Page 9 of Unforgiving Sinner (Starukhin Bratva)

“You need a good radar here, Edie,” she says. “Some men don’t bother with being decent. Just stick with me, okay?”

“Why did he just take a picture of me?” I ask.

“People do that all the time at clubs.” She scoffs. “And you’ve got this innocence about you, Edie. It’s the same kind of innocence that assholes gravitate toward.”

“Oh,” I say dejectedly, remembering the man who tried to grab me. Suddenly I feel annoyed, and my evening is ruined.

Mercy looks at me, clearly recognizing my newfound discomfort. “Look, if you wanna bounce, just say the word.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s just too much to take in right now.”

“No worries, cousin.” She turns to Alyssa. “Hey, cover me for the drinks, will ya? I’ll pay you back next time.”

“That’s the third time this month, Mercy!” Alyssa fakes indignation and waves us away as she heads back to the dance floor.

“You gotta have some backbone in this city,” Mercy says as we walk out into the still night air. Overhead, the sky is starting to turn light. “Otherwise, someone’s bound to take advantage of you.”

“I know.” I may not be tough like Mercy, but I’m not clueless.

“Eden,” Mercy says hesitantly. “I’m serious. Being tough is real important in this city.”

“I hear you,” I respond coolly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

As we walk in silence, I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt for snapping at her. After all, Mercy is doing me a massive favor. But something about her words sting—maybe she thinks I should turn around and go home.

“Look, Edie, I’m sorry if I sound too harsh,” Mercy breaks the silence. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

Now she’s starting to sound like Dad.

“Thanks, Mercy,” I murmur, touched by her concern. “But I promise, I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

“Trust me, I’ll be fine,” I insist, forcing a smile. “I’m tougher than I look.”

As we continue walking, I feel a mix of gratitude and irritation. I know Mercy means well, but why is she underestimating me? I only need a chance.

It isn’t until after we finally return to Mercy’s apartment with the rising sun that I pull out the card from Nikolai. I walk over to the map of New York hanging on Mercy’s living room wall as she steps into the bathroom and find the street I’m looking for.

It’s surprisingly close.

An art gallery, I think. I wonder what kind of art he shows. I wonder if there’s any that I might like.

I glance at the bathroom door, listening to Mercy sing off-key in the shower. Something tells me that she’ll try and tell me not to go, especially after what happened in the club earlier.

But this is why I’ve come to New York, isn’t it?

To live life on my own terms.

5

NIKOLAI

I standtall in the dusty and stuffy anteroom of Sorokin Castle, my heart racing as I adjust the cuffs of my Saville Row suit. My reflection stares back at me in the mirror and I try hard not to grimace.

For years, I’ve both anticipated and dreaded this moment. And with my father, Gennady’s, recent passing, it somehow doesn’t feel real.

Inhaling, I exit the small room and enter the grand hall where my coronation is taking place. I kneel before the head of an ornate conference table and lift my head to heaven while the others remain standing. Grigori Schevchenko, the priest, nods and begins the liturgy of ascension, reciting the familiar words as my late father’s gun is placed before me.

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