Page 4 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

The night of Jorik’s death, I told Arya to run. I told her it was only a head start, and that when the time came, I’d pursue her relentlessly.

I meant that. The war comes first. But once I have my Bratva back, I’ll chase her down to the ends of the earth if that’s what it takes.

In the meantime, however, I just can’t bring myself to let her disappear completely. Even if she’s nothing more than a little red dot on a map, emanating from a tracker in her things I had planted by a hired operative.

I sit and look at it for a while. Wondering what she’s doing. Who she’s with. What she’s thinking.

It lulls to me to sleep. My eyes drift closer and closer to closed.

Until, just before I succumb to the darkness, I notice something.

The red dot has begun to move. It’s been in the same place for almost two weeks. But now, tonight of all nights, it’s picking up speed along a highway. Headed south.

I frown. And, all alone in the empty motel room, I murmur under my breath, “Where are you going,krasavitsa?”

Arya

A Motel In Crestwood Village, New Jersey

Ernestine stirs her tea, her spoon clanking against the side of her cup. “June asked where Dima was last night after dinner. You didn’t seem to hear her. You were a little distracted.”

Tears well up in the backs of my eyes. I blink them away.

I’m not going to cry. There is no need to cry. Everything is fine, right?

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

For one beautiful morning, I let myself be fooled into thinking I could have a normal life with Dima. That we could be safe and happy. That we could splash in the lake and cook in the kitchen and take naps with Lukas.

I let myself fall in love with a fantasy. So when Dima popped my bubble, I wasn’t prepared.

The two weeks since I ran have been a nightmare. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t function during the day. I’m a mess around the clock—and the only thing holding me together is this strange little family I’ve become a part of.

When I fled Dima, I got into Brigitte’s car with Lukas and just started driving. We drove and drove and drove until we were as far away as I could get. I pulled over to the side of the road, slept for a few hours, and then kept driving some more.

Most of the days that have followed are a blur in my memory. I found Ernestine and June and told them we had to move. We’ve been on the run since then. Never more than one night in a single place. Just moving, constantly, and looking over my shoulder all the while.

It’s no way to live. And it’s wearing me down to the bone.

A hand lands on my shoulder. I jump and shriek.

“Did you hear me, dear?”

“I’m sorry, Ernestine. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay. You seem distracted.”

I nod, unable to speak until I clear my throat and pull myself together. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Ernestine’s eyes say she doesn’t believe me, but that’s okay. She knows what it’s like to suffer under tough circumstances. She’s been doing it her whole life.

She guesses what I’m thinking about without having to ask. “You and Lukas are safer without him, you know. He’s trouble.”

“I know,” I mumble.

But do I?

I’ve seen sides of Dima that say that exact opposite. That he’s not trouble. That he loves us. That he wants to keep us safe and protected, to be there for me and for his son, to take care of us. Somewhere deep inside him is a good man.

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