Given to Madness

by Fox, Winter

  My fashion choices were motivated by necessity, rather than vanity these days.

  Ilya would be proud.

  “Mama. It’s snowing.”

  My eyes flickered back to the small boy sitting next to me. His angelic face peered out from beneath at least five different layers of clothing, and I fought back a giggle—he looked like a little, pink burrito.

  Wrapping my arms underneath my son’s arms, I hauled him up on to my knee, fixing his hood so that it wasn’t covering his black eyes. “How many clothes did your grandmother put on you today, Andrei?”

  “Babushka said not to catch a cold today.” He spoke slowly, forming each word with care, and concentration.

  “Or on any day.” I frowned at him. Wondering for the thousandth time how it was possible to love this tiny little person so very, very much.

  He leaned forward to plant a kiss on my lips, and I was glad to discover that he was toasty warm. I was grateful for the wonderful woman who had supported me ever since the day she lost her son. The woman I now had the honor to be able to call mother.

  Alessio and me had thought that we were going to be the ones taking care of Ilya’s mother and sister when we got to Vienna. But we couldn’t have been further from the truth. His mother—Anna—was a formidable matriarch, and she had taken charge of almost everything.

  Matteo had instantly fallen in love with her, which was fortunate since Coleen had returned to America once she knew that my family were safe. I would always be grateful for the service which Coleen had done my family in making sure that we got to Vienna safely, and Alessio had paid her well in severance when we said farewell.

  Matteo was now a precocious sixteen-year old, who wanted to be a lawyer. Although we were certain the only reason that he wanted to pursue that career path was because he was fascinated with Ilya’s sister.

  Dina was now twenty-one, and she was in the process of studying to become a human rights lawyer. She was determined to return to Siberia one day, and work to help children who had been drafted into gangs in the same way that her brothers’ had. She and I had become very good friends.

  Alessio had struggled with adjusting to a crime free life. After all, it was the only thing that he’d ever known. But once he met, and fell deeply in love with Lena—his now wife—the past became history. And my brother had invested in several bars and restaurants, meaning that our whole family were financially taken care of.

  “Mama. A plane.” Andrei waved his bemittened little hands towards the cold, blue sky above.

  I looked up at the plane, wondering where it had come from, or where it was going to.

  “Where is it going, Mama?” Andrei’s thoughts clearly mirrored my own.

  I pressed the side of my face against his, squeezing him tightly against me. Despite the layers of clothing, I was still terrified that he might be cold. But he wasn’t. He was a warm, happy little bundle, and quite content to sit on my knee.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. Perhaps somewhere warm. Somewhere without snow.”

  He wrinkled his tiny nose at me, and squinted up at the sky. Even at three and half, he was already entirely his father’s son. His black eyes, tan skin, and dark hair made him a perfect little replica of Ilya. Even his lips bowed in the same full way that his fathers did.

  I hadn’t been in Vienna for very long when I had realized that Ilya had left me with more than just a broken heart. I was violently ill every single day from around four weeks into my pregnancy, up until I was almost sixteen weeks gone. It had been very obvious what was going on with me, and Ilya’s mother had been the first to spot it.

  I quickly realized that while mine and Ilya’s short time running for our lives, had been conducive to passionate, and live for the moment sex—it hadn’t been so good for me remembering to take my contraceptive.

  Andrei had been the end result.

  And this little boy was everything to me.

  “Mama. Look” His little voice pitched upward in excitement. He was looking along the frozen riverbank. The plane up above, clearly forgotten.

  I looked in the direction of Andrei’s frantically pointing little hand, and I bit my lower lip in anxiety. There was a tall, broad man walking along the side of the river—heading straight for us. He wore a thick, heavy coat—similar to mine—the hood pulled tightly around his face.

  He wore the coat like a second skin, and he walked through the freezing Vienna air as though he was born into minus temperatures.

  As though he was born in Siberia.

  “Is that Papa?”

  How Andrei recognized his father when he was wrapped up like a yeti, I would never know. But I had been showing my son pictures of his Papa ever since the very first day that he was born. Determined that my child would grow up knowing what an amazing man his daddy was.

  Ilya had been shot another two times after Alessio had bundled me into the car, and driven me away from the cabin. I had screamed and cried all the way to the plane, and then I had fallen into a deep depressive state, which really lasted until my son was born.

  Alessio did the only thing that he could think of, to try and save Ilya from the Five. He called the cops, and reported the fight. He may have also dropped Mariusz’s name into the equation—ensuring a rapid, and well-armed police response.

  Everyone was arrested, although Ilya was sent to spend the next three months recovering in the ICU. The doctors wrote him off, convinced that he would die. But they didn’t know him like I knew him, and as soon as I got word of my pregnancy to him, he had improved in leaps and bounds.

  The police gave Ilya a choice then. Testify against the other members of the Five, and help to send them to prison, forever. In return he would receive an eight-year prison sentence in the US which would be reduced to parole after four-years.

  The other option was to stand firm with the Five, and the feds would extradite him to Russia—where he would probably serve out a life sentence in a Siberian jail.

  I don’t think Ilya’s pride would have let him take the bargain. Even the knowledge of the hell that awaited him in Siberia wouldn’t have been enough. But knowing that he had both me and his son depending on him coming home—that was what tipped the balance in our favor.

  Ilya was released on parole yesterday, and this bench, on this riverbank was the exact spot at which we had agreed to meet today. So, as I watched the large figure approaching, I became certain that my son was right.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Yes, that’s your Papa.”

  He wriggled, and kicked his little feet until I reluctantly let him down, and he stumbled the last few feet toward the man who towered over him.

  “Papa. Papa,” Andrei cried, and I felt my own cheeks dampen with tears.

  The tall man didn’t hesitate, he bent down and swept my son up into his huge arms, then he lifted a hand to swipe back his faux-furred hood. As he revealed his face my breath caught in my throat, and I leaped to my feet. He looked exactly the same.

  Andrei delightedly placed two tiny hands against his fathers’ cheeks, and laid a tender kiss on the end of his nose.

  “I love you, Papa,” he cried, with the absolute unquestionable devotion that only a child can offer to a parent.

  Ilya managed to only look stunned for a second; before he cuddled his son in his huge arms. “I love you too, little man.”

  Then his black gaze met mine, and the world around us fell away, as he reached out to pull me into his embrace. Still holding Andrei securely in his right arm, Ilya’s left arm snaked around my waist and his lips crushed against mine.

  He tried to be gentle, and chaste. But although he’d had hours of counselling—which had helped him to gain control of his temper, and his urges—during his time in prison. He would always carry a little darkness inside him.

  I lost myself in the kiss, leaning back and letting him take complete possession of me. I hadn’t even been in the same room as him in four years—I couldn’t travel back to the US, in case Dante’s men were still l
ooking for me. So, experiencing his touch for the first time in so long, set my entire being on fire.

  Pulling his head back a little, he stared down at me in something like awe.

  “I honestly didn’t think that you would wait for me,” he rasped.

  I blinked through my tears. “I would never stop waiting for you.”

  “I love you so much, milaya,” he murmured.

  “I love you too.” I whispered, My soul finally feeling complete.

  He smiled at me then, and his eyes flickered back to Andrei—who was tapping his tiny palms ferociously against Ilya’s head. Trying to get his father’s attention.

  Ilya growled playfully, and tickled Andrei’s tummy, making the small boy gurgle out laughter.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit afraid of me?” Ilya asked our son.

  Andrei grinned, shaking his head from side to side. “Nope.”

  I stifled a laugh, as Ilya shook his own head, and his black eyes captured my gaze. “He really is just as brave, and stubborn as his mother.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  Winter is a lifelong fan of the Dark Romance genre, and in 2018 she decided to try her hand at writing it. The idea for Black Wings quickly formed, and the book became a reality in January 2019.

  Winter now describes herself as an author, lover of bad boys, and mother of cats!

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