The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

The Target

Chapter 3

Edited

We walked home in a tense silence.

After my run in again with Maksimillian I made the others promise not to bring it up again. I didn't want to revisit the conversation. Not when the Russian held a promise over me I felt overwhelmingly vowed to come true. Maksimillian Nikolaev was getting under my skin, and we barely stood the equal ground of one another.

That has to be a record.

Together we walked into the open gates where Babushka was there to greet us at the door, her slim and plaque form ravaged by age. Her long hair, now white, had grown past her hips much like mine. She'll no doubt cut it by the end of this year; she hates long hair.

"Hello, my grandchildren. How was school?" She asked with a bright smile.

"Fine."

"Boring."

"Interesting."

"The same," I answered last, sinking into the armchair where Dedushka and Mama were playing a round of Chess. "I managed to snag several wallets, one iPhone, and five necklaces from a couple classmates I know have mommies and daddies with deep pockets."

"Hey, pumpkin," Papa said coming out of the kitchen with a wet towel over his left shoulder and Mama wound in his arms. "How was school?"

"Insightful," I groaned and maneuvered a arm over my eyes, slouching in the parlor chair.

"Hi, uncle Pavel."

My cousin stole the curving sofa opposite me with Levin and Mikhail cornering her in. The three were inseparable. A team I like to refer closely to the Three Musketeers.

Mikhail glowered at Lev like he was the enemy, carefully viewing his thigh pressed against Nina's. I knew it was primarily based on his brotherly duty to protect his little sister. He acted the same way with me, but for a much different reason since Vitaly that bordered along the line of purely brotherly.

Unknowingly I reached for the hummingbird around my neck. Lost in my thoughts. Did he really buy this for me?

It was plausible. He was the only one to know besides my family of the story behind my tattoo. He was the first outsider I told before finding out who he really was.

°°°°°°°°°°°°

I was walking home from school that day and decided for a trip down the beach. Levin and Mikhail had been with me, Nina at home because she became ill with the flu. The sun was out, barely lite in the corners of the blue sky, shades of gray and white flurries lingering in its path. The smell of sand brushed my senses once we neared, the echo of birds and seawater like a song skipping through my ears, a beat that nullified my rapid heart.

"Eto prekrasno, ne tak li?" It's beautiful, isn't it?

The foreign accent startled me.

Was he talking to me?

I opened my eyes and gazed over at the tall boy standing next to me. He was beautiful. The sun kissed his skin with enough light that he glowed, and the onyx locks withering in his face personified against sharp planes that made his features stand out ruggedly; he gave off a wave of danger, but I was too entranced to ignore the warning signs when I should have.