Chapter 9 - Leon

Blood stains the intricate rug, obscuring the pattern in the weave as I point the gun at Antonio's dead body while my men cover him with a sheet.

His wife and sons are heaped up on my right; their blood seeps over the ground to Antonios.

Blood splatters on the walls and windows, the screams still echoing in my ears as Antonio watched me kill his wife and two sons first.

I ignored his pleas; I hated him.

Pavel would not have begged for mercy, but even if he had, Antonio wouldn't have cared.

I showed him no mercy when I took his family away from him. My only regret is that I didn't torture them first to make him really suffer.

For the first time in my life, my hand trembles as I hold the gun. My finger is still wrapped around the trigger, and I'm unsure I could lower my arm if I wanted to.

There is a deep emptiness in my chest as I stare down at the corpses.

Revenge is sweet, but it doesn't fill the hole gaping in my chest for far too long. The hole in the shape of my brother that Antonio left there when he killed Pavel.

Boris comes up to me, prying the gun out of my hand, and tucks it in the back of his waistband. He clears his throat.

Although I turn my head toward him, I don't feel like I'm looking at him. None of this feels real.

My chest heaves. "What is it?"

Boris motions to the side, and one of the men steps forward with a little girl in front of him.

The little girl looks up at me with big brown eyes and chubby cheeks. Her hair hangs in pigtails, and thick tears roll down her cheeks as she looks at the bodies around her. Although they are all covered with sheets, blood is still seeping through the white fabric.

I don't know if she fully registers what's happening, and I don't care.

"Gun." I hold out my hand to Boris.

He swallows hard but pulls out the gun, handing it back to me.

The girl flinches and bumps into the man behind her before jolting to the side. She looks around as if searching for an opportunity to run away.

I don't know where the child intends to go when she escapes, but I admire the determined look in her eyes.

"We found her hiding in the basement," Boris says, tilting his body slightly so that he stands between me and the girl. "Her name is Natalya Reyes. She belonged to Antonio, but his wife was not her mother."

I stare down at the girl as she peeks around Boris' leg.

When I came here today, I swore that I would kill anyone related to Antonio. I wanted to destroy his entire bloodline to avenge my brother.

But I can"t bring myself to do it when the girl's jaw forms a hard line, and the tears dry.

She is innocent and not old enough to understand what is going on. She doesn"t know what her father was involved in or how he lived. She wouldn't know that he tore my entire world to pieces.

I shove the gun into my waistband and hide it under my bloodstained shirt before crouching down in front of her. "Why were you in the basement, Natalya?"

"Daddy told me to wait down there."

I motion her forward, and she steps from behind Boris's legs. "Well, your daddy had to go on a long trip, far, far away. He won"t be coming home for a very long time. He"s taken your mommy and your brothers with him."

The tears are back in her eyes, and her lower lip trembles. "Send me away, too."

Her sobs fill the room and tug at my heart, cutting through my numbness.

***

The penetrating ringing of the alarm clock cuts through the remnants of my dream and intensifies the pain in my head. Reality invades me–a puzzle of fragmented memories–and I struggle with the harshness between sleep and wakefulness.

I sit up in bed and press my palms against my eyes as if to protect myself from the memory. It's been years since I last dreamed of that day. Time has woven its threads, but some knots cannot be untangled.

It was my right to persecute Antonio, and it gave me pleasure. It was my right to retribution. Pavel's blood was on his hands, and Antonio and his family had to be wiped out.

And now, I must live with the guilt I still feel when I think of that little girl.

That day, I avenged Pavel, but I ruined her life.

In all the years that have passed, I haven't been able to get her sobs out of my head. I tried everything I knew that day to get them to stop, but she only cried harder.

Even Boris tried to soothe her. He took her to a woman he was seeing and asked her to look after Natalya until I could make arrangements for the little girl"s disappearance.

I toss back the sheets, the faint waft of perfume still clinging to them, even though it's been four weeks since that beautiful woman was in my bed.

No matter how often I wash the sheets, she clings to me like my nightmare.

I leave the bed unmade, go to the bathroom, and splash cold water on my face. The icy shock does not dispel the memory.

In all the years, I've killed men, but that day is the one that still haunts me, and I know it's because of the little girl with the big brown eyes.

Would I still have killed Antonio if I had known about the girl beforehand? Yes. I know I would have done it.

I take a deep breath and cling to the edge of the sink. "I shouldn't still be dreaming about this fifteen years later."

It wasn"t easy to get her to Russia, especially since Sergey was still out for blood and wanted to make sure we killed the entire bloodline of Antonio's family.

Nevertheless, Boris put the little girl on a plane in the middle of the night. He took her to an orphanage and dropped her off there. He instructed the woman in charge to call him if anyone was interested in the girl.

Over the last fifteen years, I—through Boris—have looked after the child's welfare. I have made sure that she has a good life, even if that means hiding her in a foreign country where no one will ever get their hands on her.

All I want is to live my life, to be free from the nightmare, but I know that won't happen until I find peace in my heart.

Boris knocks on the door and looks at me in the mirror. "Everything all right in here? I was going to tell you the car was waiting, but you look like you're not ready for another family meeting just yet."

I grab a white towel, wipe the last of the water from my face, and straighten up. "I don't think I have a choice, do I?"

That is a rhetorical question. I know that as one of the top heads of the Bratva, I have no choice. I love the life I get to live, except when the past comes back to haunt me every now and then.

Boris frowns and steps aside as I leave the bathroom and head for the closet. "Did you have that dream again?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it stopped years ago."

I pull out one of my dark blue suits and get dressed. "Well, it hasn't. You're still sending the money to Marina every month, aren"t you?"

"Every month on the first. All the transfers have gone through to my knowledge."

Nodding, I grab a tie, put it on, and smooth it out under my buttoned jacket before combing my hair to style it back.

"Enough talk about the girl." I nod toward the stairs and wait for Boris to go down first. "The last thing I need is for my family to know the truth about her."

"Do you think it would be bad? It's been years since the incident."

As I look at him, my eyebrows draw together, and my mouth twists into a deep frown. "Have you ever seen my brother forgive those who have wronged him?"

"Well, you might have a point there."

"Of course I do."

That secret will follow me to the grave no matter what Boris may believe.