1
Katie
The door slammed shut. The sound ricocheted through me, a loud reminder that I was leaving behind my family and the love of my life.
Rome had knelt before me, begging me not to leave. How could I not, though?
Freedom comes at a price. Breaking away from the shelter of your chains means you risk your life to see your true potential.
I’d been comfortable, stagnant, bound to the life the family had built for me. I’d allowed it. I’d actually respected and even defended it.
But it only took one trigger for the emotions to surface, and I’d been suppressing them for too long. I walked out into the darkness of the night and felt the wind whisper through my hair, the night sky blanket my skin, and the sound of the city swirl around me. I felt the world, and for once it felt like it had opened itself up to me, that every possibility was available to me, that I, alone, was good enough to carve out whatever piece of it I wanted because I, alone, deserved it.
Freedom, though, comes at a price.
I stood on the edge of the sidewalk as the dark SUV rolled down the street. The rubber of the tires crunched over the pavement. No man stood by my side, and no one would protect me if Dimitri, the man who was said to be my uncle, rolled down the window to take my life right at that instant.
As the vehicle came to a stop and idled there, my heart raced. Adrenaline pumped through my veins enough to make my hands shake against the duffel bag I clung to my shoulder.
A large man got out of the driver’s side and rounded the back. He opened the door, waving me in. “Hurry up.”
Without hesitation, I left behind the comfort of the Armanelli family for the unknown. I’d find a way to prove to everyone that I was worthy of standing on my own, that I deserved a place in power just as much as any of them.
I folded into the SUV and came face-to-face with Dimitri, the heir to the Russian bratva. The seats wrapped around the back of the limo, allowing him to face me with his glacial blue stare. He waited for me to take him in: his white collared shirt, his black slacks and shined shoes, with little else to accessorize. It reminded me that he was cutthroat, straight to the point with no flair.
Two men sat on either side of him. One of their suit jackets folded over awkwardly, showing me just where he was carrying a gun. Neither of them smirked or offered any expression.
I knew the bratva for their low profile. No jewelry was worn, they barely had tattoos, and they didn’t flaunt what they had. The Russian bratva had only just started to spread since Dimitri stepped into power. Sure, the family was disorganized, but they were ruthless and smart enough to work their way to the top with the resources they had.
The family was worth billions just like the Armanellis, and only the bloodline had access to it.
I’d heard the stories of Dimitri’s father, how he’d killed children, how he’d tortured them in front of their parents just to get his way. He’d embedded his bratva within the government by breeding fear in its officials, by doing away with morals. Lines were made to be crossed, and he’d done it without hesitation.
Then, supposedly, his memory failed him. Now, he lived in a nice little suburb outside of the city.
“Introductions are in order, Katalina.” Dimitri leaned back and straightened a cuff of his sleeve, giving me a moment to respond.
“You seem to already know my name.” I sat back too, studying him.
His jawline cut like mine, and the slope of his nose was the same, but his eyes were too blue, his stare too vicious and cold as he sat there without responding.
Dimitri and I weren’t related, not in the way I wanted to be, anyway. Blood was becoming less and less important to me. “We can skip the bullshit. You wanted me; you got me. What are you going to do with me?”
“Maybe I should keep it a surprise, yeah?” He smiled like a snake would at a mouse, his thick Russian accent heavy on his tongue. The frigidity of his eyes, how they pierced deep down into my being, showed me just how well this man could play games.
“Our lineage stems from the Romanovs, I’ve heard.”
“What of our lineage? You won’t have that blood in you for long.”
“Ah, but can’t a Romanov defeat the odds?”
“Or they’re destined to be executed. You tell me.” One of his fingers tapped his pants, slowly, to an imaginary rhythm.
“What do you want me here for? I’m not going to beg to know. If you planned to kidnap and kill me, you’ll have an embarrassingly easy job, but I’m guessing a drive-by would have sufficed for that. So from the looks of it, we’re going to see your father.”
“And your grandfather,” Dimitri said, lifting an eyebrow and gauging my reaction. When I didn’t flinch at his words, he slid from his seat to come sit right up against me. His breath was hot on my shoulder, and he breathed in my scent against my ear. “Pity we’re related.”
His muscle shifted in their seats; one frowned while the other smirked like he might get a show. Neither of them knew their leader well enough to guess his next move, which meant either Dimitri was that unstable or they were green.