Chapter 2

I feel a rush of goosebumps down my spine and close my eyes for a second to recompose myself. My mind goes through the last few months in a rushed attempt of finding a way out of this situation, but there’s nothing.

I signed my own sentence eight years ago when I escaped my family to save myself and Max.

What do you think Russian Bratva, the feared and powerful Mafia family of Chicago, would say if they found out that one of them got pregnant after an unlucky college graduation? You bet, it wouldn’t be anything nice. At best, they would have kicked me out themselves; at worst, they’d have forced me to get rid of Max even before he was born.

I didn’t want any of this—all I wanted as a college graduate was a peaceful future far from the bloody business of my family. So when I found out that I was pregnant, I ran away without a direction in mind. I knew I had to be unpredictable for Bratva not to find me, so I didn’t go to any friends or, God forbid, family members in other states. I blindly drove up North—and that was how I ended up in Wausau, a city in the middle of Wisconsin.

I had some savings at the time, so I rented a room and found an easy job at a local supermarket. But of course, I knew that it wouldn’t be enough to take care of my child, so I doubled my efforts. It was the most difficult year of my life—but at the same time, I finally felt free. I was allowed to do whatever I wanted without being afraid of getting shot or arrested, and that was all I could ask for at the time.

In the end, I did find a place for myself at a local marketing company, and with my knowledge and willingness to work, it didn’t take long until I was able to earn enough for myself and Max. That was what our life looked like for the past eight years. It was simple and quiet; difficult at times, but nevertheless, good. That is, of course, until my brother showed up on my doorstep.

Two weeks ago, when I came back home after work, I found my door unlocked and the lights in my apartment turned on. Perhaps, I should’ve run away—I knew it was them right away. But Max was at home, so I ran inside instead of turning away. Pavel was there, in the middle of my kitchen, calm as if nothing had happened while Max sat on the floor with his textbook open and his scared gaze fixed on my brother.

I knew Pavel wanted something from me, but I didn’t know just how bad it was.

They wanted me to burn my life into ashes and start anew—but not as a member of Bratva. My family decided that it was time for me to pay for my escape, and instead of simply bringing me back, they wanted me to “fulfill my duty” as Pavel put it.

Yuriy Pushkov, my uncle and the head of Russian Bratva, had made a deal with his lifelong enemies—the Messina Clan of the Italian Mafia. What deal? I still have no idea. But my name was on that paper. The new Don of the Messina Clan wanted to have me as his wife to prove that the agreement between our families was not only on paper but in blood. He wished to have power over me to make sure that Bratva wouldn’t betray him, and my uncle agreed. Without my word, of course.

I never had a say in the whole ordeal, but I refused to believe it at first. I’d already forgotten what it was like to deal with the Mafia.

I told Pavel I wouldn’t do it and even threatened him by calling the police—but he pushed me into the wall and twisted my arm even before I pulled out my phone. Mercy had never been a thing in our family. So it didn’t matter how much Pavel would hurt me, I’d taught myself resilience when I was a child. But I couldn’t let him touch Maxim, and he knew it just as much.

It hurt like hell when Pavel almost broke my wrist, but it was only when Max started crying and Pavel switched his attention to him that I truly got terrified. I couldn’t hide it, and it took Pavel just a few steps in Max’s direction and a firm grasp on his neck to make me freeze. The last thing I wanted was to drag my son into the underworld, so I begged Pavel to leave him alone—which only made it worse.

Pavel threatened to take Max away whether I came with him or not, and it awoke a surge of panic and terror in me. I screamed and tried to attack him, but Pavel had a gun with him. Of course he did. What choice did I have? I was shaking, Max was sobbing, and Pavel was unyielding—it was either me or my son who would go with him.

I took my only chance at saving Max from this. If I did what they wanted, perhaps they’d let him go someday. So I left my life behind and came back to Chicago with Max in my arms to marry our enemy—but if only that was the only problem.

“Are you ready?” Mom fixes my hair as I grip the bouquet of white roses tighter. We stand in the shade of an alcove while guests and members of two Mafia families murmur behind the green hedges. It’s rather cool here among the trees and fragrant bushes, but I feel a rush of nausea at the thought of going out there.

“No,” I tell her honestly, and Mom finally looks me in the eyes. Her smile is only half genuine, but it’s already something.

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

No, it really isn’t, but it’s too late to think about it. Because the musicians start playing, the hum of voices goes quiet in anticipation, and Mom nudges me to go toward Uncle Yuriy.

I sway slightly as soon as I step out of the shade and into the line of sight of all those people, and my hand automatically grabs Yuriy’s elbow. He only glances at me with this ever-present small smirk of his before we both turn to the altar where the Don is already waiting.

My future husband. My nightmare. My first love.

Riccardo Messina.