Page 13 of One of Them

“Maybe you’ll be next,” Ilya joked, pushing my buttons, his gaze lingering as he waited for a reaction.

The warning I threw his way was nothing short of deadly. “You know my opinion on that topic.”

The concept of marriage, even romantic relationships, was foreign to me. I’d never witnessed it firsthand at home, and the people around me weren’t much better. I knew it brought along problems I wasn’t interested in. Not only did I have secrets to protect, but I also wasn’t sold on the idea of sharing my life with some stranger. I was yet to meet anyone worth considering going down that path for.

“If you say so.”

“Tell me about the lucky maiden.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

Ilya groaned at the action. “Can you not make her sound like a seventeen-year-old?”

“I have nothing to go off, do I? How old is she?”

“Twenty-six, I believe. She has three brothers, all underbosses in Bratva. Their family was one of the founding ones.”

“Do you like her?” I questioned, hoping for a better understanding of where they stood.

“What is this? The eighth grade?” He shivered. “She’s an attractive woman. As far as I can tell.”

“This is honestly painful to listen to,” I retorted. “But I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Ilya appeared pleased with my answer, his head inclining just an inch.

We moved on to the other topics we needed to discuss as if his entire world wasn’t changing, but the thoughts still lingered when I left his office and walked out of the compound.

Over the years, Ilya had expanded the place exponentially. The area now occupied so much land that one could easily get lost, but that didn’t stop him from buying up all the surrounding plots.

With necessities like a brand-new gym, armory, and a hacking lab built onsite, everything was within reach, saving the members time and distance.

Ilya had insisted I move into the lines of houses forming what we called ‘the village,’ where those closest to him lived. I turned him down, unprepared to commit to him or the Bratva. I certainly hadn’t worked this hard just to be beneath someone. While Ilya and the others hired me as a contractor, none of them were above me.

Never owned, never restrained.

Based out of the same apartment downtown, I commuted whenever I got called. The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence of the apartment swallowed me whole. It was untouched, everything in place, from the sleek furniture to the polished floors. The air still held the faint scent of fresh paint.

I didn’t bother making it home. It was just a place to sleep, nothing more.

Takeout was my go-to since cooking reminded me of things I’d rather forget. I ate in silence, staring out the window at the people below, feeling distant from them all. The city was a blur, just like everything else in my life.

I had something going for me, I reminded myself, and I wouldn’t jeopardize it by dwelling on the past. Still, in my weakest moments, I would daydream of a life where the wrongs had been righted. But who would do that?

Justice was a laughable concept. There most certainly was no fairness among those who lived in this city. It was grab-and-go. And those in power never had enough, no matter how much they took.

That night, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Nothing kept me up; it was just how this body operated now. A fault of my own. I had trained my system to survive on limited supplies, sleep included.

At night was perhaps the only time I allowed myself a moment to remember her. Out of respect, not longing. A loving face that had been dissolving in memory. Guilt lived somewhere deep inside me.

If I had asked more questions, maybe we could have prevented all that happened. Who was I to be worth losing their life over?

They say you should give forgiveness, but I had no one to give it to. Their choices had stripped me of my family and left me paranoid and full of anger. Even with a backpack full of baggage I had been dragging everywhere, the sun still rises, and I get up and let the past go for a while longer.

Engagement parties were a new concept, but I was no stranger to mafia meetings. They were the same thing, except one required more flower arrangements.

Only a handful of instances brought the various criminal organizations together. Weddings were one of them. Funerals were a close second.

All gathered here, bound by duty to pay their respects and present a unified front among those aligned. The intentions stretched beyond their circles as the rest of the criminal underworld watched closely, eager to identify a weak spot, an opportunity to prey upon.

Though not allowed through the door, information still found its way to rival families. Guaranteed to be used.

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