Prologue

For the millionth time since my father betrayed me, I wonder what it would be like to end his life.

Most children don't dream of patriarchal homicide, but I'm not like most children.

I'm one who has been burned one too many times by a man who only puts faith in the dick swinging between your legs.

Seeing as I was born without outdoor plumbing, I'm worthless to him. At least, until he needs something.

Like now.

Instead of living my miserable life back in Russia, he has summoned me to America. Chicago, to be exact.

If I had thought I would have any freedoms, I would have been wrong. I gave up hoping for anything more than the existence I've been forced to live with my entire life. When you hope for more, you get disappointed.

So walking into this meeting with my father, I had no expectations.

No. Scratch that. I expect it to be terrible.

The worst.

He's probably arranged a marriage for me. Or worse, he wants to use my body to barter with another gangster.

That's what he did with my older sister. He used her body over and over until it held no worth. Then he sold her off to the first suitor who would take the damaged goods off his hands.

I learned from her mistakes, though. I kept my head down. I never asked for anything. I tried to disappear completely, and for a while, it worked.

Father took off with my younger brother for America and left me under lock and key in Russia.

Until yesterday when he summoned me.

I stand outside an office door, waiting for the guard who brought me here to come back out. He doesn't make me wait long.

"Prikhodit."

I ignore his hand, walking past him. They know better than to touch me, but this particular guard has been trying to be handsy the entire trip. He's obviously new. Father might like to use his children as pawns, but it doesn't mean he likes others touching what he views as his.

As soon as I pass him, I see my father. He's sitting in a large chair behind a desk meant for a king. My father is no king, though. Only a leader of sorts under the pakhan.

"Nikita. Have a seat," my father says in English.

That's a red flag waving in front of me. My father never spoke English back home, so why is he now?

"Otets," I acknowledge him, calling him the formal name of Father that he requires.

"You are in America. Speak English. Drawing attention to yourself by speaking the home language would be unwise."

"Yes, Father," I manage with my thick accent.

He forced me to learn English in my studies, but I have not used it in years.

"You have been summoned because I have a very important task for you. You see, our pakhan has made a grave mistake. He angered the Yakuza, and they are seeking retribution. I've been able to secure a deal with their leader to allow us to stay in the city unscathed."

I swallow hard. I'm not sure if I'm hoping for marriage or just the unwanted sex. Which would really be worse?

He stares me down, but my blank facade is fully in place. No matter how much I'm freaking out inside, I'd never let it show. That would be to show weakness. Weakness makes you vulnerable. Weakness gets you killed.

"This Yakuza man does not trust us, as he shouldn't. He has requested collateral, so I offered you. You will go with them and do whatever they ask. You will gain intel for us. When the time is right, I will collect you, and we will make our move. I am your new pakhan, you understand?"

"Yes, Father," I repeat the only words he wants to hear.

"Good. You will not see or hear from me but know that I will always be watching. Even though my men are not there and you do not see the bars of your cage, they will always be there. Disobey me or betray me, and I will ensure you live a long and happy life with gospozha."

I shiver. Gospozha is the nickname the community gave the ruthless woman who runs the brothel back in Moscow. She's old and mean, but she always has been known to provide encouragement in the form of drugs. The thought of being forced to become addicted to drugs is enough to ensure I will do anything he says.

I nod my head once.

"Very good. Go be the fly on the wall you've trained to be your entire life."

With that, my marching orders have been issued.

There is no choice but to obey them.

As much as I hate being his pawn, I will hate being a whore even more.

So with one last look at my father, I walk out of the room and to my destiny.

All I can hope is that if I fail, these Yakuza will kill me before my father gets a hold of me.

I might not be free, but I have time to figure out a way to find my freedom.

In this moment, I make myself a vow.

I will never go back to Russia again.