Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Alexei glances at the images, haunted, and breaks down all over again. I take it upon myself to bring up the surveillance video from the club. The same video of the day he was humiliated in front of his Vory brothers. When it begins to play, he makes an effort to watch.
“I had Mischa look at it.” I bring the cursor to a time stamp on the screen and click on it. “It’s on a loop. Whoever it was knew what they were doing. They were fast, and they came prepared.”
“How long?” he asks.
“Thirty seconds maximum. You couldn’t have noticed it, Lyoshka. It was very well edited.”
He falls back into his office chair as reality settles over him. Someone wanted him to believe it was Talia who betrayed him, but in truth, it was one of his own Vory.
I take a seat across from his desk. “There is something else.”
“What is it?”
“Katya’s guard mentioned that she visited a security store a few months back. He didn’t know what she purchased but found the trip out of character for her.”
“Then we need to talk to her.” Alexei nearly stumbles over himself as he tries to stand.
I signal him to sit back down. “I already tried. She was found dead this morning, bratan. Hanging from a rafter in her ceiling.”
Alexei flops back into his seat and reaches for the bottle of cognac, only to realize that it’s empty.
“She wasn’t working alone,” I tell him. “Someone is cleaning up loose ends. Katya is not smart enough to set up that slideshow, and she was not in the building that day.”
My words settle over Alexei like a dark cloud, and it doesn’t take him long to draw the same conclusion I have. He sinks back, eyes darkening as he utters the name we have both come to hate.
“Sergei.”
“Niki.”
Gianni takes a seat on the park bench beside me, tapping out a message on his phone before he turns his attention to me. I grab another handful of oats from the plastic bag in my lap, carefully dividing it among the ducks as I throw it.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he remarks.
I look up at the clouds, clear and blue. The sun warms my face, and I think that it’s always a beautiful day in Florida. It’s a different kind of heat, though. Muggy and thick. It’s hard to adjust to, just like everything else about my new life.
“How are you doing?” Gianni asks. “Anything new to report?”
“I’m fine.” I shrug. “Nothing new to report. Every day is the same.”
And it is. I go to work, and I don’t talk to anyone over the age of eight. When I’m finished, I go straight back to my apartment and turn on the television or the radio just to avoid the numbing silence. My life in witness protection is not all that different than it was before. It’s still a prison, just a different kind.
“It’s an adjustment,” Gianni insists. “It takes time, but things will get better.”
“I thought it would be different.” I crumple the empty bag in my hand and toss it into the bin beside us.
“Everyone has an idea of what it will be like, but it’s important to follow the rules. They’re in place for a reason, and they keep you safe.”
“I’m not talking about the program,” I mutter. “I’m just talking about the world.”
Gianni takes a sip from his travel mug. Coffee black, just the way he always drinks it. I’ve come to know that about him. Recently, I’ve come to know a lot of things about him. For example, he chews with his mouth open. And he still wears a gold chain, even when he’s not pretending to be a gangster. But the most obvious thing I’ve learned is that he really just wants to be a hero.
He sighs and leans back, drumming his fingers on the park bench. “I suppose it’s a grass is greener on the other side sort of situation. In your case, though, the grass really is greener. But it’ll take time to see that.”
I don’t know if I believe that. My new world is everything I imagined. I have the freedom to come and go as I please, within reason. I can choose my own meals. I can dance whenever I want. I have a job, and I have a purpose. But I had to sell my father out to get here. Something that when I was at home, suffering at his hands, seemed like a good idea. Gianni approached me when he knew I was at my lowest. He saw my vulnerability, and he struck like a python, squeezing until I caved in.
Does my father deserve to go to prison? Undoubtedly. But do I want to be the one to stand up and testify against him? Absolutely not.
I’m empty inside, and the worst part is that I feel like everyone I’ve ever loved has betrayed me.