Page 62 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

An Hour Earlier

I told Ernestine to meet me at the outlet mall. Fifteen minutes later, she hasn’t texted back nor shown up.

They are probably napping. Her phone is on silent. That’s all.

It’s hard not to assume the worst immediately.

They’re dead.

They’ve been kidnapped.

They’re dangling off the edge of a cliff somewhere while Zotov laughs in their face.

I have to remind myself to breathe. To just drink this ridiculous orange slushie I bought and stay calm.

It’s strange to watch normal families stroll by, pushing babies and holding bags of new clothes. It feels like I’m in a twilight zone. Like it’s another world altogether—because these people can’t possibly be living in the same world as me. How can they exist so peacefully in a world where mafias fight wars and bad men with big guns slap you across the face hours after you gave birth? How can my world and their world be one and the same?

But it is the same.

What I’ve finally come to learn—which took way longer than it should have—is that there’s no escaping this nasty universe I born into. Once you’re tangled up in it, you never get out. Like a fly in the corner of a spider’s web, you may be forgotten for a while. But the spider will come for you eventually.

And it’ll come hungry.

I hear a small cry behind me. My thoughts turn immediately to Lukas. I spin around, looking for him and Ernestine and June.

But they aren’t there. Instead, I see a small boy, no older than three, clinging to the arm of the bench behind me. He’s looking around with wide, panicked eyes.

“Hi there,” I say gently. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

The boy blinks at me. His brown eyes are brimming with tears as he nods.

I grab his hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s find your mom and dad. Do you know where they are?”

He shakes his head, either incapable of speaking or too nervous to talk to a stranger.

I scoop him up as I scan the crowd for anyone searching frantically. By now, the boy’s parents probably realize he is missing and are beginning the search. But I don’t see anything or anyone who looks concerned.

“Maybe we’ll talk you to a security station,” I murmur.

Not far down the sidewalk, I see a sign with a blue flashing light on top designating the security office. I’m moving towards it, navigating the crowd, when the boy suddenly squirms in my grasp.

He’s a small kid, but the sudden shift of weight still jostles me. I have to squeeze him tightly around the waist to keep from losing him.

“Whoa, what is it?” I yelp. At the same time the boy yells, “Mama!”

I hear a woman cry out in relief. “Oh, thank God!”

I spin around. A dark-haired woman with a top bun is running towards me, arms outstretched.

“Are you his mom?” I ask.

“Yes,” she gasps, clutching at her chest. “I was waiting in line at the coffee shop and he was in the stroller, but after I ordered, I looked down and he was gone. He just learned to undo the straps and I didn’t notice him walk away. Oh God. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I found him on a bench not far from there. You would have found him sooner, but I was taking him to the security office.”

“That’s where I was headed,” she says, reaching out to take the boy from me. “Thank you so much for helping him. I feel so stupid for letting this happen. I can’t believe he was out of my sight for even a second.”

Motherly guilt claws at my heart. I think of what Lukas has been through already in his short life. I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to keep him safe.

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