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My heart stutters as Silvia takes another drink of wine, her hand shaking as she lifts the glass to her lips.
“When I came outside, the man responsible held a knife to my throat. He told me to get in his car and that if I didn’t, he would kill me and Isla.” Tears spill down Silvia’s cheeks, and she brushes them away impatiently as she gives me a sad smile. “I knew the risks of being in a mafia family. Hell, my brother Nico is the don of our family in Chicago. I’ve had my life threatened before, so danger is nothing foreign to me. But Isla… she’s just a baby. She was so scared, and all I could think of was keeping her safe.” Silvia’s words die in a whisper, and my gut wrenches as I witness the depth of her fear.
“Oh, Silvi,” I murmur, wrapping her hand firmly in my own.
It hits me then.Thisis the guilt Efrem’s carrying. Because he didn’t answer the phone when Silvia was stranded in the city, fearing for her child’s life. “It’s my fault,” I confess, feeling the burden fully as I watch Silvia try to keep herself in one piece.
And my statement shocks her enough that her tears subside. “How could it possibly have beenyourfault?” she asks between sniffles.
“I… I know Efrem was supposed to be there. He could have kept you safe. But I… well, Silvia, I was with him. He and I are… I mean, we’re…” God, I can’t get the words to leave my mouth because, suddenly, I feel like everything I’ve done is an immense betrayal—to Silvia, to Pyotr, to Efrem… “I’ve been seeing Efrem,” I breathe.
Silvia astonishes me as her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You and he have a lot in common, you know,” she says gently.
“What do you mean?”
“Efrem blames himself for not being there too. And maybe Pyotr’s right to be mad that we couldn’t get ahold of him. But the truth is, nothing you or Efrem did—or didn’t do—would have changed the facts. Maybe Efrem could have gotten to the pharmacy faster than Pyotr did. But, Dani, it was Efrem’s night off. I wouldn’t have called him to take me to the pharmacy whether he’d picked up or not. It wasmychoice to do what I did. And no one else is to blame. I’m responsible for the man’s life who was killed for taking me to get medicine for my daughter.Iput my daughter’s life at risk by not heeding Pyotr’s warnings. Because he told me not to leave the house without an armed guard. I should have waited for him.”
I can see Silvia’s relief at being able to give her confession, and though I still feel terrible for what happened to my friend, it eases my guilt as well. I hope Efrem might find peace knowing that’s how Silvia feels.
“So, don’t feel responsible for what happened—and don’t let Efrem either. I know he’s being too hard on himself,” Silvia says. “But it’s not his fault.”
My heart sinks as I think about Efrem and our fight. Taking on the guilt of Silvia’s terrifying experience and owning the blame for me alienating myself from my parents, he’s shouldering more than his fair share.
“I love the idea of you and Efrem together,” Silvia confesses, breaking the silence as a smile stretches across her delicate face. “I adore Efrem, not just because he would give his life to protect my husband but because he has such a generous soul. He doesn’t ask for much, always seeming content to serve Pyotr, but I have thought he seemed happier lately. It’s nice to know you’re the reason, though I had my suspicions.”
My heart warms at her statement, and though I was furious with Efrem when I left his apartment, I suddenly find it much harder to be mad at him. But still, it bothers me that he would doubt my choice to be with him so quickly after I fought with my family.
“What?” Silvia asks, seeming to read the emotion on my face.
I shake my head and swirl my glass of wine before taking a drink. “I just came from Efrem’s. I… cut ties with my family because my parents told me I had to stop seeing him. They don’t like their daughter associating with…” It’s hard to say, even though Silvia and I just had a candid conversation about the fact that the Veles are Bratva.
“Someone with close ties to the Russian mafia,” Silvia concludes.
I nod. “It’s… been an ongoing issue, and I knew I had to take a stand if I wanted to be with Efrem. It wasn’t fair to keep our relationship a secret… But now, after all is said and done, he’s upset that it ruined my relationship with my family.”
Silvia’s face softens with empathy, and her lips twist in silent question. “Do you… know much about Efrem’s past?” she asks tentatively.
“I know Pyotr’s mother brought him here from Russia when he was sixteen,” I say, drawing upon my memory of my first date with Efrem. “And that he has three younger brothers. He mentioned that his father was not a good man.” Frowning, I tilt my head. “Why?”
Silvia’s hazel eyes grow sad. “From what I’ve gathered, Efrem had a hard childhood. At a young age, he started having to stand up to his father, who would come home drunk and ready to beat on Efrem’s mom or siblings, whoever he could get his hands on.”
I nod, recalling Efrem mentioning it to some degree.
“When he was fourteen, things started to get worse. From what I understand, his father’s beatings were growing more excessive. As Efrem got stronger, more able to stop them, it only seemed to enrage his father more.”
I still, my muscles tense as I dread what I’m about to hear.
“One day, his father took a knife to Efrem’s mother. He did it while Efrem was out of the house, and when Efrem came home, his brothers were screaming, and his mom sobbing as she tried to fend off his father. Efrem stepped in and took on his father. But he couldn’t end the fight. His father was drunk out of his mind and ready to kill Efrem for getting in the way, so he kept coming at his son.”
Anxiety pounds through my veins, and I hold my breath, willing the story to have a happy ending, but I don’t see how it can.
“Efrem killed his father that day. He managed to take the knife from his father’s hands, and he killed the bastard right in front of his mother and brothers. The police came and took Efrem away. Locked him up.”
“But it was self-defense,” I object, though I know Silvia had nothing to do with what happened.
Silvia shrugs as if to say that it’s irrelevant to the story. “He was put in a juvenile correctional facility. And without Efrem’s help or his father’s income, his mother and brothers began to starve. His mom was unable to find sustainable employment after his father injured her so brutally. And his brothers were too young to start working. So his mother sent them away.”
“Away?” I breathe, tears stinging my eyes.
