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“But not quite there,” Nikolai said. He spoke matter of factly. I saw a new conviction in the boy I’d not yet seen.
Without any instructions from Svetlana, Nikolai walked toward the final target.
He took the stance.
He cocked the gun.
He fired the bullet.
This time, his body hardly flinched at all.
He’d shot a perfect hole in the center of Vladimir’s face, exactly between his eyebrows.
“Well done,” Svetlana said.
Nikolai cocked the gun once more.
He shot one more.
The bullet blasted through the exact same hole. A perfect shot, twice in a row now.
“Jesus,” I said out loud without thinking.
“It’s pretty easy,” Nikolai said, completely seriously. “Can we go back inside? It’s getting cold.”
Svetlana turned to me. “Sure,” I said. “Of course. Maybe Mr. Ivanov can whip us up some hot coco.”
We began to walk back towards the mansion. I turned around once more and looked at the targets. The heart, the neck, between the eyes—blown to smithereens. The boy was an absolute natural.
The wind picked up speed and hastened by me, whispering one more:You won’t be able to resist much longer.
Chapter 12
Nikolai
I stood by the rose garden, contemplating this new life of mine and hoping to absorb some wisdom from my mother, the mafia princess and then queen who’d brought all of this upon me. Not that it was her fault, necessarily. If anything, she’d tried to shield me from my genealogical fate—my God given birthright—not unlike the tarp attempting to shield the roses from snow, although inevitably some flakes had made their way in. But the sun was shining today and I could see the snow melting and dripping off the red rose pedals.
Firing that gun came too easily to me. I was no idiot—I was an insanely good shot. It was as if I’d shot that thing a million times in some past life.
Again, my parents couldn’t protect me from who I really was. Especially not from the grave.
I heard a noise in the distance and saw Damien making his way towards me. I smiled and waved, returning my gaze to the flowers as I waited for him to reach me. My heart fluttered a bit more with each step he took, with each sound of the melting snow crunching beneath his feet.
Why was I feeling this way about a man for the first time in my life?
Why him?
What would happen if I were to finally let my guard down?
“It’s a lovely day,” he said as he approached. He was in his black trench coat, with a demanding presence that attracted me like a moth to a flame. I thought of the poisonous but beautiful plants in the greenhouse behind us. His chiseled features complemented his tall stature, his flat face exuding an air of quiet confidence and adding to his enigmatic yet dark charm. The red color of the flowers accentuated the contrast with Damien’s black eyes. There was a prelude unfolding a story that awaited us in the midst of the blooming roses.
“It really is,” I replied after some time.
“You know, I was a child myself when I first saw you, back when your parents brought you here, knowing you would never remember it,” Damien told me, staring at the flowers.
“Everything was so different back then.”
“Everything changes,” I said, feeling wise and sure of my words. “What do you remember?”
