Page 2 of The Bratva Sinner

I'm sorry,her eyes say.I'm so sorry.

"You brought this on yourself." The tall man addresses her directly now. "You knew what you took when you left. You knew what it would cost."

My mother closes her eye.

"Let her go." My voice is unnaturally calm. "Whatever this is, whatever deal or debt that needs paid, let her go, and I won't fight you. I'll come with you. Just let her go first."

The tall man looks at me for a moment. Then, he raises the gun.

I know guns. It’s a Glock and he’s aiming the barrel at my mother. Everything stops as realization dawns. Time doesn’t move like it should. There are frames. I hear a horrific scream that hurts my ears, and then the sound of the gun being fired. That damn screaming continues. I swear I can see the bullet leave the chamber and slam into my mother’s head. The man holding me needs both arms and his full body weight to keep me from getting loose. I’m fighting harder than I have ever fought anything in my life.

My mother's eye is still open.

I'm sorry,it still says.

But she’s not in that one good eye. She’s gone. The blood and brain matter covering the fridge and counter tells me she’s gone.

They killed my mama.

The screaming continues.Mine.I’m screaming so loud that it feels like glass scraping in my throat. I thrash, kick, and buck my body, but I can’t break free.

I don't know how long they let me fight before the one holding me shifts his grip and something hits the back of my head. Pain explodes, and I think he shot me. Just before my legs give out, I realize I hadn’t heard a shot.

The last thing I see before blackness fills my vision is her face. That one eye still looking at me.

Awareness comes back first.Not memory. Not pain. Just the terrible sense that I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.

Sound next. I’m in a vehicle. There’s music playing, nothing I recognize. Then smell. Leather. Cologne so thick it turns my stomach. And underneath it, sulfur. I know that smell. It’s what clings to you after a gun goes off.

Then the pain hits, and I can’t stop the vomit.

A man curses. He's speaking in a language I don't know, or maybe I do. There's something familiar in the sounds that I can't place.

I open my eyes, but I see nothing but blackness. That’s when I feel the cloth touching my face. I’m blindfolded, and my mind scrambles to catch up.

What the hell?

“Mama!”

My mom. She’s dead. Oh, God. I’ve been kidnapped.

Pain registers all at once. My head feels as if it’s been split in two. Nausea threatens again. I squeeze my eyes closed and count tothree, forcing myself to relax and take inventory, starting at my toes. I’m lying down on soft leather in the backseat of the SUV that started this whole nightmare.

I only have one boot on. I rub my legs together and am relieved to discover that I’m still wearing my jeans. My hands are tied, and I’m blindfolded but not gagged. My head hurts. My throat’s sore. But I’m in one piece.

God help me, I’m relieved.

And then, I reach and shove the blindfold off my eyes. If they didn’t want me to see, they shouldn’t have put my hands in front of me.

Assholes.

I look at the two men who are having a casual conversation like this is all so normal. I understand bits and pieces. They’re talking about what they want for dinner.

They murdered my mother after beating the shit out of her, and they’re talking about tacos.

What the fuck is happening?

Mama.