Page 13 of Until Death or Defeat

My eyes start to water but I try to bite back my tears. My brother holds my hand, but he doesn’t dare speak and go against my father.

“And you will. You have been trying to prove yourself useful to me for years, haven’t you? This is the use I’ve found for you, and it’s an important one. Marrying the head of the largest bratva family in New York is a powerful position, so you will smile, and you will marry him happily, and you will bear him a child so that you will be fully integrated into theirfamily, solidifying the truce permanently, because that was his father’s stipulation.”

I shake my head, wiping the stray tear. “You’re really forcing me to bear him a child? I have no say in rejecting this at all?”

His past anger has receded now to quiet words, my pleading words hitting him in the face.

“This isn’t about you, this is just how this world runs. If you wish to reject it, you can, but you won’t be doing it under my household name.”

I’m taken aback by his words, and Caesar finally stands and speaks up.

“Think about what you’re saying, Dad. This is your only daughter, show her some compassion,” he begs softly, pulling me into his chest, which causes all of the unshed tears to burst through at once as I sob into it.

I can’t see what’s going on, but I hear the door to the office open and then slam shut, as my brother holds me tighter.

“It’s okay, Gigi. I’m still here for you, and I’ll never turn my back on you like that.”

His words envelop me in a warm embrace, and I keep my face buried in his chest, pushing down the horrible ache in my chest. I wish my mom was here now more than anything.

4

Artem

NINE YEARS AGO

The wind is harsh on the roof of the country club, and the moon is the only light I have as I try to fish a cigarette out of my suit pocket. I struggle to light it, but inhale deeply and exhale a sigh of relief once it finally courses through me. This roof has always been my refuge at these events, the perfect place to escape the glitzy and loud ballroom below. These last few months after losing Sara has felt like a blur. I feel like I’ve been stuck on autopilot, lost in memories of her and of her final breath.

The creak of the door opening somewhere behind me pulls me back into the moment, and I turn, expecting to see Roman come up here to drag me back downstairs again, all worried about how fucked up I am.

But the figure I see is not Roman, it’s a girl. I tilt my head, and then realize who she is. That’s definitely Caesar’s little sister. But what is she doing up here? I stand there quietly, and I can hear her faint sobs as I watch her walk close to the ledge, wiping her nose with her arm.

“Lost?” I speak up finally, feeling guilty for watching her cry without her even realizing I was up here.

She quickly wipes her tears, “What—no, I just...I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

“Well, here I am.” I take another drag and step closer.

“I’ll leave,” she says defeatedly, but for some reason I can’t explain, my mouth moves.

“You don’t have to.”

She turns to face me again, her eyes soft and still wet as she nods.

“What’s got you so upset, princess?” I can see her internal battle, wondering if she can trust me at all, and she fucks up by deciding she can.

“I finally got the courage to tell my dad I wanted to be considered to take over one day instead of Caesar. I just graduated and...I can’t imagine any other career for myself at all. I think I would be better for it than him, and he doesn’t even care about it at all,” she says looking at me, thinking I’d sympathize.

“I’m sure he explained to you that it isn’t a woman’s place, right?”

She nods, sighing.

What a fucking idiot. Crying because she can’t be the head, when she can so easily just live an easy fucking life and keep her hands clean? Is she out of her mind?

“Good, because your idea was stupid.”

She turns back to me quickly, her brows furrowed. This is an expression I’ve never seen from her before. I only see her in passing anyway—complacently following behind her brother. She looks different right now, and it irritates me how she’s now forcing me to notice her—how, for the first time, I can’t just look away and keep walking past her like she’s unimportant.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” She spits, and it elicits a smirk from me. I’ve never had a woman who knows who I am speak to me like that.