1
ELENA
Ican’t hear them fighting when I wake up. That’s the first sign something is horribly wrong.
Silence. Way too much silence.
“Mom?” I shout, swinging my legs out of bed. “Dad?”
Nothing. I climb to my feet, panic clawing at my throat. “Natalia?”
The apartment is never silent. If it’s not my parents arguing, it’s my sister’s music blasting from her side of the bedroom.
Natalia’s bed doesn’t look slept in at all. What the hell is going on here? Where is everyone?
I tell myself this is one of my dad’s weird jokes. He’s always loved his pranks; the crueler, the better.
When I was nine, he left a severed deer head in the fridge to teach me how to handle surprises.
Another time, he stretched a cable across the top of the stairs as a reminder to pay attention to my surroundings.
I spent six months limping and all I learned was that you can’t trust anyone in this life.
I head through to the lounge, stopping dead when I spot the message gouged into the far wall.
Deep, jagged letters spell out four terrifying words.
BEWARE THE BRATVA KING
I stumble back, clutching the doorframe for support. My stomach churns as my eyes dart around the room, scanning for signs of a struggle. There aren’t any, but somehow that’s worse.
I dart through to my parents’ room. The bed is smooth, unruffled. The truth sinks in like ice water injected into my veins.
They’re gone. I’m totally alone.
I return to my room, grabbing my phone and jabbing at the screen with shaky fingers. I call my dad. No answer. Same with Mom. Natalia’s phone doesn’t even ring.
I know I gotta call the police, but I desperately need to hear a familiar voice. There’s only one other number left to try—my best friend. Shemighthave answers?
As the line rings, I check the doors and windows. All locked.
“Veronica?” I say down the line when it finally connects. “I need help.”
“Elena? What’s wrong?”
“They’re gone.”
“Who’s gone?”
“Mom, Dad, Natalia. I woke up just now, and they’ve disappeared.”
“Shit, seriously? Where?”
“I’ve no idea, but there’s something else. A message carved into the wall.” I take a quick photo and send it over to her. “What do you think that means?”
“Beware the Bratva King? What the hell is that about?”
“So you don’t know either? Shit. What do you think I should do?”