization of what’s happening hits me. “My father,” I say out loud, groaning with resignation. “He sent you, didn’t he? Shit, did he scare Terry off? Is that what this is about? The big talk?”
“You always were a smart cookie,” Pietro replies, sinking into my reading chair, sliding the bookmark out of my book and tossing it onto the floor. “You going to come quietly like a good girl?”
“Since when was I a good girl?”
“You used to behave. Before you ran off and got yourself a guy.”
“So, I can’t even have a boyfriend, is that it?”
“The Don’s got his reasons for making sure you stay a virgin, let’s put it that way. Found out about old Tel and had a word in his ear. You know you can’t have boyfriends.”
“You mean my father has an obsession with my purity. You know that’s weird, don’t you? Caring about me having sex when I’m twenty-one, and haven’t spoken to him for five years.”
“Enough yakking. Get moving.”
“Can I at least get dressed?”
