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Six years ago...
There's a certain tension in the air. As if my surroundings can sense the weight of the evil coming my way. As if trying to warn me that shit's about to go down. And it unsettles me that this is out of my control. Once again, pesky fate gets in the way and I'm supposed to just sit back and watch what it has in store.
Fog settles over Staten Island, adding to my misery. I stand on the balcony of the Kamenev mansion, dressed in only my black nightgown and matching silk robe. Elbows on the railing, I watch the water and listen to the sound the wind makes as it moves. I remember the first time I stepped foot in this mansion.
Mikhail and I were only thirteen when Konstantin brought us here. It was my first time in the States and New York had already captivated me. Natasha wasn't allowed to come just yet, caught a terrible stomach virus that made us have to leave her in Russia. I remember that moment so clearly because we, or Konstantin I should say, had finally conquered Staten Island. He became one of the five kings of New York. He wanted Mikhail and I to see the fruits of his labor and hard work, to see that power was not given, was not earned, but it was taken. And one day, if we wanted to claim our place in this world, we too would have to take it.
We've stayed in New York ever since. Natasha would eventually join us of course, the pakhan not wanting his daughter to be far. Breaking out of my reverie, I push off the railing and step back into my bedroom. I take a quick shower and hurriedly get dressed. My instincts are never wrong, and if this uneasiness doesn't settle soon, I don't want to be caught off guard. I grab my weapons and conceal them in my holsters before heading downstairs.
The first floor is a ghost town. Save for a few guards on the perimeter of the mansion, Konstantin doesn't keep any of his other soldiers on the premises. I find that to be extremely asinine, but he argues that everyone who lives in the mansion has enough training to defend themselves in the event of an attack. While I don't doubt Mikhail and my own skills, and rarely go against the pakhan, avarice is the downfall of empires. I do not wish to see the Kamenev Bratva fall in this lifetime or the next, but Konstantin's word is the law.
I'm putting my hair in a ponytail when the first bomb goes off. The ground shakes and an ear piercing explosion causes my body to fly backwards, my arm crashing into the staircase. I'm quickly getting back to my feet and fixing my hair, before I sprinting across the floor and towards Konstantin's study. Natasha's on a flight back to Moscow that will be landing in two hours. Mikhail went out last night and never returned home. It's just me and Konstantin here. When I get to his office, he's not there but I do see him in the backyard through his windows. He's sandwiched between two men, both with their guns pointed to his head. It's clear that they're Italian, but it's unclear which family he belongs to.
