Arranged To The Bravta King

"Be fast, zhena," My husband says as he waves me over. I hurry in the dark, trying not to jostle our baby awake as I hold the precious bundle of joy tight against my chest. The penalty for noise is death, and even the sound of my heart hammering against my chest seems too loud.Just another few moments until we're free.Behind us, the hateful mansion's soaring stone towers rise in the distance.Hard and unfeeling like their owner's heart, they are meant to convey beauty and elegance. But in the darkness lit by starlight, all I see are the horns of the devil looming over us.A light blinks to life, and I try not to panic as its dim, searching eye sweeps across the grounds.And then I hear it.Barking in the distance. A man shouts in Russian.My husband turns suddenly in the direction of the noise. My throat closes like a vise, and I draw in a deep measure of harsh, cold air as the bottom drops out of my stomach.They're getting closer.The barking comes closer, and I swear I can hear t

Maria"I don't want you to get hurt, Maria."Dad opens the passenger's side door when we get home. He stares at me, and I sit there with my arms folded as if I could defy him. But slowly, my resolve crumbles, and I leap out of the truck, running past him to the front door. It's pathetic. I have to wait for him to open the door because I don't have a key."There are things I need to protect you from," he replies, unlocking the door. "Things you don't know about.""Then tell me!" I demand. "You can't keep me in the dark forever! It's my life you're ruining, not yours!""You're like your mother," he says quietly, taking in a ragged breath. "Maybe I wouldn't worry about losing you if she was still here."He always wins our arguments when he mentions her. He told me that she passed away from cancer when I was still a baby, long before I could even form any memories. But whenever I ask for any details, he never goes into it.Almost as if he can't bear to.Dad has raised me by himself my ent

MariaIt doesn't take long for me to get to the address on Mercy's card, and true to Mikhail's words, it's a bar. The name "Somewhere Bar" is lit up by neon lights, and even though it's not too far from Times Square, it looks surprisingly empty.I wonder if I've made a mistake when I spot her red hair—same as mine—before she sees me. I wave at her like a fool, and her dark eyes narrow on me for a moment before they light up with recognition. She coughs and tosses her cigarette to the ground."Maria!" she calls out. "What the hell! What are you doing here?""Hey, Mercy!" I shout back, dodging a pedestrian to reach her.Mercy wraps me in a tight hug. Her welcome is the reassurance I need right now. She steps back and looks me hard in the eyes. "Where's your dad?"I swallow hard. "I ran away.""Ran away?" She laughs loudly, verging on a coughing fit. "You're eighteen, for Chrissake. Call it what it is: you left home." She gives me another bear hug before pulling back, smiling."Well, you

MikhailA dark cloud lingers over my thoughts. Andrei Barinov's war has put unnecessary scrutiny over all of the Bratvas of the East Coast. A web of violence and deceit is slowly unfurling, and the threat of outside interference has only grown in the months since. To prepare, Father and I had begun a massive recruitment and armament drive. But his untimely death threatens to throw the entire thing off balance.And with the Lanzzare circling like sharks around us, looking for any and all moments of weakness, there is not a moment of rest to be had.Our conversation continues, and the brigadiers each rattle off information about our manpower, reserves, and operations. Each bit of news is accompanied by praise for my father and flattery for me, but I see through their attempts. They're probing me to gauge my reaction. But they played their hand already when Gunsyn disrespected me the moment I walked into my own home.And when it is time for them to leave, I gaze at the eastern horizon, p

MariaOur conversation flows effortlessly from there, moving from art to the city. I'm careful not to reveal too much about myself, but I can't help but be drawn to him. His charisma is intoxicating, and I find myself flirting with him more than I ever have with anyone before. I can't help but let myself be swept away by the possibility of falling in love. Maybe not with him—he's still a total stranger—but I want it to happen one day.Mikhail is nothing like the high school boys I know, and I feel embarrassed for being so eager when Trevor's hands were groping me at the party. I inhale as discreetly as I can when he looks away for a moment.In New York, I can create myself, just like a work of art."There's something about Kaori's art that transports a person into another world," I say breathlessly as we finally walk away from the painting and move on through the gallery. "I'd love to be in her world, even for a moment."Mikhail nods as he smiles knowingly and leads me over to a self-