KONSTANTIN
The smell of roses drifted through the air. For me, it represented the stench of death. I had hated them for most of my life. They reminded me of my mother. The mother who betrayed her vow and had been executed in front of my eyes. It was the first death I witnessed, but certainly not the last.
The last image I had of her was her casket covered in thorns and roses as she was lowered into the ground.
It all started that night my mother died. That fateful night that changed the course of our lives. Even Tatiana's, who hadn't even been born yet.
Somebody shook my body, but I was sleeping too heavily.
"Wake up." A hushed whisper. My mother's voice. The scent of roses.
Mama always smelled of roses. My brain dazed, I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. It took me a while to take in my surroundings. I was in my bedroom. My eyes connected with my mother's green eyes, her messy blonde hair framing her face.
"We have to go, baby," she said in a hushed tone.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I wasn't a baby. I was six. A big boy. At least that was what my father said all the time. My twin, Maxim, was already awake and crying. It was nothing new; he always cried.
"It's okay, Maxim," I mumbled sleepily, accustomed to comforting him.
"Don't cry. Everything will be okay."
Although I had no clue what was happening. Mother gently yanked me out of bed, then handed me my shoes.
"Mama… where are we going?"
Her gaze, the color of the deepest green forest, darted around, as if she feared someone would appear at any moment. "Somewhere safe." I gave her a confused look. We were safe here. Father was the Pakhan and protected us from everyone. I opened my mouth to argue but she stopped me. "Don't argue with me, Illias Konstantin. You are my sons, and I'm not leaving you behind."
I hurriedly put my shoes on and took Maxim's hand in mine as Mama led us outside. My younger brother, although only by a few minutes, stumbled behind me, still crying, his steps clumsy.
"It's okay, Maxim," I comforted him. "We're together."
Before I could say anything else, Mama pushed us gently into the back seat of the Range Rover that Papa gifted her only days before.
"Fasten your seatbelts," Mama ordered in a whisper, then rushed to the driver's side and got in. Just as I helped Maxim with his, the tires screeched as she took off, and I hurriedly put my own seatbelt on.
The streets of Moscow were empty as we left our city house. It was dark and freezing cold, this winter being particularly cold. Most of the city slept, no other vehicles or people for as far as I could see. I glanced at the dash and saw the red '3:30 a.m.' staring back at us.
"Mama, why are we leaving in the middle of the night?" I questioned her, staring at the back of her blonde head.
Mother's hand trembled, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. She was paler too; her expression was fearful. She kept glancing around as if she expected someone to appear and hurt her. But Papa wouldn't let anything happen to her. He loved her too much.
I heard Papa's friends say that he loved Mama so much that it made him blind. It was dangerous to be like that in our world. The Omertà vow was above all else and nobody survived violating it. Not even a family member.
The thorns are poisonous, Papa's second-in-command muttered. The Black Rose means death.
Back then I struggled to understand what it meant.
"I don't want to go," Maxim whimpered. "I want my toys."
Mama paid him no mind. My brother cried a lot and got attached too quickly. At least that was what I heard Mama and Papa say.
"We'll get them," I said softly, just as mama took a sharp turn, and I reached out to steady Maxim before he'd hit the door as I held onto the seat with one hand. I glanced out the window and saw we were leaving the city behind.
"Mama? Where are we going?"
Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror and she smiled. That special smile that always softened even the hardest hearts.
"We'll start a new life," she whispered roughly. "Somewhere away from all this." The answer made no sense. "A real family. You'll gain a brother.
We'll be a happy family. Away from your father."
That answer made even less sense. Mama didn't have any more babies.
Maxim and I were her babies. She always said that. And father said we would always be together.
"But Papa won't be happy," I said softly. "He'll be sad without us."
Her eyes lit up staring in the distance, but she didn't answer. Just as I thought maybe she realized the error of her ways, she turned into a dark, gravel lot. Then I saw it. Another car sat there, a beat up van. Our car came to a stop and the van flashed its lights. Once. Twice. Three times.
A soft squeal left Mother's lips. "Unbuckle your seatbelts," she said.
"Our new life awaits."
She reached for the large bag on the passenger seat that I hadn't noticed and jumped out of the car, then opened the door for us.
"Hurry," she rushed us.
I assisted Maxim with his seatbelt and as he scooted out of the car, I followed behind him after unbuckling my own. Once outside, the other car switched to high beams and the doors opened.
Holding Maxim's hand, I sheltered my eyes with my other. The door slammed. A soft gasp came from my left. It was my mother's.
I barely had time to process it all when two of Papa's men grabbed Mama. She didn't fight, but her face paled even more. Maxim and I remained completely still, staring at our papa who wore a scowl and cold expression on his face. The coldest I'd ever seen.
He gripped a man by his throat. A man I had never seen before. He was choking him to death.
"Stop," Mama screamed. Papa ignored her.
"Please, Konstantin," Mama pleaded on a whimper. Lenosh, Papa's right hand man, kept her captive as she struggled against him. "Please."
She kept fighting, her eyes on the man my papa gripped. A little boy stood behind him, shaking like a leaf. Was he supposed to be our brother? He looked nothing like us. He wasn't a Konstantin. "Please don't hurt him. It's my fault."
That seemed to infuriate Papa even more. The boy's high-pitched wail registered.
"He touched what was mine," Papa growled. "Took what was mine. He poisoned you against me. He'll die, my little black rose. For your betrayal and his own, he dies. So will his line."
Maxim started crying even louder, his hand gripping mine like it was his life raft. This wasn't a life for him. Mama said he was too sensitive. Too weak for it. But not me. When she looked at me, she saw my papa. I knew it.
She even said it a few times.
For the first time in my life, I saw Mother fight him. She clawed at the guards, spit at them, and screamed. She screamed so loud, it pierced my ears, and I was fairly sure it matched the boy's high-pitched cries.
"I was his before I was ever yours," she screamed. The words were directed at Papa, but her eyes were teary on the man Papa was slowly killing. He was gasping for air. It almost looked like Papa gave him just enough air to inhale then resumed his torture. "I hate you! I hate your touch. Sleeping in the bed next to you. I hate when you fuck me. I hate that my sons are your sons."
The last sentence was Papa's undoing. In one forceful move, he snapped the man's neck and threw him onto the gravel. Mother finally freed herself from Papa's men and ran to the stranger. Her lover.
She fell down to her knees, uncaring of the rips on her dress nor stones digging into her knees. Papa's eyes turned black as the starless sky above us. Darker than the deepest depths of the oceans.
He retrieved his gun and pointed it at Mama.
My breaths felt heavy and my heart thundered violently. Maxim squeezed my hand so hard that he cut off my circulation. The cries of the boy, the whimpers of my brother… it all faded away, leaving only the harsh breaths of my mother with mine.
It all happened in slow motion. A gravel stone moved. A teardrop stained Mama's beautiful cheek, rolling down her chin. The scent of roses against the freezing temperatures.
Father didn't even hesitate. He pulled the trigger. A loud bang. Hot liquid splashed onto my face.
My mother's blood. Even that smelled like roses. It stained her blonde hair, ruining it forever.
Roses and death. It was all it represented.
It was the first time blood touched me. Since then, I'd been drenched in it.
My phone beeped, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was my confirmation that the surveillance cameras were installed in her penthouse.
Putting my phone away, my eyes flickered to the simple stone next to Adrian's crypt.
My mother was buried here. A New Orleans native. I never understood why Papa brought her body here. Maybe he wanted her out of his country.
Or maybe he felt guilty.
So yes, I fucking hated roses. There was only one person who had come close to eliminating my hatred for roses. Tatiana Nikolaev. My eyes flickered to her. The lone figure standing in front of the stone crypt.
Why did I save her? Maybe I didn't want to witness the life leaving her eyes. From the moment I first spotted her, she had captured me. Too effortlessly. It wasn't good to love a woman in our world. Just look at my father. Just look at Maxim.
Her brothers and the rest of her family stood only a few feet away. Their worried glances were on their baby sister. The sister they almost lost. The sister who married their best friend. The sister who didn't know she held the destiny to most leaders of the underworld in her hands. That fucking chip.
Adrian loaded all those goddamn videos on that chip along with information that wasn't for public knowledge.
Her eyes stared at the niche plate. She hadn't been crying, although even from a distance, I could see that she was pale. Her face was still marred by the fading bruises, despite her attempt at hiding them with those dark sunglasses.
Just seeing that bruise was enough to make me want to snap Adrian's neck with my bare hands. He put her in that spot. He caused the underworld to go after her just by being his wife. As far as I was concerned, he got off easy. His death was too quick.
When she removed her glasses, those pale blue eyes hit me. The dark shadows under her eyes made them look even bluer than normal. It felt like peering into her soul while at the same time pulling all my darkest secrets from my own.
But the beautiful blue eyes that men had been falling all over themselves for years had lost their spark.
Her brothers strode away from her, leaving her alone. Tatiana stared at Adrian's grave, keeping her spine stiff. At five-foot-seven, she wasn't short, but in her state, she seemed petite. Fragile. Almost breakable.
As if she sensed my gaze, she shifted her head my way. Her pupils dilated, the black almost swallowing her blue. A visible tremble rolled down her body, and for a fraction of a second, I saw emotion pass through those pale blues.
Raw, unfiltered emotion. As if she remembered. Did she?
But then she blinked and returned her gaze to the tomb. As if walls were coming around her, she wrapped her arms around her small waist. She was alone, someplace else where nobody else belonged.
Somewhere where she'd feel nothing but numbness. She'd sealed her heart and her soul. She thought it was the end.
It was only the beginning.