The Beast

Prologue

Prologue
I Hate This Family

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LEV

   "I wish you'd consider staying longer." Mama aimed her pleading eyes to my sister, who rolled her eyes with a crooked smile, like she was telling a joke.

   "Mama," she began, crossing her arms on top of the dining table, "We have work."

   Papa glared at Roza but didn't say anything while mama continued to figure out how to convince her only daughter to stay in Russia. If it was up to her, she'd prefer Roza stay forever. She knew better to say that.

   This dinner has taken another year from my life.

   It was the same speech every time Roza visited with her husband. And my sister visited frequently. Birthday's. Events. Parties. This week, she's visiting due to it being mama's birthday.

   Another fucking dreadful dinner.

   Mama gushed with Roza. Daemon focused on Roza. Papa stared at mama. Vladik aimlessly gazing at the ceiling, always lost in his mind. And then there was me, silently suffering until I could go back to work. Go back to the man waiting for me in the basement.

   I flexed the switchblade in my hand, already eager to get this mandatory dinner over with.

   If I truly cared enough, I would have scoffed at papa's idiocy. During mama's "disappearance", he'd completely cut contact with his children, unless it was business related. Roza ran away from the family not too long after. But the second mama returns from the grave, we're meant to act like a happy family. A family. The mere thought sounded disgusting.

   But I sat at this table because hearing papa's lectures were a waste of time, and I didn't have enough of an emotional capacity to be on the other end of mama's sadness.

   Daemon, Roza's husband of two years, sat opposite of me. I was tolerate of him because he didn't get in my way, nor did he attempt to chat with me. Although, I know my sister's been encouraging him to linger around me, he typically remained silent, unless I started conversation. Seeing that I've only done that twice—when I first met him—most of our alone time consisted of us barely acknowledging each other. Until now.

   As if he could sense my desire to escape this nightmare, he gazed at me coolly. I matched his expression, knowing he was unhappy with me. It wasn't until I heard my name being called out, did I reluctantly end our staring contest.

   "Lev?" Roza spoke softly, and there was a sudden urge to pierce the table with my knife before I quenched it. "Are you okay?"

   For the first time this evening—not that anyone noticed—I spoke. But not to my sister.

   "Papa, can I go back to interrogating the witness?"

   Mama cringed, and papa reached for her hand to reassure her before sending me a glare. "Lev, you remember we don't discuss such matters in front of your mama," he roughly stated in Russian, knowing mama wouldn't understand.

   Despite being Russian herself, she lived in America and hadn't learned the language before papa brought her to his home. He liked to keep her oblivious, so she wouldn't understand the things he spoke.