Chapter 4 - Blood and SteelThe thugs were dragged out the back door before the glass had even finished settling on the floor.
I didn't want to know what was happening in the alleyway.
The sounds that echoed through the brick walls were enough to tell the story.
I stood there,
shaking,
with my arms wrapped around Misha,
shielding his eyes.
Mikhail walked over to us,
stepping over the broken glass as if it were nothing more than autumn leaves.
He placed a hand on Misha’s head,
a gesture that was surprisingly tender for a man who had just ordered a massacre.
"Take him home,"
Mikhail commanded his lead guard.
Misha didn't argue.
He looked at his father with a mix of awe and fear,
then looked at me with a sad,
small wave.
Once the boy was gone,
the diner felt cavernous and cold.
Mikhail turned his gaze toward me,
and for the first time,
I saw a flicker of something human in his eyes.
It was guilt.
"I brought this to your door,"
he said,
his voice heavy.
"I thought I was protecting you by staying away."
"You were,"
I whispered,
finally letting go of the rolling pin.
"Until you started paying my bills and clearing the streets."
He stepped closer,
invading my personal space until I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Those men were from the O'Malley crew,"
he explained.
"They thought they could use you and Misha to get to me."
"And can they?"
I asked,
looking up at him.
He reached out,
his thumb brushing against my jawline.
"No,"
he said firmly.
"Because from this moment on,
you are under my personal protection."
"I don't want to be part of your world,
Mikhail."
"You fed a Volkov,"
he reminded me.
"You are already part of it."
He spent the rest of the night in the diner.
He didn't leave until a crew had arrived to replace the window and clean the floor.
He sat in the same booth Misha had used,
watching me as I cleaned up the mess.
We didn't talk much,
but the silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore.
It was filled with an unspoken understanding.
I realized then that Mikhail wasn't just a monster.
He was a man who lived in a cage of his own making,
and for some reason,
he had decided I was the only person who could see through the bars.
As the sun began to rise over the Chicago skyline,
he stood up to leave.
"Clara,"
he said at the door.
"Yes?"
"The apple pie really is as good as Misha said."
I watched him walk to his car,
knowing my life would never be the same.
May you like
The struggling diner owner was gone.
I was now the woman who belonged to the shadow.
