by V. F. Mason
Dominic
Sitting in an un-fucking-comfortable chair, while my folded bandaged palms rested on the plastic table in front of me, I tried to study the prison with an open mind.
The room had beige all over: walls, furniture, and even the fucking floor. The three small windows, which allowed in some natural light, had black metal bars on them and brought nothing positive into the picture. Several cameras surrounded us. A vending machine was on my left, although I doubted anyone used it, because why the fuck would you even want to drink coffee or grab a snack here? Police officers walked around the place, their guns ready to strike any minute and disable any danger.
The police and I, back in Russia, had a very cautious relationship. We flirted, but I never wanted to make the commitment they wanted. In other words, no matter how many times they tried to catch me with some shady stuff, I always came back from it clean, and it drove them crazy.
What the fuck ever. Seven people, mostly women with hopeless expressions, occupied the other tables and waited patiently like me for the prisoners to arrive.
Needless to say, all this didn't brighten my mood, which was shitty to begin with. Catching my reflection in the black polished part of the vending machine, I noticed red eyes and a pissed off vibe.
I didn't get any sleep last night.
“Now get on your knees, put it in your mouth, and bring me to heaven.”
“Please,” I begged, but only got a slap with a belt over my back in return. Closing my eyes, I held in the cry of pain, knowing it would only antagonize him more.
“You are no good for nothing but this, boy.” One more slap. “Better listen the next time.” The sound of a zipper lowering, one of the most hateful sounds in my life, and then his flesh was in my mouth as he got off on my gag reflex and the tears sliding down my cheeks.
The lid of the phone cracked in my hand, sending a small jolt of pain to my palm. It was the only thing snapping me out of the past or things that haunted my sleep.
Benjamin and Richard, men who made my and Damian’s childhood a living hell, were now behind bars and enjoying their punishment there. Originally, we were supposed to take matters into our own hands, but Damian decided not to do it and to send them into the system. I agreed with him, but part of me still demanded justice I felt we didn't get.
A buzz sounded, and a moment later, a tall, brooding man entered with two guards holding his hands behind his back before they let him go. He had massive shoulders and a bulky figure, way more buff than I remembered. Even the veins in his neck were strained. His head was clean-shaven and various tattoos ran all over his body. His eyes scanned the room, landed on me, and I rose from my seat to greet him.
His granite face lifted up in a half smile that barely reached his grey-as-metal eyes as he pulled me forward and hugged me close, patting my back as his hand held mine.
“Dominic,” he said.
I squeezed him harder, as I replied, “Radmir.”
After a second, we let go and sat opposite each other. “Why are you here? Where is Vasya?” He frowned. Clearly, he didn’t like that his request wasn't honored. Last night, he had all but demanded to be seen by the pakhan.
I held his stare, as I replied, “He is dead.”
His eyes widened in shock as his hands clenched into fists, and a flicker of sadness passed across his eyes. “When?” he finally asked, containing his emotions.
Clearing my throat, I gave him the information, knowing the reaction coming. “Almost two years ago.”
He rose swiftly as his fists hit the table loudly, and several women gasped. “And you are just telling me this?” At once, the guards were on him, holding him as a deadly expression spread over his face.
“Успокойся, Радмир.”(Uspokoisya, Radmir) My softly spoken words in Russian were enough for him to understand the importance of staying calm, and after a moment, the guards pushed on his shoulders, so he sat back down. They retreated, but not before one of them issued a warning. “One more time, and this visit ends.” Nodding, I focused my attention back on my sovietnik. “Five years in here and you still can’t get hold of your temper?”
He snarled. “You try living in a fucking cell and stay civil.” Realizing what he said wrong, he gritted his teeth and he paused. Radmir, aside from Vasya, Yuri and Vitya, was the only one who knew about my past. Seven years my senior, he was the one who greeted me into the mafia and taught me a lot of stuff. “I’m sorry, Dom,” he said, remorse coloring his voice.
“It’s fine.” And it really was. I understood him like no one else.
“Who is the new pakhan?” Without saying another word, I opened the sleeve of my shirt to show him my green snake tattoo, and recognition filled him. “Fuck, you?” Immediately, his mouth spread in a happy smile as his eyes shifted to my neck. “You don’t have a cross.” A cross was a gift from Vasya when I became a full member of the Bratva after I did my first kill. Once it was given, you couldn't take it off. Unless you wanted to stake a claim.
Radmir shook his head in disbelief. “You have a wife now?” Before I could answer him, he fired another question. “Who is your sovietnik then?” Nothing but indifference showed on his face.
The Bratva, or in other words the Russian Mafia, was a crime organization, which raised generations and generations of people with the same values and loyalty code. We lived, fought, and died for the brotherhood. There was a specific hierarchy that could never be broken or questioned, and everyone had to know their place.
As the pakhan, the boss, I was the head of the organization and could appoint new head members if I wanted to, because they’d work by my side.
The sovietnik, the counselor, was the left hand of the pakhan, and his job was to supervise the actions of the boss and everything that went under the Bratva dealings, take care of legal aspects of the organization, and the financial situation. But the most important part of the sovietnik was to be an impartial adviser to the pakhan, and solve internal conflicts. For this purpose, the sovietnik should be devoid of any interest or ambition, meaning he didn't know half of the shit that went under the radar.
When Radmir went to prison for a crime he didn't commit, I took his place for three years, and it was a damn hard job, considering I wanted to kill half of the shits creating trouble. “No one.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “What do you mean no one? You need to have a sovietnik!”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I said calmly yet with a harshness he wasn’t used to, “Do not question my decisions.” His brows raised, but he nodded.
As much as Vitya and Radmir were my friends, no one was allowed to show disrespect to the pakhan. Some things just needed to be followed religiously; otherwise, uprising could occur.
“You’re still the sovietnik. Once you’re out, you can take back your position.” He was taken aback by this information.
“No matter this?” He pointed at his cuffs and orange uniform. Usually imprisonment meant retirement in the mafia. You were still part of the lifestyle for life, but at the same time, you weren't an important member. If you were stupid enough to get caught, no one valued your opinion or your position in the brotherhood. “Radmir, yeah.”
Another chin lift, and then he said, “Get me out of here then, Pakhan. I’ve waited long enough.” The plastic of the table almost broke from his tight hold on it. “I want justice. And I want to be the one who does it.”
Looking to the side, I noticed a man happily chatting with his family. Love shone through the woman’s eyes as she studied her man with adoration and wonder. What was it like to be loved like this? No matter what bad stuff you did, you’d still get this kind of love? Was it fate, or finding the right woman? Or a woman who was fool enough to fall for the wrong man and couldn't go back in time to change it?
Would Rosa be a fool for me?
Closing my eyes, I cleared my throat and delivered a blow Radmir wasn't expecting. But the truth couldn't be hidden anymore. “Vivian was the one who framed you,
Radmir.”
Surprise and denial erupted. “No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.” But even as he said those words, he was probably reminiscing the last days of his freedom, and some facts and dots he couldn't connect before clicked. And with that came deep fury, which even his indifferent stare couldn't hide.
His voice, cold and low, proclaimed, “Then I will get my justice on her.”
Adding to my friend’s misery wasn't something I wished to do, but he needed to fully understand what he was asking of me before I agreed to it. “She married Alex, and they have a four-year-old son.”
And with that came fury that couldn't be tamed. With his hands, he threw the table over. His chair fell down when he stood up abruptly and he breathed heavily. He struggled when guards wrapped their hands around him, used a taser to his side, and then removed him from the room. But not before he had time to whisper, “Yes.” And it was a sign that he still wanted my help in getting out.
Flipping my phone open, I waited for few beeps, and once Dima, our lawyer, picked it up, I ordered, “Proceed with Radmir.” Hanging up on him, because he had no comments I’d be interested in, I walked out of the prison, passed all the doors and signed the papers, and thought back to my friend.
What I didn't mention to him was that the son she had was his. And that Vivian never really stopped loving him, despite putting him in prison for life.
Three Days Later
Entering Don’s office felt like déjà vu, except this time his bodyguards breathed down my neck. He occupied his chair, whiskey in one hand as usual, while the other held a newspaper, probably studying broker deals he had a good eye for. His eyes filled with anger, as he huffed annoyingly, “What does it take for you to leave my town, Konstantinov?”
Grabbing the chair opposite him, I spun it around and straddled it while pointing over my shoulder to the other men in the room. “Call off your dogs, Don. I won’t leave until we talk. So can we stay civil for fifteen minutes?”
He studied me with an unreadable expression then nodded and clicked his fingers. A second later, the door closed quietly, and we were left alone facing each other.
“You didn't honor our agreement,” I stated calmly—straight to the point approach was always best.
He raised his brow, taking a sip. “And you thought winning a game of poker with me, as impressive as it was, considering no one had done it before, would mean Rosa was yours?” He laughed. “I merely amused myself.”
Deciding not to take the bait and be disrespectful, I calmly replied, “She is it for me.”
The table shook from the blow he delivered with his fist to the middle of it. “It for you? You don’t even know her. You think I believe in this love at first sight shit? Love takes time. This thing you and Damian call love… is madness and obsession,” he finished, and I shrugged.
“I never called it love.” He choked on his drink while I proceeded to explain. “Something shifted inside me when I saw her picture, and I never felt it toward a woman before. But love? I don’t know what that even means.” He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand. “However, I understand your desire to protect her. Like I said before, my intention was never to take her away from you. Allow me to woo her on your land.” His brows rose up in surprise. “Dates, whatever she wants. As long as you don’t say no, it allows her and me to explore whatever this is. I doubt she is against it.”
He pointed an index finger at me. “Watch it.” His thumbs played with each other, as he looked to the side contemplating my words, thinking of a way out, but what he really needed to understand was the fact I gave him a generous pass.
No matter what he suspected, I wasn't some stupid pakhan who craved to destroy his daughter’s life.
Sighing heavily, he nodded, but not before warning, “Hurt her or take her away, we are at war. And real war, at that, Dominic. Don’t ask for mercy.”
Standing up, I threw the papers with the codes and locations on his table. “Better cover this shit up. That’s my woman’s safety we are talking about. But also keep in mind, I’m not known for mercy either.” With that, I left his office, slamming the door loudly, putting on my sunglasses, and murmuring, “Let the games begin.”
Operation: Rosa was in motion.
Too bad the old man would be disappointed.
Rosa
“So according to Charles Darwin, evolution—” The professor kept on clicking on PowerPoint presentation slides as the students in the auditorium looked on with bored expressions on their faces. Some typed on phones, others did homework on their laptops for a different class, but the majority just zoned out of the whole thing. Exhaling heavily, I rested my chin on my palm and hoped the time would go faster, and someone would finish this torture soon.
Yeah, I belonged to the last group. Seriously, why did we have to study the basics in college? All this stuff was covered back in high school, and hardly anyone needed a reminder about evolution.
The auditorium was huge, around a hundred students inside, and it had different levels and a stage. Thankfully, I sat on the right corner, right in the middle, so she wouldn't be able to see whatever I was doing. Opening up Sapphire’s latest book on my lap, I started reading it, eagerly losing myself in the incredible world she created.
A paper slid in front of me, and my eyes focused on the text.
Too bored?
Glancing to my left, I noticed a redheaded guy with an easygoing smile playing with the pencil in his hand, who winked at me. The shorts and shirt he wore showed off his pale skin covered with freckles. Curious, I wrote back, although I was alarmed at the sudden interest.
Who wouldn't be?
He chuckled quietly, replying in a second, while the professor’s voice continued, “Darwin’s theory allowed us to—”
True story. Are you a transfer? I haven't seen you on campus before.
During the last five years, I had plenty of time to study every book there was about medicine, had hands-on experience with Damian’s case, which impressed some doctors who treated him, and as a result, they had recommendation letters ready. Between them and my excellent grades in high school, combined with my exceptional results in the placement exam, the dean had no choice but to admit me at the sophomore level.
Well, I hoped that was the case, and not because his face paled the minute he noticed my surname.
Sort of. You?
Before he could answer, the lights went up and Professor Josie finished her lecture. “That’s it for today, people. Don’t forget to read your syllabus. It’s a summer course, so everything goes faster now. We don’t want you to be behind on anything.” With that, she dismissed the class.
Everyone rose from their seats, picked up their things, and loud noises echoed through the auditorium, along with laughter. My bag felt heavy on my shoulder from all the books I borrowed from the library, but my car wasn't far away, so all was good. I made for the door, completely forgetting about my conversation with the guy, when someone poked me in the back, and I glanced over my shoulder.
“I’m Aaron.” With a goofy smile on his face, he said, “Wanna hang out in the cafeteria? I gathered that since you are new, you could use new friends.”
Getting out of the class while a hundred other students tried to do the same was an impossible task, so with an exasperated sigh, I stood by the wall, waiting for everybody to leave so I could do the same in peace. “Sounds good, but I can’t today.”
He waved a ‘no worries’ gesture and nodded. “Sure, but here is my number in case you need it.”
Honestly, had I not been so tired from the five classes and a sleepless night thinking about my future, I would have found his behavior suspicious, but I simply didn't care at the moment. Shrugging, I took the piece of paper he extended and sent a smile his way. “Thanks.” Noticing the coast was clear, I added, “See you later.” Dragging my feet through various floors, I finally exited the building and breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the breezy weather of New York in July.
; Columbia University had one of the most beautiful campuses in the world in my opinion. It had big buildings that reminded me of museums with their gothic architecture and muted colors. The big grassy field almost created this castle-like feeling, and I loved getting lost there only to discover new places to visit.
However, with all the deadlines I had for my classes, tonight, I preferred to go home and spend some time researching different apartments to rent. Living with my dad was never part of my plan.
My phone vibrated inside my pocket. Taking it out, I slowly walked to the gate.
A few weeks ago, she took me to this bar on the edge of the city located in Brooklyn. Our entire way there on the subway, I was sweating bullets, expecting danger to lurk in every corner, but Frankie just laughed. I seriously preferred to use my feet than the metro with questionable people. Closed spaces were on my shit list after my captivity.
The bar was a small family establishment designed in a wooden cabin style with various mounted-animal trophies, wooden tables and chairs, and a jukebox, which played old rock-and-roll songs when you put a quarter in it.
Shaking my head at her reluctance to ever fall in love again, I didn't watch where I was going and bumped into a hard chest. I would have fallen down, had the strong arms not grabbed me and hugged me tight.
My eyes travelled up from my phone, to a muscled chest in a navy-blue shirt, to Dominic’s face, which was covered in blue Ray Ban shades as he grinned at me. “Krasavica.”