Kaznachei’s Pain

by Mason, V. F.

  I resumed crawling, but when a curtain fell, blocking the only viable exit, I knew I wouldn’t be able to climb over it.

  I coughed on the smoke then breathed into my shirt and searched for a way out but couldn’t locate anything.

  It seemed like the end after all. All these years, I’d hated and despise the Bratva for the lifestyle and blamed them for everything. But in truth, they were my everything and always had my back. Had I listened to Dominic, I would never have been in this situation.

  Vasya gave me a family that didn’t turn their back on me, no matter how much shit I put them through over the years.

  A family that would take care of my son if I died.

  The thought settled something inside me, allowing me to say a prayer for the last time and find goodness even in death. Because I would meet my upryamaya.

  What a dramatic ending though.

  And then something changed. I could feel the shift in the energy as a loud crash echoed off the walls with people shouting my name.

  Most prominent was Jaxon’s voice. “Fuck, Killian, he’s over there. Help me. Duncan, hold the door. Douglas, point the fucking fire hose on this.”

  He’d brought all his siblings to save my ass?

  Steam filled the window as water soaked the frame and Jaxon and Killian hopped through it to me. They helped me up from each side, hooking my arms over their shoulders. “Duncan, guide us.” I could barely hear anything they said, and in what felt like forever, they dragged me outside where I gulped as much fresh air as possible while Tony, another of Jaxon’s most trusted right-hand men and a doctor, kneeled next to me, cursing. “He needs to go to the hospital.”

  “You don’t say?” Jaxon said sarcastically, but then turned his attention to me. “You are not allowed to die, Yuri.”

  A smile graced my lips, as I replied, “Your debt has been paid.”

  He shook his head, but then hugged my head close. “I’m glad you are alive, man.”

  I wasn’t though.

  Because I had to face a lifetime without her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Melissa

  My eyes fluttered open and then closed immediate when pain followed, sending swirling sensations down my spine and through my entire body as if lightning had struck me. I tried to lift my hand to at least check the source of the pain, but couldn’t do it since it was attached to the bed.

  Breathing heavily, I willed my eyes to open again and adjust to the bright light that could blind anyone. My blurry eyes watered, and I gasped, only then realizing a mask was blocking my breathing.

  What the hell happened?

  And then memories hit me like a ton of bricks, bringing back one gory image after another as fear and desperation settled more and more inside my heart.

  Doctors.

  How they injected something into me.

  Right as they cut my baby out of me.

  No!

  I sat up and cried out, my stomach hurting like someone had ripped it in two, but I didn’t care. My baby, what did they do with my baby?

  Then I felt strong hands grabbing my shoulders and pressing me back to the bed. I thrashed around, trying to get free, but they wouldn’t let me. I heard voices above me while machines beeped loudly and more people filled the room.

  Finally, they inserted a needle into my neck, and in seconds, everything ended.

  A Few Days Later

  Melissa

  “Here you go, honey,” the nurse said, placing the tray of food on the table in front of me, a bright smile on her face.

  The minute she took a step back, I threw it away. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, food splattering in different directions, and the freshly made coffee spilled in a brown pool near her feet.

  Her lips thinned and fury flashed in her eyes, but she controlled it, took a deep breath, and still kept the fucking fake smile as she picked up the tray and walked toward the door. “You shouldn’t be this difficult,” she said over her shoulder and left me alone in the room to scream in frustration, ignoring the sting of pain in my abdomen.

  In the last few days, I’d grown used to it.

  My eyes drank in again my spacious room with its hospital bed, a chair next to it, various beeping machines that indicated my rapid heartbeat and other stuff. A TV was on the opposite wall, as if I wished to be entertained here.

  And not one single window, only grey walls that pressed in on me as if suffocating me.

  For days I’d asked for answers, fought doctors who stayed silent, and when I didn’t comply with their orders, they just injected me with shit that knocked me out.

  My body didn’t listen to me, too weak for anything, and the last time I managed to get out of bed, I fell on the floor, opening up my abdominal wound again. As a result, they had to patch me up once more.

  While staying fucking silent.

  My voice became hoarse from constant cries and demands to see my baby, and every time they had no information for me, I died a little bit more inside.

  Tears slid down my cheeks that I didn’t even bother wiping away as I screamed again. “Tell me where my baby is, you bastards!” I had no respect for those who worked for Yuri’s father; they could all rot in hell for all I cared.

  Not to mention that this fucker was trying to get me healthy, and it made zero sense to me. Why would he do that? Wasn’t his aim to bring me pain?

  I was about to throw the nearby remote at the door when it opened and my hand paused midair.

  I gaped in shock at the man in front of me.

  He smirked, but it barely lifted his fire-scarred face, which reminded me more of a permanent grimace. He shut the door behind him and walked to the chair, while all I could do was follow his movements.

  I hadn’t seen him in years, and those years hadn’t been kind to him. His ginger hair was almost buzz cut while his ripped physique could barely contain the shirt that threatened to tear open with each movement. Tattoos covered his neck and hands.

  And scars. So many scars that appeared to have been inflicted by a knife, and burns that made my eyes water when I imagined it.

  After all, he was my childhood friend.

  He cleared his throat, and my attention snapped back to his face as he finally spoke. “I always thought we’d meet again under different circumstances, but oh well. You just can’t stay put.” A pause and then. “How do you feel?”

  I blinked several times to make sure it was truly him, and replied, “I think that’s kind of a stupid question considering the circumstances.” I couldn’t continue talking, as my throat felt scratchy and I could barely croak anything.

  I wrapped my hands around my neck, and he understood at once; he rose and opened a bottle on the table and then gave it to me.

  I drank it down, enjoying the relief it provided, and asked, “It’s you who kept me here all this time?” He nodded. “What do you want, Arden?” I finally addressed the heir of the Irish mob, and a sad smile graced his lips.

  “It was time for you to come home, Edana.”

  My heart stopped as air rushed out of my lungs.

  He’d brought me back to the one place I vowed to never return.

  To Ireland.

  Moscow, Russia

  July 2018

  Yuri

  The loud cry of the baby snapped me awake. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the bedside table.

  Three in the fucking morning.

  Exhaling heavily, I pushed back the blanket and got up, cracking my neck from side to side as I walked towards the door of the adjoining nursery.

  He apparently had trouble sleeping during the night, just like his father.

  The minute Melissa entered my thoughts, the air in my lungs froze, but I kept on going, because it had been five months.

  A man had to learn to breathe again at some point, especially when there was a baby who needed me.

  I stepped inside the bedroom, where soft blue light bathed the room in a peaceful atmosphere. Various artists’ paintings
adorned the walls, with the name Artur painted above the crib.

  It had all the shit for babies so I could change his diapers and stuff, and although Vivian explained it all to me, I didn’t listen. Who cared? I was a guy. I only cared what it provided, not the fucking name.

  Leaning down to him, I saw Artur fisting his hands tightly. His face scrunched in displeasure and he kicked his legs as cries slipped past his lips. “Hey, little guy,” I murmured, and slid my hands under his diapered bottom and back and lifted him up to my chest as he continued whimpering, but with less vigor.

  He had eaten an hour ago and his diaper was dry, so the only reason he fussed was because he needed attention. As odd as it sounded, once each night, he woke up only for this purpose.

  To have more time with his old man. I chuckled as I imagined him calling me that.

  Picking up the blanket from the rocking chair, I sat and arranged it on my chest. I cradled him in my arms, his head tucked against my chest, and I patted his back gently. “Can’t sleep, huh?” He smacked his lips against each other, and I held him closer then closed my eyes, inhaling his scent.

  Turned out I needed this connection as much as he did, because during those times, I got peace.

  If only for a second.

  I rocked the chair as he slowly dozed off on me, my heartbeat probably calming him down, while I wondered about the last five months of my life.

  Once I’d healed, I travelled through Europe, going to hell and back searching for the men with tattoos, the fuckers who must have dealt with my father and needed those codes. For months, I functioned on two hours of sleep, junk food, and constant coffee just to keep going, revenge and fury fueling my system.

  But it stopped when one day in my motel room Dominic waited for me with my son’s picture and told me he was admitted back into the hospital. It wasn’t a rare occurrence with premature babies, but it seemed Artur had stopped responding to anyone.

  “I have no idea what you are going through, Yuri, and I pray I will never find out. But you have a son. A son. A little person who needs you. It’s a dead end. I promise we will never stop looking for these men you are after, but if you continue, your son will have no father either.”

  Anger swept through me as I faced him, gulping whiskey like it was fucking water, and slurred at him, “The house is full of bitches and not one of them can watch over my son?” His punch to my face came immediately, not that I expected anything else.

  No one disrespected Dominic’s woman.

  Blood slipped through my fingers as I held my nose, and he continued, “Artur doesn’t need Bratva. He needs his father. Fucking man up and be one.”

  Once back, I’d purchased the house next to Radmir’s family, because it was good to have them close by. Vivian was practically raising my kid, and she had lots of advice ready for me.

  As good as I was with math and everything else, I knew jack shit about babies. All those books didn’t prepare me for the reality.

  Then everyone decorated the nursery, and by everyone, I meant the women who made it their mission to check on us constantly.

  I didn’t mind, as they watched Artur during work. But at night, when it was the two of us, the dark-haired beauty came to my mind and forever stayed there, as there was no running away from the pain in the darkness.

  He started in my arms and fussed again, whimpering and exhaling heavily. Because it was clear he wouldn’t go to sleep until I did what he wanted. It was one of the things no one knew about, my little secret that kept me sane.

  I placed my phone on my lap, found the audio in my messages, and pressed Play, and in a second, Melissa’s voice echoed in the space. Artur stilled in my arms, listening intently. “I can’t believe you did this, Yuri! What were you thinking? I don’t like all this stuff in my apartment. It’s obnoxious, and why the hell would a small baby need all those toys? You are…” It was one of her messages where she was displeased with my spending habits, and it worked like a charm on both of us.

  Artur would have known her voice before he was born, and it always had the power to calm him down, and after that, he could almost sleep through the night.

  Never underestimate the connection between a mother and her child.

  We rocked gently back and forth, both lullabied by Melissa’s voice, and I thought this could be enough.

  It would have to be enough for the rest of my life.

  Or so I thought.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dublin, Ireland

  Melissa, 17 years old

  “Hurry up!” I called over my shoulder, running with all my might through the forest while my lungs burned from the exertion. I couldn't believe my plan had worked and I’d managed to sneak out with Arden and avoid our security.

  While I would have preferred to go alone, he wouldn't have let me. He was always like a hawk, measuring each of my movements and not letting me out of his sight. The perks of growing up with him I guess, since his father was the head of the Irish mob in our city.

  “They will be mad!” he screamed after me, but sped up to join me at the lake that opened up before us.

  The beautiful blue water glistened in the sunset, the warm orange color merging them into one, while the greenest grass surrounded the lake, and a soft breeze touched my cheeks, bringing bubbling laughter from within me.

  Arden breathed heavily while resting his hand on my shoulder, and complained, “Warn a guy next time!”

  My father and his had worked in the mob for a year side by side, fighting their enemies and protecting the brotherhood. Although Uncle Aiden always offered Dad a higher position, he preferred to be an enforcer and live his peaceful life with the family. We had a beautiful house with a huge garden that we could spend hours and hours in doing various things. Mama and my sister mostly spent their time knitting, as it was their favorite hobby, but I made good use of Dad’s archery and gun collections. All this girly shit didn't interest me much, but I wouldn't call myself a tomboy.

  Besides school, we weren't allowed to go out much, so we had to learn to entertain ourselves. Dad kept on saying it was not safe for now, but I wondered if there ever would be a time when that would be a possibility. Thank God he didn't object to our college dreams at least, and Kira had already gotten into med school.

  “This is not healthy,” I muttered while he shrugged, and then without warning, he picked me up in his arms and rushed to the lake while I screamed.

  “Don’t you dare, Arden!” But of course he didn't listen and threw me in, cold water slipping through every bone. I couldn't breathe but managed to push to the surface, even with my clothes heavy and soaking wet.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Sometimes Arden scared me with his weird tendencies to do whatever the hell he pleased; however, I had no choice but to deal with them.

  He had chosen me as his friend, and since he was an heir to the empire, no one objected to it. He was three years older than me and had already had his share of girls and friends, so I never understood his fascination with me.

  He had already managed to get respect from the enforcers and bested lots of people in fights.

  I glanced down and discovered my white shirt, which showed the outline of my bra, and my shorts did nothing to hide my body. “Arden!” I covered myself up as much as I could with my hands. “I’m cold,” I whispered, not really understanding what was going on.

  I shouldn't have run away. It was just that Uncle’s house had so much territory it always brought a sense of freedom to me if I managed to stroll through it.

  Arden shook his head as if from a haze and then walked to me, sinking knee deep into the water, not caring in the least about his jeans. He tugged on the back of his shirt, took it off, and offered it to me. “Wear it; it will be warmer. Sorry, I didn’t think,” he said, and I exhaled in relief.

  For a moment there, I was afraid of his next action.

  “It’s okay. Maybe we should go back.” This didn't seem like much fun anymore, and I needed t
he safety of my father back.

  “Hey,” he whispered and raised my chin with his fingers so that our gazes met. “There is no need to be afraid of this.” Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned close and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Fury and fear laced my voice as I walked quickly out of the water, detesting to even put on his shirt because it held his smell.

  “Establishing your position in my life,” he replied, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, Edana. You aren't that stupid, are you?” He didn't wait for a reply as he continued. “Why do you think you have all those nice things while your father is just an enforcer? And why I’m always by your side. You. Are. Mine.” He emphasized each word, drilling them into my brain while I just gaped at him as if he had lost his damned mind.

  “You are insane. I’m not yours.” I tugged on my elbow, but he wouldn't let me go. “We are friends.”

  “No, you are my future bride, and everyone knows that. Your father agreed to this a few years ago.”

  “No, it’s—” I whispered, the perfect image in my head crumbling to ruins.

  Family gatherings, expensive presents, gifts, me not being able to go anywhere unless Arden approved it. All his women never looking at me, and him letting me know he just fucked them. His friends who joked about everyone else, but never about me, only bowing their heads.

  I was an Irish mob’s bride, and I couldn't believe I had been so naïve. But with realization came pain, so deep in my chest I gulped more air.

  My parents had raised me like some pig for the slaughter. How could they have done this to me?

  Moscow, Russia

  September 2018

  Yuri

  The bundle in my arms squealed as I bounced him up in the air and then immediately caught him, while wiggling for me to do it again, so I did, his squeals of joy soothing the pain inside me.

  “Be careful or his food will come out,” Vivian said from the doorway, as she leaned on the jamb and patted her belly. She and Radmir expected a baby girl in three months, so he’d almost lost his mind with worry but at the same time read all the fucking books and went to all the doctor appointments. He had missed it with their first kid, so he vowed never to do it again.