Chapter One
Irina
I’m woken up to the feeling of something clamping down on my mouth.
With a gasp, my eyes open and I try to see what’s before me. In the dark, it’s hard to tell, but once my eyes focus, I realize that it’s my own father.
“Irina,” he whispers, removing his hand.
“What’s going on? Why did you do that to me?”
“Because you have to come with me right now and I can’t have you making a lot of noise.”
I frown as I push myself up into my bed. It’s decorated in soft pinks and whites. The color of innocence. I may be eighteen now but I still feel like a little girl sometimes. My dad never allowedme to date and I was always too afraid of him to try going against his wishes.
Because the truth is: my dad works for the Bratva, the Russian mafia. I’ve known if for years but it’s just something we’ve never spoken about. It’s something I’ve always been too afraid of.
I never wanted to risk dating and putting someone in a position to be hurt. I may not know everything the mafia does but I know it’s not pretty.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, my heart racing. There’s a panic in my dad’s eyes. The great Ivan Koslov. He’s always felt larger than life but right now, he looks… scared.
“Just come with me. No questions asked. Don’t make a sound.”
“Just tell me.”
“Irina,” he says in a hard tone I’m very familiar with. My dad is not someone who likes back talk.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, dropping my eyes.
“Now, come with me.” He practically drags me out of the bed with how fast he tugs on my arm. I stumble to the ground and he gives me a hard look as if it was my fault when we both know it was his.
“Should I change?” I’m in nothing but a cotton t-shirt and shorts. No bra. The indent of my nipples can be seen through the shirt. My dad gives my body a disgusted sneer. He always hated that I slept without a bra on, calling it ‘indecent’ even though I’m smaller chested. But I always refused to wear one to sleep. My room is my one sanctuary and he can’t take that from me.
“There’s no time,” he hisses, tugging on my arm. “Come on.”
We tip toe out of my room. Why are we being so quiet? Is there an intruder? My fear keeps me silent as we work our way through the house. It’s a large, beautiful space in the suburbs of New York City. I’ve grown up in my gilded cage with just me and my dad. My mom died when I was a little girl from breast cancer.
Somehow, my dad blamed that on me too.
When we make it to the front foyer, I can’t help but wonder what’s truly going on. We haven’t encountered any intruders so why is my dad being this way?
“Come along.” He opens the front door.
“I should put my shoes on if we’re going somewhere. A jacket.” It’s fall time, so there’s a crisp to the air.
“There’s no time,” he hisses, motioning me to follow him.
“But Dad –,”
“Irina. Come along.” His tone speaks to no disagreements.
So with nothing else to do, I follow him out of the house with no shoes on and no jacket to protect me from the cold air.
When we get in the car, my confusion grows even more. “Dad, what is going on? Why did I have to do any of that? I don’t understand?”
But he doesn’t say a word as he drives me away from our house and into the city. At this time of the night, even New York is somehow quiet. Of course, there’s the sound of car horns honking but other than that, there’s a peace over the city. But I know danger lurks in the shadows. My father told me stories of how girls get raped in alleyways if they don’t listen to their fathers so I always listened to him.
Yet tonight, all I see are the bright lights of the city as we drive through it. No danger. But it’s just a shiny veneer. There’s darkness and danger everywhere. I can feel it in my bones.