Page 23 of Used By the Bratva

“Daddy told me to wait down there.”

I motion her forward, and she steps from behind Boris’s legs. “Well, your daddy had to go on a long trip, far, far away. He won't be coming home for a very long time. He's taken your mommy and your brothers with him.”

The tears are back in her eyes, and her lower lip trembles. “Send me away, too.”

Her sobs fill the room and tug at my heart, cutting through my numbness.

***

The penetrating ringing of the alarm clock cuts through the remnants of my dream and intensifies the pain in my head. Reality invades me–a puzzle of fragmented memories–and I struggle with the harshness between sleep and wakefulness.

I sit up in bed and press my palms against my eyes as if to protect myself from the memory. It’s been years since I last dreamed of that day. Time has woven its threads, but some knots cannot be untangled.

It was my right to persecute Antonio, and it gave me pleasure. It was my right to retribution. Pavel’s blood was on his hands, and Antonio and his family had to be wiped out.

And now, I must live with the guilt I still feel when I think of that little girl.

That day, I avenged Pavel, but I ruined her life.

In all the years that have passed, I haven’t been able to get her sobs out of my head. I tried everything I knew that day to get them to stop, but she only cried harder.

Even Boris tried to soothe her. He took her to a woman he was seeing and asked her to look after Natalya until I could make arrangements for the little girl's disappearance.

I toss back the sheets, the faint waft of perfume still clinging to them, even though it’s been four weeks since that beautiful woman was in my bed.

No matter how often I wash the sheets, she clings to me like my nightmare.

I leave the bed unmade, go to the bathroom, and splash cold water on my face. The icy shock does not dispel the memory.

In all the years, I’ve killed men, but that day is the one that still haunts me, and I know it’s because of the little girl with the big brown eyes.

Would I still have killed Antonio if I had known about the girl beforehand? Yes. I know I would have done it.

I take a deep breath and cling to the edge of the sink. “I shouldn’t still be dreaming about this fifteen years later.”

It wasn't easy to get her to Russia, especially since Sergey was still out for blood and wanted to make sure we killed the entire bloodline of Antonio’s family.

Nevertheless, Boris put the little girl on a plane in the middle of the night. He took her to an orphanage and dropped her off there. He instructed the woman in charge to call him if anyone was interested in the girl.

Over the last fifteen years, I—through Boris—have looked after the child’s welfare. I have made sure that she has a good life, even if that means hiding her in a foreign country where no one will ever get their hands on her.

All I want is to live my life, to be free from the nightmare, but I know that won’t happen until I find peace in my heart.

Boris knocks on the door and looks at me in the mirror. “Everything all right in here? I was going to tell you the car was waiting, but you look like you’re not ready for another family meeting just yet.”

I grab a white towel, wipe the last of the water from my face, and straighten up. “I don’t think I have a choice, do I?”

That is a rhetorical question. I know that as one of the top heads of the Bratva, I have no choice. I love the life I get to live, except when the past comes back to haunt me every now and then.

Boris frowns and steps aside as I leave the bathroom and head for the closet. “Did you have that dream again?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it stopped years ago.”

I pull out one of my dark blue suits and get dressed. “Well, it hasn’t. You’re still sending the money to Marina every month, aren't you?”

“Every month on the first. All the transfers have gone through to my knowledge.”

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