Page 82 of Embracing the Dark Side

“Your father—”

“I don’t want to hear—”

“You’re going to. Sit and shut up.”

Adrik clenched his teeth, sitting back.

“Your father went through this. After his sister was killed—Luerna and her babies. He lost himself. He became a very dangerous man, not just to his enemies but toeveryone who ever loved him. For a whole year, I grew afraid of him. I was already married to him then, pregnant with your sister. And there was no divorce in the Mafia, not back then. When he climbed out, he found out his actions had life-altering consequences. Things that can never be undone. So, I’m begging you to not lose your soul.”

He rubbed his temple. “That was very dramatic, Mama.”

She slapped her hand on the table, forcing his attention on her.

“Listen to me now. Your brother would not want you to do what you are doing.”

Adrik sneered. “I think I knew Alexei better than you. He didn’t mind causing pain. He never shied from a fight. And that is what I’m doing. You want to keep your dresses, and your drugs, and your houses? Then you will sit there and be quiet as I command this family.”

“Dresses? You think I give a fuck about dresses?” She darted around the table, falling to her knees to grip his hands, looking up at him. “Our family is what’s important. To protect it, we stay on top, and that gets us nice things, but nothing is as important as you, as your sisters and bro—” She stopped herself. Though she had forgiven Gil, there was no doubt that Adrik never would. It was best never to mention him again. “Your daughter. That is why we fight. And I want you to fight, Adrik, but not like this. Not risking the very part of you that I adore.”

Adrik leaned over her. He touched her cheek, and she leaned into his palm. He rested his forehead on hers. “The part that you adored, Mama, is on its way to Russia.”

She shook her head, gripping his face, keeping him close. “It’s not. I know you loved your brother, but hewas not all that you are. You are a good man, Adrik. You have always been. Do you know how I know? You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill Jolie for betraying you, for talking with the FBI when you and I both know that's what your father would have done. Be honest with yourself. You are trying to destroy your heart because you hurt, but it’s still there. I’m begging you. Don’t lose yourself in your grief. Because some women won’t endure. And it doesn’t make them weak. It makes them worth sacrificing for.”

Adrik stared at his mother; pieces of her that he’d never seen now existed in her face. She was desperate and pained, as if memories were pushing her to the surface, forcing her to feel. But it was a little too late for Adrik. He didn't want her desperate reasoning.

“You are more powerful than your father ever was. So, stop the drugs. Stop the downfall.”

Adrik licked his lips; the very thought of throwing away his stash made his mouth water with want. He didn’t think he could do it. And that’s when he realized he was addicted. It was a bitter pill to swallow because, up till this point, he hadn’t seen it as a problem. It was a solution to the loss. It brought solace when nothing else did. But that wasn't true, was it? Because Jolie had brought him peace.

“What did you do to Jolie, Adrik? Why did she run from the house?”

The memories flooded him then, and he squeezed his eyes closed, watching himself hold Jolie’s hand as he ripped through Vincent’s lips. He couldn’t tell his mother; he couldn’t say it out loud. Tatianna took his head in her hands, and he stared at the floor coming to the realization that he's fucked up, just how he always knew he would.

Chapter forty

Accomplice

With her arms wrapped around the box and Tae-Tae sitting on top, Jolie showed up at the door of her parents’ house. Over her shoulder, a black SUV remained, ever watchful. She didn’t know how she was going to explain anything. After all, her mother had warned her about Adrik, and she had ignored it. Now, being back here felt ridiculous, and she almost backed away.

Heather opened the door. She looked over at her for a moment, noticing the black car, before she waved her hand. “Come on, baby, come here.” Heather took the box from her and set it down before she wrapped Jolie in her arms. Her daughter’s tears were instant, and Heather gripped harshly, cursing Adrik and everything that’s happened to her sweet girl. But this was the moment she was waiting for, as terrible as it sounded. She finally had her daughter back.

Waking up in her house, with the smell of coffee, hearing everyone’s footsteps and low talking, was a familiarity ingrained in Jolie. Her bedroom had been untouched. Panda posters lined the wall. A small desk sat in the corner; with a pink light she used to do her homework under. She had picked out her white-and-purple-flowered blankets on her sixteenth birthday. Nothing matched in her room. It was a collection of thrift store items and random gifts, most from her mother, but a couple from Vincent. It was messy and overstuffed, but personal and all hers. Only old memories were allowed in this safe space, ones that brought happiness and nostalgia.

But reality banged on her door.

Jolie curled into herself, staring straight at Vincent’s face. She had found an old photo of them at seventeen. He was in his football gear, getting ready for a big game. His arm heavy on her shoulder, she bared the weight of it, struggling but laughing. When that picture was taken, she already had their wedding planned, their future decided. She was going to work at a veterinarian’s office while Vincent began his lawn service business. They were going to buy a trailer down the block from where their parents lived and go to college part time. Jolie had every intention of getting pregnant right away, the desirefor kids more important than education or financial relief. Their lives were going to be boring, but perfect.

It was a childish fantasy. One she acknowledged even then. Vincent showed abusive qualities, and if she was honest with herself, the future didn’t look nearly as pretty as she painted it. But she was naive then, thinking that love could fix it.

The image of Vincent’s face was altered. Blood soaked his neck, cuts riddled his face, the misery was visible in his eyes. Everything about him was destroyed. Jolie closed her eyes to shield herself from the image, but it only amplified in the dark. She could see his lip piercing, tattoos on his temples and cheek, and hear his horrified screams.

Jolie sat up. She should call the cops. She could save him. But what if it was too late? What if he was already dead?

A knock on the door spooked her, and the cat, but her mother poked her head in. “It’s just me.”

Jolie fell back against the bed, running her hands through her hair. She swallowed the nausea and the rush of adrenaline. Her mother sat on the bed beside her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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