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Prologue
11 years old
11 years ago
We’re sleeping in the safe room tonight. My father has been paranoid recently and this was the only thing that could make him feel better. We already have six guards on the property, but today he seemed particularly on edge.
The room has three comfortable cots and my parents’ are pushed close together. I would never tell them this, but I like it when we stay here. Mama always makes us hot chocolates in the small kitchenette, and then she and Father would tell stories of how they met and what life was like when they were younger. I sleep the best in this small room where we are tucked in safely.
Fatherbuilt the safe room himself, not wanting to let anyone else know that, behind the entertainment room in the basement, a hidden six-inch steel door leads to a fully stocked bunker with enough food and supplies to live in for a week.
I don't know exactly what it is my parents do, but they seem to be very good at it–even if it does involve certain risks they refuse to tell me about.
Father turns the monitors on the back wall off so we can go to sleep for the night, then comes over and tucks me in and kisses me on the forehead, like he does every night. Mama kisses me next before they make their way to their cots. I find myself trying not to move so that the covers stay around me just like my father put them. It makes me feel safe, like I'm wrapped in a cocoon where nothing can get me.
When I would get nightmares a few years back, my father would always come to me. He never made me feel bad or childish for having fears. Instead, he tried to teach me that it was okay to be afraid, so long as I didn’t let the fear control me.
He started helping me train with a knife when I was nine, so I always felt like I could protect myself. He even got me a special sheath for it so I could keep it under my pillow while I slept.
Mama starts shivering and asks Father if he brought the extra blankets down. He says he forgot but will run to grab them and be right back. As he leaves through the door into the entertainment room, it seals shut behind him. I look over to Mama with a question on my mind.
“Do you think father is right to be afraid?” I ask her.
My mama won't lie to me, but she has always asked me to think hard about my questions and make sure I was really ready to accept the truth of the answers. My mother has always made a point for me to be aware of my emotions and learn to deal with them and process them. Many of her friends assume I’m much older than eleven because of this. I’m not just asking her because I want her to comfort me and lie, I’m asking because I want to know and I’ve genuinely thought about how to process that answer. If we aren’t safe, if I need to be more aware of my surroundings and keep an observant eye on things, then I think that's important for me to know.
The look on my mama's face is answer enough though. Something is wrong.
“I think your father will do everything he can to keep his little Lucky Charm safe,” she says, purposefully cryptic.
I'm about to tell her that’s not a real answer, and ask her to tell me what's going on, when a shot rings throughout the house. Mama jerks up off the cot and runs to the desk. She quickly turns on the monitors and all of the breath leaves her lungs. A man is standing in the living room with a gun pointed at my father. The audio isn't registering, but Mama knows this man. I can see it in her eyes.
“Why now?” she mumbles under her breath.
She looks at me with wide eyes and bends down to grab me by the shoulders.
“I need you to listen, Baby. I'm going to go out there, and I'm not going to come back. I want you to stay here until everyone is gone. You do not leave this room until then, no matter what you see or hear. Do you understand?”
I begin to shake and tears fall down my face. She wraps me into her arms and holds me tighter than she ever has before.
“The greatest surprise of my life was realizing how much I love you,” she whispers into my ear. I can hear heavy footfalls coming down the stairs as she releases me and runs out of the safe room to shut the door behind her. She blows me a kiss as a single tear escapes from her eye, and then the door seals. My heart thrums with anxiety.
Why did that feel like goodbye?
I dash to my cot as fast as I can to grab my blade from under the pillow. I return to the monitors and unsheathe it, cradling the cool steel against my skin. Even though I know no one can get in here, it brings me comfort to know I have a weapon. Holding the blade makes me feel as though my father is right here with me.
If Mama’s not coming back, then I'm determined to find out who's doing this and why. Frantically, I search for the knob on the right of the screens to turn on the audio. After that, I hit the record button to back up the video to the flash drive on the side as well as the main hard drive. When Father installed everything, he made sure I could work all of the pieces, just in case anything were to ever happen and I was alone.
The audio comes on and a man with a Russian accent speaks directly to my father as my mother is pulled into the room by her hair. She doesn't scream or fight. She just gives my father a nod and he smiles at her.
“Things will go best for you and your wife if you give me the girl. This was always going to happen, Damir.”
My father spits at the man's feet and the man sneers back at him. “You will regret that. I will burn this house to thefuckingground, she belongs to the Pakhan!”
Thank goodness my father had the foresight to build this room in soundproof steel with a separate ventilation shaft to prevent smoke from entering in the case of a fire or tear gas being thrown at the house. I really should make a mental note to ask more about why we have this safe room.
My father laughs in the man's face. “Boris and I have a new deal. Why would he do this now?”
The man looks my father in the eyes and smiles wickedly. “He might have had a new deal, but until it’s signed the old one still applies, and it’s time for you to pay up.”
