Updates once per week. UNEDITED DRAFT. Content notes apply only to this part.
I stab my spoon into my pint of ice cream, wishing I was stabbing James’ smug face instead.
Ugh.
It had taken me a long time to realize just what a dick he was — is — and now that I’m out of that relationship, it’s like I’m finally seeing clearly for the first time in six months.
It doesn’t make it any easier to cope with being cheated on, which my pride is definitely wounded over, but a trip to the shoe store and a night in with a stupid action movie with everything blowing up and a lot of ice cream had helped some.
Dumping him had been the best thing I’d done all year, so why am I so miserable?
Realizing I’d been gaslit and fucked with had done a number on my pride.
Ma walks past the family room and peers in. “Did you eat the entire pint? You’ll get fat if you keep doing that.”
I roll my eyes at the familiar jab. With my father dead and my two remaining brothers out of the picture, I’m the sole focus of my mother’s attention. I almost want to plead Sean’s case to get him out of jail early just so Ma will have somebody else to pick on.
Of course, half the reason she’s being so critical is because of how stressed she is. Between losing Pa, Sean going to jail, and Kyran abandoning us for his lover, Ma’s entire life has been derailed. She’s never had a job, either, focusing on caring for the family.
Now I’m the only family she has left.
“If I get fat, I get fat,” I answer, pointedly eating more ice cream. “At least shallow pricks like James won’t want me anymore then.”
Abusive pricks, though I won’t admit that to my mother. She’s always been the type to blame the woman.
Sometimes I wonder how I ended up so different from her.
“You should go to bed,” I tell her, and it’s only partially because it’s late. I should’ve stayed at my apartment, but ever since everything I am pointedly not thinking about had happened last year, I haven’t been fond of being alone.
“So should you,” Ma answers. She walks over to the coffee table and starts picking up my dirty dishes. “If your father were alive, he wouldn’t want to see you moping around like this.”
If he were alive, I could have told him all about what James did, and gotten a more visceral kind of revenge.
I’m not that kind of person though, I remind myself. I’m not violent like my father had been, like my brothers are. I know better than anyone how important it is to stay within the lines of the law.
I don’t want to abandon Ma.
“Ma, don’t clean for me,” I say, reaching out to stop her. “I can handle it. You just go to bed—”
The lights suddenly shut off, the TV with them.
We both go quiet.
A few seconds later, I hear the distinct sound of a gunshot.
I wish I wasn’t so familiar with that sound.
All I have with me is a goddamn spoon. Not my phone, not the gun my brother Kyran insists I carry everywhere. Just a small metal spoon.
“Ma,” I whisper. “We have to get to the safe room.” I set down the ice cream container and grab her hand. It’s shaking, and she’s still holding the mugs. I take them from her, and she lets me, her fingers going slack as soon as she isn’t touching them.
She doesn’t move, though, until I give a firm yank of her arm. Now isn’t the time to freeze or panic.
There will be plenty of time for both later.
Sometimes I wonder, too, how she managed to stay married to a gang leader without becoming stronger, harder. I guess Pa had really shielded her from this world, but now isn’t the time to be weak.
The gunshot and ensuing silence are more eerie than if someone had exploded through the door. It’s impossibly quiet, and I distrust that more than sounds of violence. At least then I would know that Sam and the others are okay. Sam is a nice guy — or as much as one can be when in the throes of mafia life — and he’s been there for us through a few small scares.
This, though? This is no small scare.
I carefully lead Ma through the house. The safe room is near Pa’s office, behind a hidden door. Perfect for when you’re already in the office having secret gang meetings, less so for when you’re on the opposite end of the house watching TV with a pint of ice cream.
A window shatters behind us. I whirl around just in time to see a gloved hand grab the ledge of the window.
I never even heard the bars getting removed.
Fuck.
“Run, Ma,” I hiss, pushing her down the hall. She stumbles, but she runs.
I have to give her credit for not screaming when the window broke.
The gunshot rings out, and a bullet flies past me, shattering the decorative vase in front of me.
This time, Ma does scream, and she freezes in place so that I crash into her.
If we get through this alive, I’m going to make her move into the fucking safe room, or finally convince her we need to downsize and move somewhere we aren’t so conspicuous. Never mind that Pa had helped build the place, never mind all the sentimentalities. If anything can convince her that safety is paramount, it has to be this.
Maybe my brother will even unwrap his lips from around his boyfriend’s cock long enough to help us.
Ugh. There’s no time for bitterness. I shove Ma again. We’re sitting ducks, and the safe room isn’t too far away.
We just have to get there.
In a situation like this, the homeowner has an advantage in the dark. The intruders don’t know where everything is.
The problem is, the place is so large that I barely remember where everything is, either. I almost crash into a wall before I remember I need to turn the corner. Ma isn’t faring much better, using the wall to steady herself.
If I had any kind of weapon on me — goddamnit — I might feel better about our chances, but I’d gotten careless.
“Come out, zaya,” a rough voice says from behind.
I’m going to vomit.
The terror has me damn near paralyzed, and Ma isn’t moving either.
I think the realization that I have no idea what to do is even worse than the fear. I always have a thought, a quip, a plan. It’s so rare for me to be caught completely off guard, off balance — but then, maybe that’s not the case anymore.
Fucking hell, Sierra, I sternly tell myself. Now is not the time for this shit!
I need to save the trauma for later and work on survival for now.
“C’mon,” I whisper desperately. The only chance we have is to get to the safe room before this strange man catches up with us. If we’re lucky — and we have to be lucky — we can manage it.
Ma whimpers, but she starts moving again, too. I don’t want to risk running again, though. We have to hope the intruder is just as blinded as we are.
I hear a shout from somewhere else in the house, from a more familiar voice. That’s got to be one of the bodyguards. But several gunshots later, things are quiet again.
That means there’s more than one intruder. The man behind us, and whoever’s closer to the front door.
Ma sobs quietly, but I don’t reprimand her. I can barely keep it together as it is. My heart is pounding so fast that my chest hurts.
Just a little further. We’re almost at the safe room, and then…
Great, we can call the cops from the emergency phone, and while they chase off the intruders, they might search the house while they’re at it. As if they hadn’t already turned the place upside down back when Sean got arrested.
That’s still preferable to us losing our lives.
The nearby window illuminates the bookcase that hides the door to the safe room. I breathe a small sigh of relief.
I tug on Ma’s hand and head toward the bookcase a little more steadily.
I have my hand on the panel to open the door when the small bit of light from the window disappears.
A large hand wraps itself around my wrist.
“Where are you going, hmm?” a deep voice says. Not the same guy from before, and this one has an accent that makes the blood freeze in my veins because the Russians have every reason to hate my family.
They have every reason to slaughter me and Ma, and my sister-in-law and her children too.
They have every reason to paint another room red, leaving me with nightmares of so much blood, so many body parts, so much flesh mottled with bullet wounds, and I—
I can’t think of anything to say. I can’t think; hell, I can barely breathe. The sound I make is little more than a squeak, and Ma is crying, and I don’t know what to do.
“Nikolai! Bring the light!” the man shouts down the hall. “So I can see where they hide their secrets.”
Ominous footsteps thud against the hardwood floor, and my heart beats frantically in my chest as another man nears us.
I try feebly to pull my hand away from the Russian holding me, but he only tightens his grasp, gripping until the delicate bones painfully grate together.
“This place is a maze,” the voice I recognize from earlier — the one that had called me zaya — says, coming up from behind us. He holds something up, and a blinding light flashes across my vision.
I blink, averting my eyes from the too-bright cell phone flashlight, and I realize I’m still holding on to the fucking spoon. “You can have it. Any of it,” I say quickly.
I wish Ma would stop sobbing. I can’t think. The security system should’ve flagged something by now; once the power was cut, once the gunshots started, Kyran would’ve known… and no matter how he feels about Ma, no matter how he feels about any of this, he wouldn’t abandon us.
“P-please,” Ma sobs. “Please, don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt my baby.”
With the light, I can get a better look at the intruders. The one holding me is large, impossibly so. Larger even than my brother Kyran. This man has a thick beard, dark hair, and very intense eyes. I spot the hint of a tattoo on his neck, but it disappears under the collar of his dress shirt.
“It’s up to you whether I hurt her or not,” the man says. He moves my hand from the panel and pushes down on it with his other hand. The bookcase swings inside to reveal the safe room. “I want your father’s guns.”
“Those are in the armory,” I say quickly, trying to tug my hand away. “We got rid of most of them. Well, the FBI got rid of most of them when they searched the house.”
I hadn’t even been allowed to keep the one I’d had legally.
“No,” the man barks. “Not those guns. The weapons stores. The shipments he stole from us.”
Fuck.
I shake my head, swallowing thickly. “Please, we don’t know anything about that. Pa didn’t involve us. Because we’re women.”
Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to deter this mountain of a man from hurting us to try to find out what he wants to know.
The man with the flashlight chuckles. “And women are only good for one thing, eh, Kotya?” He’s big, too, though he’s still shorter and leaner than the one called Kotya. I think this one must be Nikolai, but that doesn’t help. None of that helps at all.
“Check this secret room,” Kotya orders. “Maybe Winters stashed things here to hide from the FBI.”
His grip on my wrist tightens as Nikolai walks past us into the safe room, taking the light with him.
“There’s nothing in there,” I say. “It’s just to keep us safe during… during…”
During intrusions.
Kotya lets out a rumbling laugh. “Not very safe then.”
No. Not very safe at all.
I’m torn between telling them that we should expect company any minute, backup from the men or from Silvano Cresci himself, and letting them be here to get caught. That would lead to more gunshots, though, and the potential that my mother and I could be hurt.
“More men will be on the way,” I blurt out. “Cresci’s men.”
I hope he’s scared off by the name of one of New Bristol’s most prominent mafia dons, but somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be that effective.
Kotya laughs even louder. “Him? He can’t afford to piss me off.” He squeezes my hand so tightly that I worry my wrist bones will break. “Nikolai, did you find anything?”
“Nothing obvious,” Nikolai says, turning back to look at us. “Well. I found something.” His eyes rake up and down my body, and he smiles wolfishly. “Something worth taking, maybe?”
“Just leave Ma alone, and I’ll come quietly,” I say in a hurry, ignoring my mother’s choked sound of protest.
“Sierra, no,” Ma whispers. “Please, she’s my only child!”
I’d almost laugh about that lie, if we weren’t in this situation.
Kotya lifts my wrist, forcing me to rise up on my tiptoes. He peers at me, and I get a very close look at his deep green eyes.
“Your father owes us,” he says darkly. “And you’re being uncooperative.”
“I-I’m not!” I sputter, unable to hide my indignation. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, and I can’t give you what I’m not hiding! We told you, the FBI took everything. There’s nothing left.”
Kotya looks at Nikolai. “What do you think?”
Nikolai shrugs. “I think there’s no fucking way they don’t have things hidden away somewhere, but I also think dear ol’ Pa didn’t tell the dumb bitches anything.”
I bristle at being called a dumb bitch, and despite the pain in my wrist, despite how stupid it is, I move to elbow Kostya hard. He stops me, of course, which only wounds my pride even more.
I’m not a dumb bitch, but I am apparently a very helpless one. Great.
“All right. Tell the men to keep searching.” Kotya wraps a hand around my neck, squeezing just enough that I whimper. “She’s a pretty bitch, at least.”
“Let go of her!” Ma says, though the words might be more impressive if her voice wasn’t shaking so badly. “Please, she’s the only child I have left. Don’t hurt her.”
I grit my teeth. Now isn’t the time to remind her that Kyran fucking exists, or to bring family drama into the moment. I’d let her try to negotiate with them, for all the good it’ll do, but this is just dragging things out more.
Nikolai chuckles. “You think Cresci’s men are really coming? Or is the little rabbit lying?”
“We’re under his protection,” I state with more confidence than I feel.
“Like I said. I’m not worried about Cresci.” Kotya runs his thumb over my lower lip, but his gaze is on Nikolai again. “If we find nothing, we kill them all. Let everybody know what happens to those who piss off Konstantin Voronkov.”
I can’t help it. I snort. He sounds like such a stereotypical mob man, and I’ve heard it all before. “Sorry,” I say, laughter bubbling up from my throat. “I’m just… I’m sorry. Hang on.”
“Sierra!” Ma hisses.
“Something funny, zaya?” Nikolai asks, and he grabs my mother by the shoulder, gripping her tight enough for her to let out a pained little cry.
That makes the hysterical laughter die down in a hurry, and tears spring to my eyes.
Red.
All the bullet holes, all the gore, the way I’d heard so much shrieking only to realize it was coming from me—
“Wait!” I choke out, red still tinting my vision as I imagine my mother’s corpse in front of me just like my brother Neil’s. How much more violence can my family take? Had Pa ever realized just what he was subjecting all of us to by trying to maintain the Winters family’s holdings? “I can… I can find it. If he put it in his phone, or on his computer, I can find it.”
I hope.
Kotya’s hand around my neck squeezes threateningly before he lets go entirely. “Find it? How?”
I wheeze, taking in a deep breath before telling him, “I’m about to graduate with a computer science degree. I majored in…” I wince. “Ethical hacking.”
Nikolai starts laughing. “Ethical hacking? Is that a thing?”
“Yes,” I say sullenly, hating him for laughing at something I’d worked so hard to learn. “Hacking isn’t inherently bad. It’s just how it’s used.” I’m sure he doesn’t want to know the difference between white hat hacking and black hat hacking, or how useful it can be for a company to employ someone to find holes in their defenses, so I don’t bother to tell him. “Anyway,” I add, “I can figure it out. I can call off Cresci, too, so you have more time to search.”
I think. I’m not actually sure I can get Silvano’s men to back off, not when my brother Kyran is going to fucking freak out when he finds out the Russians cornered me and Ma in our own home.
“Sierra! Don’t!” Ma sobs. “Please, just leave her here. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s just a girl.”
I bristle a little at being called just a girl. I know she means well, but the fact that she reduces me to nothing so easily bothers me more than I want to admit.
Kotya and Nikolai share a glance.
“We take the girl,” Kotya finally says. “Take all computers in the house. Phones, too.”
The FBI had taken most of those things, too. The only thing they hadn’t touched was…
Nikolai looks into the safe room. “Guess that laptop might be important, then.”
I feel sick, but at least if I cooperate, they’ll spare Ma. I won’t have to see another graphic scene of violence with her corpse at the center of it, and I can take care of myself.
Part of me wants to laugh all over again. I can take care of myself? With the Russian mob? Hardly.
But I have to believe it’s possible.
Kotya squeezes my shoulder. “You come quietly. If you fight, you struggle, you lie? Your old mamasha will find a grave sooner rather than later.”
I shudder and shake my head quickly. “No. I won’t do any of that. I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Assuming I can find it, of course, but I’m not going to tell them that. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it if I have to.
“Sierra,” Ma pleads, tears streaking her cheeks. “My baby girl, I can’t lose you too. I can’t lose all my children. I can’t.”
I stare at her, ignoring Kotya for the moment. “You still have a child, Ma. You have Kyran. He’s gay, not a serial killer.”
“Oh, is he?” Nikolai chortles. “And dear old Ma here doesn’t like it? That’ll be a fun story for you to tell us.” He meets my eyes, his chocolate brown ones dark and hungry. “When we don’t have other uses for you, of course.”
I shudder, not liking the implications of his words. But he releases Ma, shoving her a little.
“Stay out of the way, old woman,” Nikolai tells her. “Let’s go.”
Kotya pulls my shoulder and forces me to walk in front of him. “Let’s go. I am tired of standing in the dark.”
Nikolai nods. “Yeah. Come, zaya.”
I don’t ask him what it means, even though I’m dying to know. It probably means bitch in Russian. Either way, if I tell him it irritates me, he’ll probably do what James did when I told him I hated his nicknames for me.
So I keep silent, and I let the men guide me toward the door.
Ma is sobbing, and I glance at her before we leave the room.
At least she’s alive.
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