Page 28 of Born into Darkness

When the casserole is warmed up, Simona and I sit together at the kitchen island. We’re quiet as we force the food down, each bite mechanical and purely done to keep our bodies alive and functioning. I don’t taste a single bite, and when Simona sets her fork down after eating less than half of it, I use my foot to turn her barstool towards me.

“That’s not good enough,sladkaya.”

“I’m not hungry. I can’t force any more down.”

“It’s not enough,” I gently tell her, taking her fork and filling it with the chicken and rice mix. I bring it to her lips and wait for her to open her mouth. “For me,sladkaya, just a few more bites for me.”

She doesn’t want it, I know she doesn’t want it, but she also knows I’m right and that she needs it. When she opens her mouth and takes the bite I’m offering, I let out a relieved sigh and kiss her cheek before filling the fork again. When I try to raise it back up, she shakes her head at me.

“For every bite I take, you have to take one, too.”

I smile at her tone and do as she says. I keep feeding the two of us until she’s managed to eat a little more than half her plate, and then I scoot it away, knowing that’s as much as she can handle.

Putting the rest back in the fridge for Niki, I grab her hand and lead her to our bedroom. She’s exhausted, already looking half-asleep as she grabs a pair of pajamas. I change into sweats and a T-shirt, and before she goes into the bathroom, I tell her I’m going to check on Niki.

Fatigue hits me hard as I walk to the other side of the penthouse, making me feel twenty years older than I am. Being careful to not wake our youngest, I quietly crack the door open, wanting to take a quick peek inside. I’m expecting a dark room and a son who’s asleep, and instead I get a fully lit room and my youngest with his head buried in his laptop.

“Niki,” I start to say, wondering if I’m going to have to give him something to help him sleep, but then he turns to look at me and all the air goes out of my lungs. His grey eyes are bloodshot, and it’s obvious he’s been crying. “Fuck,” I whisper, walking to sit on the edge of his bed. Resting my hand on the back of his neck, I ask the question that I already know the answer to. “You saw the video?”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t want you to see that.”

His voice is quiet, and he sounds broken when he says, “You should know by now that you can’t keep secrets from me, Dad.”

That earns him a scowl from me, but we both know he’s right. As good as I am with computers, my son is better. Max took to the piano like his mom, and Niki is even better with computers than I am. I’ve never seen anything like it. His mind is brilliant and terrifying all at the same time. He could literally take down huge companies in an afternoon or plant enough evidence to destroy anyone on the planet. No one is untouchable to him, and I’m thrilled he’s in our family and not against it. He’d make one hell of an enemy, and I’m curious to see what he does with his gift when he officially joins the Bratva.

Right now, though, he’s just my youngest son, heartbroken over the video of his brother he’s just seen. I wrap my arm around him and pull him closer. He allows himself the comfort of a hug for just a couple of seconds before he straightens up and grabs his laptop.

“Here,” he says, turning the screen so I can see it.

My throat tightens when I see what he’s been busy doing. I scroll through the list of orthopedic surgeons he’s made.

“The first one on the list is the best orthopedic surgeon in the state, and he specializes in hands. Right next door to his office is a rehabilitation center. After Max has surgery, they’ll be able to help him get his dexterity back. I was reading about how hands can heal after dislocations, even well enough for musicians to keep playing after injuries. There are even a few pianists who manage to play with missing fingers.” His voice breaks on the last few words, and after he takes a breath, he adds, “Max is good enough to recover from this. He has enough talent to overcome the injuries.”

I pull him close again and kiss the top of his head. “You’re a good brother, Niki.”

“I’m going with you tomorrow.”

“You are not,” I tell him.

He pulls back and gives me a look that makes me forget he’s only seventeen. It’s weary and full of sorrow, but beneath that is a rock-solid determination that has me quickly shaking my head again. “It’s too dangerous,” I tell him.

“You won’t be able to pull it off without me,” he says. “You won’t be able to handle all the behind-the-scenes shit and go in and get Max. You’re going to need me to dismantle their security system, hack into the communication channels and scramble them, and alert you if the cartel tries to bring in reinforcements. I’m going, Dad. With me there you stand a better chance of pulling this off. You and I both know it.”

I want to argue. I want to insist that he’s wrong and that the best thing is for him to stay here with his mom so he’s guarded and safe, but I can’t lie to him. He already knows the truth anyway. We need him, and, yeah, we might be able to pull it off without him, but it might also mean losing more men, and I can’t take that risk. Max will never forgive himself if one of his cousins or uncles dies trying to rescue him.

“Fine,” I say, and then add, “but you’re staying on the boat and I’m leaving several men with you.”

He nods his agreement, knowing there’s no point in arguing for more. I understand his need to be there, and I’d be doing the same thing if I were him. I’m just about to insist that he get some sleep when I hear a gut-wrenching wail of a scream that instantly stops my heart and makes my stomach drop. I’m out the door in seconds, running down the hall with Niki right on my heels. Simona lets out another moan, and when I hit our bedroom and see her curled on the floor with my phone gripped in her hand, our son’s face on the screen, mouth open in an agonizing scream as another one of his fingers is pulled from its joint, I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her shaking body.

Niki quickly grabs the phone and shuts it off, but I swear I still hear Max’s screams mixing with my wife’s sobs. Her pain becomes my pain, and I feel it radiating through every cell in my body. The guttural, primal moans coming from her are beyond words—it’s just pure agony, a mother’s heart being ripped from her chest at the sight of her child being hurt. The sound of it is so intense that tears run down my own cheeks, my body unable to resist the pull of her pain.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, repeating the words over and over again until her body goes slack in my arms, too exhausted to do anything but stare numbly at her now empty hand. Stroking her hair from her face, I tilt her head up, forcing her to meet my eyes, and the shattered look in hers has me letting out my own groan of pain. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper again. “I never wanted you to see that.”

Her words are nothing but a shaky whisper when she says, “You knew this whole time, didn’t you? You’ve been carrying this around this whole time?”

“The video was sent a few hours ago. I never wanted you or Niki to see it.” I pull her against my chest and kiss her head. “I knew you’d see the condition he was in when we got him home, but I knew it would be easier for you to handle when you had him alive and in front of you.”

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