“Not funny Yana.” Her carefree, untarnished eyes smile at me. It makes me a bit jealous of her. I would never have that.
I never got the chance to be so innocent. Papa made sure his favorite daughter knew no such luxury when he decided to send me into Russo territory and then decided he would teach me a Bratva tradition.
When I was twelve my Papa found one of the men who killed my mother. He kept the guy locked up for weeks.
I was home for winter break, my mind was stuck on the Harry Potter books and the painting I was working on was my vision of Hogwarts.
Papa called for me, he always sent our house ladies. This time he sent a soldier to call me, Quintin. I followed him down to the study unaware of what I was walking into. When I knocked on his door, he told me to come in.
It was the middle of winter and I had this baggy old t-shirt Filippo gave me, with sleeping beauty painted on it in mixed colors.