CHAPTER1
Willow
Boston is cold this time of night.
There’s a lackluster breeze in the air, blowing occasionally against my face. I can’t really feel my nose at this point. I’m sure my cheeks are red.
As I walk, something skitters across the sidewalk. I tense, an old reflex, and look down to see bread packaging on the ground. I recognize the bag. There was a loaf on the shelf in the house that I would stare at any time Dmitri opened the cabinet. I was always too terrified to get it myself, even when he wasn’t around.
I pull my arms tighter around my body. Even out here, in the middle of goddamn nowhere, I can’t stop thinking about Dmitri.
The hoodie I’m wearing isn’t good enough for this cold. It’s threadbare at the cuffs, not really long enough to cover my arms. I have it pulled tight beneath my curled fingers. It has to do for now.
But how long is ‘for now’?
There’s a man staring at me from the other side of the street, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. I know that look.
I can’t afford it right now.
It makes my skin itch. I turn down another street quickly, take a hard left away from him and the stupid bread wrapper. I can feel my breaths come shallow and dry. The cold air feels like glass in my throat. It’s so damn cold.
God, I’ve fallen so far.
I was never really the princess I was supposed to be, though. But I was married to Dmitri. That much I can’t deny.
Dmitri Sharp was one of the most powerful men in Boston. He was head of one of the six Assembly families, the people that run the mafia underground of the city. Dmitri was powerful and vicious. He was everything dangerous about the mafia that I was ever warned about.
And I was warned.
Ever since I was a little girl, I was warned. I grew up in New York, around the mafia. My lot in life was always going to be tied to the underworld in some way. For a while, I had dreams of how it would go—dreams about the way my husband would be powerful, how he would fight anyone to keep me safe. I dreamed about a man that was rough but soft for me, caring when he needed to be.
I had all these dreams, and Dmitri was my reality.
Of course, as much as Dmitri was my hell, it didn’t end when he was killed. No. Dmitri was killed, and then even from beyond the grave, he fucked my life up.
Dmitri’s assets went right to me after his death.
You’d think it would be a blessing. Finally having his money, his power, now that he’s gone.
It’s not.
I’ve been hiding in the streets since Dmitri’s death for a reason. I know I’m barely equipped to be out here, despite the plans I’ve always made. I used to look up how to escape and get away with it, back when Dmitri had me locked up in his house. I used to fantasize about leaving.
Now I’m gone and it’s constant hell.
All those assets of Dmitri’s? They’ll catch me if I use them, if I access even one cent.
And everybody wants me right now.
Dmitri’s death left a power vacuum in the criminal underworld of Boston. It’s why I was always terrified of killing him, besides knowing he’d kill me first if I even tried. With Dmitri gone, the scramble for power has begun. And since I control his assets, whoever has me controls all of Dmitri’s money. All his property. Everything.
I hated Dmitri. I’m not sorry he’s dead.
But I don’t want to be a pawn anymore.
I say that, but I can’t help myself when I slip down another alley, a more familiar one. All of these memories aren’t helping me. I keep thinking about all the bad, all the shit, and my brain is spiraling. I can feel it coming on. It’s like circling the drain.
I need a fix. I need something to block out the memories and the fear.