Indebted to the Mafia King

*Tatiana*

As soon as the plane touches down at JFK airport, a wave of anxiety washes over me. This is my first time leaving my home country of Russia. I've spent my entire life looking over my shoulder, waiting for my asshole uncle, Oleg Romina, to show up and finish the job he started twenty years ago when he murdered my parents in cold blood. Now, he's summoned the only parents I've ever known, Lev and Ilya Ivanov, to return to America. I insisted they bring me along, but as we deboard the plane, a sense of unease settles into my chest.

My biological father, Petr Romina, used to be the boss of the Romina Empire, a smaller Russian mob that has territory in several countries, including New York where Oleg resides. When I was old enough to understand the kind of life our family used to have, Lev and Illya told me the truth about my parents' deaths. My mother was my dad's mistress, and when Oleg learned that they were planning on getting married, his greed made him murder both of them, preventing them from building a family and carrying on with the legacy.

Instead, Oleg took over, becoming the boss of the Romina Empire for over two decades now.

He never knew of my existence, though, because my parents made sure I would be safe with Lev and Ilya before they died so that I could have a normal life.

Lev is still one of Oleg's capos, working in Russia, but he's always been loyal to my father, and he promised him he'd take care of me, even if he had to risk his life for it to happen.

That's something I will not allow.

So, when Oleg summoned them to come to America, I threw a tantrum and said I was coming with them. It took me a long time to convince them this was the right thing to do, and they only agreed because I promised I'd be hidden and make sure I wasn't seen with them.

But I could never live in peace back home, knowing they'd be here, so close to my uncle and risking getting themselves tortured or killed.

Probably both.

I have to be close to them. To keep an eye on them and take care of them. It's the least I can do after everything they've done for me.

As I walk through the airport and head to the luggage claim, my stomach twists into a tight knot. I have both my parents in my peripheral vision, making sure they don't leavef my sight for a second.

We're walking separately from each other in case someone is watching us, but we have a plan to meet at our new building. We've rented apartments in the same complex so we don't draw too much attention to the fact we're always coming and going into the same space.

It upsets me to have to live away from them, but I guess it's better than staying back in Russia and not knowing what's going on here.

I already hated Oleg with every fiber of my being, but now that he's ordered my parents to come here, fury threatens to consume me, and it's all I can do to keep it tamped down. Why did he have to summon them here after so long? What does he want them for? What is he plannint?

Unease coils in my gut like a snake about to strike.

Someone asks a worker how to get to baggage claim, despite all the signs. The older gentleman who has probably worked here longer than I've been alive says, "Right this way. Follow the signs." He's not as abrasive as I've heard most New Yorker's can be, but he's not exactly the picture of hospitality either. I follow the crowd toward the baggage claim, keeping a steady pace.

It's my first time in an airport as large as this one, so it's a bit disorienting. I don't know exactly where to go, but the signs are clear enough. I glance to my side every once in a while to make sure Lev and Ilya are still close to me.

Lev taught me how to be on high alert all the time, looking for anything that could be considered out of place, anyone who looks suspicious. He also taught me skills to defend myself. So far, I've never had to use them, but the closer we get to Oleg, the more likely it is I'll need them.

We grab our bags and head out separate doors, still within each other's eyesight. I'm only a few steps out the door when two black vans come screeching to a halt in front of me, their tiles so loud that it attracts the attention of everyone around me. Shock and fear overcome me, and I don't have time to scream for help or check on my parents before a large man jumps from the vehicle and shoves a black sack over my head, forcing me inside the van.

So much for knowing how to defend myself.

As soon as my brain catches up with the situation, I begin to kick and punch blindly at whoever is holding me, but it's all in vain. Soon, they have my wrists restrained behind my back and my legs wrapped together with some kind of a cord. "Let me go!" I growl, trying to be as loud as possible so maybe someone will hear me.

But the van is already moving, and I doubt anyone will be bothered to call the police. Even then, the police likely won't come to my rescue. If I'm being kidnapped by the bastard I think I am, no one would dare try to stop him.

"This one is feisty." The deep voice next to me has a Russian accent, which is no surprise. I shove him hard with my shoulder since I can't crack his jaw with my fist. It seems to do nothing. I hear two other men next to me, a trio of devils that makes my skin crawl with disgust tinged with a hint of fear I refuse to acknowledge.

"Pity she already has an owner," someone else muses. "I'd love to take her for a ride, if you know what I mean."

My heart plumps to my stomach, and I fear I might throw up the terrible vegetable lasagna I had on the plane.

One doesn't grow up exposed to this life the way I have without ever hearing about the horrendous acts the mafia commits against their enemies, but I wasn't expecting to be a victim. Not today. Not ever. Lev and Ilya have always made sure to take good care of me. To keep their promises to my parents. To keep me safe. All of this is happening because I was stubborn, insisting on coming here with them.

"Where are my parents?" I grunt, starting to feel suffocated. Struggling has my lungs burning. I'm unable to draw a deep breath.

"You'll see soon, pretty little bitch. Just make sure you behave because I don't want to hurt you. The boss gave us specific directions not to-but if you get out of line, well, I guess I'll just have to take a scolding," the deep voice to my left informs me.

I swallow a curse, deciding to play nice for now I need to be awake when we get wherever it is they are taking me. Also, I'm scared to death of what they might do to me if I black out. They might be following orders, but I doubt they have the ethics and decency to keep their hands to themselves if I make their job too easy.

We drive for what seems like about fifteen minutes before I lose track of all the turns we've taken. I wouldn't have a clue of where we are since I've never been to New York City before, but it was worth a try.

My hands and legs are numb by the time the van comes to a stop. Rough hands tug me from the van. I prepare to put up a fight until a familiar voice has my blood freezing in my veins, all the fight gone out of me.

Dad.

"Let her fucking go! It's me that he wants! She has nothing to do with anything!" he shouts.

I want to tell him to shut up. Oleg won't take it easy on him if he keeps arguing.

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Fucking narcissistic prick.

"Please, just let her go." Mom's voice is weak, raspy, and I can hear the tremble in every word as they leave her mouth. She's terrified. Not for herself-but for me.noveldrama

I swallow the lump in my throat, pushing aside the voices in my head saying that we should have escaped when we had the chance.

What were we thinking? Of course, Oleg didn't invite my parents here for a fucking spot of tea.

But how did he find out about me? As far as I know, he's had no idea that I even exist. Even in Russia, we were always extra careful to avoid detection.

My thoughts are interrupted as I'm guided across a patch of concrete, grass, and up some steps. When they finally remove the bag from my head, it takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room.

But when I do, I wish I couldn't see anything. The man staring back at me looks so much like my birth father-which I only know because of the pictures I've seen of him. One feature is decidedly different, though. His eyes are two blue ice spheres piercing through my soul.

The callus smirk on his lips causes my legs to falter under me, but his men still have a tight grip on both my arms, so I try to pretend like I'm just struggling again. I can't afford to show him any sign of weakness.

White marble floors grace the living area, with two enormous leather couches, a massive grand piano, and a bar in the corner. White curtains clue me into a potential way out-until I see the bars. I won't be getting out that way, and the door behind me is blocked by two enormous men.

More of Oleg's henchmen man handle my parents into two folding chairs, jarring out of place in this room. They're pushed down and tied so tightly, my mother begins to whimper as the assholes pull the ropes much harder than necessary.

Tears form in my eyes, forcing my weakness to show. "Stop!" I shout. "Please-stop!" "Tatiana Ivanov," Oleg rolls my name on his tongue as if he's tasting me. His Russian accent is heavy, even though he's lived here for over two decades. "My beautiful niece. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you."

I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay quiet. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me beg anymore. Not yet anyway.

"It's a pity that we have to meet under such dismal circumstances, but in my defense, I didn't know about you until... well, only a few weeks ago."

Oleg paces back and forth, a pistol in his hand, but he is so nonchalant, holding the weapon flippantly,  one can tell it's become an extension of his body.

"My brother was always the smartest of the two of us. Even dead, he managed to keep me in the dark. But he's been taken care of. And since you came all the way here and made my job so much easier, I have chosen a path for you that is much better than what I originally had in mind." He turns and looks at me with those icy eyes, letting me know he'd planned to kill me originally. Somehow I doubt what he's up to now is any better.

My jaw cracks, I'm gritting my teeth so tightly. But I don't bulge. I lift my chin, glaring

at him, daring him to continue.

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"But first things first. I don't hold grudges, but I also have to show you I'm not someone to be trifled with," he continues, turning his back to me and heading toward my parents.

I sense what's about to happen before he lifts his hand, and a scream escapes my lips. "No!"

One gunshot followed by another echoes through the room. The sound is deafening, but I hardly notice the ringing in my ears. My mind falters, trying to comprehend what I'm seeing. Two crimson pools stain the white marble beneath the misplaced folding chairs, both of their heads hang limp, but my mother's eyes are wide open-frozen. Staring at me.

Raw desperation pours out of me, a gutteral scream followed by sobs I cannot control. With every fiber of my being, I will time to reverse, to rewind a few moments, an hour or two, to put me back on that plane, making different choices. Better choices.

But that can't happen, so here I stand, staring at another set of dead parents and the fucking bastard who has now taken everything away from me.

The sickening sound of his low cackle has my stomach churning, and when I return my gaze to his callous face, I feel like I might vomit all over his fucking marble floor. "Asshole!" I manage to bite out. "You fucking bastard!"

"Now, now," he says, stepping toward me. "Watch yourself, or my plans for you might change again. You wouldn't want to follow them, would you?"

I would like to, actually. I wish he would raise that gun and put a bullet through my forehead. That's my initial thought, anyway. But then... I wouldn't have the chance to watch him cringe in pain as I rip him limb from limb.

I bite my tongue, tears still stinging my eyes.

"As I was saying, I have other plans for you." He continues to talk, but I can't rip my

eyes away from the limp bodies of my parents. "You see, traditions mean a lot to me. Eventually, I will have to retire, and the Romina Empire should be kept within the family. I can't be the last of my family line to rule this syndicate with an iron fist." He realizes I'm not listening and moves so that he's situated between myself and my parents' bodies. I blink a few times and focus on his icy stare. He chuckles another low rumble, and the temptation to spit directly in his smug face is almost unbearable. My parents died to protect me. They gave everything in a failed attempt to keep me safe. I cannot let this basard win.

One callused finger slips beneath my chin, yanking my face up to look at him. I grit my teeth, staring back at him in defiance. Nothing he can say or do can possibly cause me more harm than what he's ever done.

With a wide smile, Oleg declares, "You will marry my son, Yakov."

Without another thought, I hock back and let fly a wad of phlegm that hits him directly

in the center of his left eye.

The slap across my face sends me reeling, but it doesn't hurt.

I'm beyond pain now.