yard, carrying Nessa back to her house, is like watching the sun sink below the horizon. The light fades away, and all that’s left in its place is darkness and cold.
The house is silent. No music coming from Nessa’s little studio. No hint of her gentle laugh, or her questions to Klara.
Actually, there’s no noise at all. The men are silent, too. They’re angry with me.
From a strategic perspective, what I’m doing is insane. Handing Nessa over to the Griffins without any exchange, without even an agreement in place, is the epitome of foolishness.
I don’t care.
I lay awake all night, watching her sleep.
In the early hours of the morning, when the light turned from gray to gold, her face glowed like a Caravaggio portrait. I thought that out of all the sights I had ever seen, Nessa was the most beautiful.
I knew I didn’t deserve to have her in my bed. Nessa is a pearl, and I’m just the mud at the bottom of the ocean. She’s flawless and pure, talented and smart, while I’m an uneducated criminal. A monster who’s done horrible things.
But strangely, I may be the best person to truly appreciate her. Because I’ve seen the ugliest parts of the world. I know how rare her goodness is.
In that moment, watching her sleep, I realized that I love her.
Love is the one thing you can’t steal. You can’t create it, either. It either exists or it doesn’t. And if it exists, you can’t take it by force.
If I coerce Nessa into marrying me, I’ll never know if she loves me. She’ll never know, either.
I have to give her the chance to make her choice. Free and unencumbered.
If she loves me, she’ll come back.
But I don’t expect her to.
As I watch the car drive away, I doubt I’ll ever see her again.
She’ll go home to her mother and father, sister and brother. They’ll wrap her up in their arms, tears will be shed, joy shared. She’ll be happy and relieved. And what happened here between us will start to feel like madness to her. It will be like a fever dream—real in the moment, but fading away in the light of day.
I know I’ve lost her.
My emptiness is swallowing me whole.
I don’t care that my brothers are angry. I don’t care what the Russians will do. I don’t care about anything at all.
I walk down to the main level of the house, and out to the back garden.
It’s not much of a garden at the moment. All the leaves have fallen and moldered away. There’s only black, bare branches against a slate-gray sky. Rose bushes that are nothing but thorns. Silent fountains, drained of water.
Everything looks dead in winter. Chicago winters are cold and brutal—just as bad as Poland. Maybe I’d be a different man, if I’d lived in warmer places. Or maybe fate decrees that black souls be born in frozen climes.
I hear boots scuffing over dry ground.
Jonas stands beside me, his face somber.
“Alone again,” he says.
“Not alone,” I reply, dully.
There are still four people living in the house, besides myself. I command a dozen more soldiers, and many more employees. I have a small army at my disposal. I’m only as “alone” as I was before Nessa came. Which is to say, completely.
“Have you spoken to Kristoff yet?” Jonas asks.
“No.”
“How do you think he’ll take the change in plans?”
I look at Jonas, eyes narrowed and voice cold.
“That’s not your concern,” I tell him. “I’ll handle the Russians like I handle everything else.”
“Of course you will. That’s why you’re the Boss,” Jonas says. He smiles. Jonas always smiles, no matter his mood. He has smiles of anger, smiles of mockery, and smiles of deceit. This one is difficult to read. It almost looks sad.
Jonas lets out a long whistle, like a sigh. Then he claps his left hand on my shoulder, squeezing tight.
“And that’s why I love you, brother.”
We’ve known each other a long time. Long enough for me to know when he’s lying.
The knife cuts through the air between us, driving straight toward my liver.
Jonas is fast, but I’m faster. I twist away, just enough that his knife slices into my side instead, right below the ribs.
It’s a shallow wound, one that burns but doesn’t debilitate.
It’s the next one that really gets me.
Another blade comes whistling at me from behind, plunging into my back. It sinks hilt-deep into my right shoulder blade.
I twist out of Jonas’ grip, turning around to face my attacker. Andrei, that treacherous