Chapter 8

Bratva

Valentina

Tribeca, New York, United States - November 27th, 2020

I wake up feeling dreadful. Memories from last night come crashing down on me.

A gun pressed to my back. Two hooded figures demanding I give them my wallet. Matteo coming down onto the subway platform. Matteo's hands on my thighs, him turning me around so I'm on my back, his lips on mine...it's too much and it's coming into my brain all at once.

I need to call my dad and tell him what happened.

Fuck.

I call him as soon as I get out of bed, just so I can get it over with.

He answers on the second ring, just as I enter the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

"Hi."

"Hi, is everything okay?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean-not really. Something happened."

I can literally hear him getting out of his seat.

"What happened?"

"I got robbed yesterday."

My phone starts buzzing then. He's calling me on video.

His face is close to the camera.

"Show me your face. Are you hurt? Who was it? When did it happen?"

He keeps shooting questions at me I can barely understand him.

"I'm not hurt." I point the camera to my temple. "I have a few scratches, but it's fine."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

I take a deep breath before I start talking; I want to get it over with as soon as possible.

"They pressed the gun to my back and I tried to run away but they pushed me to the ground. That's how I hit my head. I gave them my wallet and they asked for my phone but didn't wait for me to give it to them before they pinned me to the ground and tried to take off my coat. A man came down on the platform and then they left."

I feel my voice trembling as I relive how scared I was yesterday.

"Did you see their faces? Would you recognize them if you saw photos of them?"

"Yes."

"You should never try to run away in situations when you don't have the upper hand. Just give them your money, everything of value. It can be replaced. Damn it, Valentina."

He looks stressed and worried as he paces around his office in our house in Russia. He suddenly stops.

"What were you doing there at one in the morning?"

"I was..." fuck, I know there's something shifty about him when it comes to Matteo. "I was at a friend's house for Thanksgiving."

"Don't lie to me, Valentina."

"I'm not lying."

I'm avoiding.

"Who were you with?"

"Matteo."

He shakes his head, but he doesn't look angry. He still looks worried.

"From now on, you're not taking the subway anymore. And especially not after dark."

"Dad, I need it to use the subway to get from one place to another. It's efficient, and I'm fine, really. The shock has worn off. People get mugged everywhere. I won't use the subway at night anymore, I'll uber, but I need to get to work-"

"I'll come to New York tonight. And we're getting you a car tomorrow."

I open my mouth to protest out of habit. But the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of finally getting my own car. I could use it to commute when in-person classes start. Although four hours of driving-I'm overthinking it already and I haven't even gotten the car.

"Did you go to the police?"

"No."

He nods in approval before he runs a hand over his face and sighs. "I'm sorry this happened, Valentina. I'm sorry I couldn't be there. But you did the right thing by telling me instead of going to the police. They don't take mugging in New York too seriously."

"It's okay. Um- Matteo came as soon as I called. He drove me home." I don't know how to interpret his silence, so I keep talking. "He's the one who told me to call you instead of the police."

"He said that?"

"Yes."

"Hm."

"'Hm' what?"

"Nothing. He was right. I'll take care of it. We'll bring them to justice."

"How? Isn't it better to go to the police?"

"Don't worry about it."

He sounds weird now, like he's hiding something.

"Okay. But like-okay."

"I will see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

***

Tribeca, New York, United States - November 28th, 2020

My dad and Adrik are arguing when I get in the backseat of his car.

"Why are you yelling?" I groan as I put my seatbelt on.

"We're not yelling." They say at the same time.

Dad starts driving and Adrik turns to look at me. "He doesn't think I need a car as well."

"You live five minutes away from your University. And we can share."

"Do I also need to get robbed for me to get a car?"

"Adrik!" dad exclaims, throwing him an incredulous look as he starts driving.

Adrik throws his hands up in defense. "I'm sorry, okay? Can we at least get a cool car?"

"I'm buying a practical car. A safe car. Not something you can show off to your friends. You can also get a taxi, or an Uber. I give you more than enough money every month."

Adrik mumbles something under his breath and admits defeat.

The car dealership is close to Central Park, and dad seems to know the owner because they shake hands and talk to each other like they're old friends.

"This is Ivan, we went to college in Russia together." Dad explains.

"The last time I saw you two, you were five or six." Ivan gushes, his hand still on our dad's shoulder. He looks at me. "I have a few cars that I'd think you'd like, and we're going to get you the best deal, of course."

He leads us into his office, where he pulls out a book with all their current offers.

"I like this one." I say, pointing at the white Tesla shown on one of the pages.

"That's the worst one." Adrik whines.

Our father shoots him a look of disapproval that says 'behave'.

"Good choice. It's the safest car Tesla has to offer. It also comes with a five year warranty and two sets of all season tires." Ivan turns to my dad. "I can also throw in full coverage and of course, tinted bulletproof windows for the same price."

My dad nods in approval.

"Bulletproof?" I ask. "That sounds serious." I try to make a joke, but neither of them seem to find it funny.

"Safety is no joke, Valentina." Dad mumbles. "Alright. We'll take this one. When can it be delivered?"

"With all the changes you asked for? I'd say on Tuesday."

Adrik and I exchange looks as dad signs the paperwork and hands over his credit card.

***

Financial District, New York, United States – December 3rd, 2020

"I want you to start taking self-defense lessons."

My dad and I are having lunch in the restaurant on the fourteenth floor. In hindsight, I should've known that him inviting me to lunch (something he hasn't done in the past month since I've worked here) was a ploy.

"Dad, come on."

I try to look at his face for any sign that he might be joking. He isn't.

"I know someone who owns a studio. I already talked to him, and he's available today after you finish work. There are ten lessons in total, and there's a test at the end."

I want to tell him off for taking control of my life without asking me, but I know that he's just worried.

This is how he shows his love.

"I just..." he sighs, running his hands over his face, like he does when he's overwhelmed. "I just want you to be safe, Valentina. I blame myself for not being there for you."

My heart warms.

"Dad, come on. Even if you would have been in New York, you wouldn't have been in that subway station with me. It's not-it's not your fault, okay? It's nobody's fault. It's just something that happened and now we're dealing with it."

He nods. "I know. But as a parent-"

"I know."

He forces a smile. "Okay. So, will you take the class?"

"I thought you already signed me up."

He's smiling for real now. "Don't be a smartass, Valentina."

***

New York, United States – December 10th, 2020

It's the seventh time I enter the room in the studio where the self-defense class is being held.

Somehow, this feels like my new normal; finishing work, getting to the studio (by car), changing into my training gear, then two hours filled with every possible scenario of me being attacked from all sides.

It's tiring, and it feels like a full workout. I had the worst muscle fever after the second lesson, but I couldn't back down.

Nick (the guy my dad knows -who is also my trainer/teacher) is waiting for me along with four other men.

I've been training with him every day for the past week, and it's always been just the two of us. It has actually become fun, I'm not going to lie, especially after the fourth lesson. That was the last time Nick successfully managed to push me down and overpower me.

My eyes fall on the guns the four strange men are holding. "What's going on?"

"Don't worry, they're not real guns." Nicks says and points at the men. "They're here for the test."

"But this is my seventh lesson."

He smiles. "Yes, but you've performed much better than we expected. I think you're ready."

"I feel a pressure to perform now." I say, half-joking, half-serious. "Also, it's four to one, not one on one. It wouldn't be a fair test."

"Trust me, Valentina. You can do it."

I take a look at the four men. They're all at least 1.80m tall, and they have muscles in places I didn't even know existed.

"Okay, then let me changeaaaah!!" I scream when I see the first man already charging towards me.

My survival instinct kicks in when I see the serious look in his eyes. I duck and trip him so he falls flat on his face, groaning from the pain of hitting his head against the floor.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" I apologize and step towards him.

Before I can properly check whether he's alright, the second one is already running in my direction. He points the gun at me and I tilt my body away. I grab the arm holding the gun and punch him straight in the face before I manage to elbow him in his own elbow, which makes him let go on the gun. He kneels on the floor, heavily breathing and clutching his elbow.

I take hold of the weapon and point it at the other two men. They all look stunned, and maybe even a little scared.

"Now if this were a real gun, I would've already won." I say to Nick, who is smiling from ear to ear.

He cocks his head. "It's not a real gun though."

The last two men standing charge towards me, and my survival instinct kicks in again. I don't even have time to think of the 'self-defense theories' Nick taught me when speaking about more than one attacker.

I manage to grab the arm of the first guy who comes close enough for me to touch him, then twist it behind his back. I clock him over the head with the barrel of the gun, and he falls unconscious to the floor.

Shit, that wasn't in the course.

But I don't get the time to overthink about knocking a man unconscious, because the other one is already grabbing me from behind. He begins choking me for real, which causes me to drop the gun so I can grip into his arm.

It's no use, and he keeps pressing on my windpipes, which sends my brain into panic mode.

I try to bite him, and he yelps in pain but he doesn't let go. My brain is so foggy that I can't even manage to tell him to stop. I let go of his arm and step on his toes so I can push my body away from him.

Then, with all the strength I got left in me, I punch behind my back, getting him straight in the crotch with the barrel of my gun.

He lets go of me and drops his own gun. I use the opportunity to turn around and kick him to the floor.

I look around the room of fallen men as I try to regain my breath. Then I turn to Nick.

"Are you going to try to kill me too?"

He shakes his head in awe, a hand placed over his mouth. "That was-Valentina, that was incredible. You're-wow."

I try to not seem so happy about his feedback, but what the hell, I deserve it.

"Thank you."

My attention drifts to the two men who get up to go help the other two; the unconscious one and the one I kicked in the balls.

"I think you're ready for the second part of the training."

I frown and turn back to face him. "What do you mean, second part? I thought this was the test."

Honestly, I just want to go home and rest and not have to tire out my body after eight hours of office work.

"Your father is reluctant about the idea, but I think you should do it."

"Do what?"

"Train at the gun range."

The statement makes my body go cold.

Gun range?

"Why the fuck would I want to learn how to use a gun?"

He doesn't flinch at my swearing. "I think you'd be good at it."

"Training how to use a gun would imply circumstances in which I'd need to use it. I'm not planning on being a part of those circumstances."

"Having a gun for self-defense purposes would make you sleep better at night."

"No, it wouldn't. I'd be constantly aware of having a gun in my apartment. I don't want to do it."

"Alright. No one is pressuring you to. If you ever change your mind, you have my number."

I leave the studio with a knot in my stomach.

A gun range? Really? There's no way my dad would consider it necessary. Why would Nick even suggest that?

I call him as soon as I get in the car.

"How did it go?"

"I passed the test."

"You don't sound happy about it."

"Because he suggested training at the gun range."

My dad falls silent on the other end.

"What? You're not going to say anything?"

"It was just an idea, Valentina."

"Why would I need training in how to use a gun? Do you really think it's that dangerous for me to be walking around New York? Dad, it was one random mugging. I haven't felt this controlled since Romeo's death."

My eyes trail over the dashboard, to the car parked across the street from me. There's a man at the wheel, and he's staring right at me. My stomach turns upside down, and I get a bad feeling.

"Are you even listening, Valentina?"

I shake my head. "No."

"I'm not forcing you to train at the gun range. That's your decision. I'm happy you attended the self-defense classes."

"Sure."

I look back at the man behind the wheel of the black Mercedes. He's not looking at me anymore, but he also hasn't moved.

"I want to go home now. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

"Alright. Be careful."

I end the call after saying goodbye, my eyes trained on the man in the Mercedes.

As I turn the corner, I spare one last look in the rearview mirror. My shoulders instantly relax when I see the car still parked in the same spot.

My brain is playing tricks on me.

I keep checking whether he's following me for the next few blocks, just to make sure.

By the time I park in front of my apartment building, I realize that I've overreacted. All this self-defense energy and the 'always be aware of your surroundings' theories from Nick have gone to my brain.

I need a bath and a joint.

After getting out of the bath and changing into my pajamas, I walk over to the window to close the curtains.

My stomach drops to the floor when I see the same exact car as earlier parked under a streetlight.

I quickly close the curtains and go over to the front door, making sure to lock it twice. Then I lock my bedroom door as well, just to be sure.

***

Tribeca, New York, United States – December 11th, 2020

I peek out the window of my bedroom as soon as I wake up.

The black Mercedes is still parked in the same spot as last night, but I can't tell whether there's someone inside. My anxiety kicks in.

What the fuck do I do?

I need to get out of the car so I can get to work, and as much as I hate admitting this to myself, I'm scared.

I don't want to call my dad, because it would just make him worry.

Maybe it's not the same car. There are other people who drive those cars. Matteo drives one of those cars. Boris drives one of those cars. Everyone drives those cars.

Drinking coffee only makes matters worse, but I can't function without a cup. Once I'm done with my morning cigarette, I decide that I'm going to call in sick at work.

I use the 'I must study for exams' pretext – which is not really a lie; they are next week, and even though they're easy because they're online, it's a valid excuse. I attended 30% of classes since I started working, but attendance isn't mandatory and most of them require minimal attention.

By the time I finish what I call 'pretending to study', it's already dark outside.

Somehow, I managed to refrain myself from checking whether the car is still there until I'm tired enough to go to bed.

With my heart beating out of my ribcage, I go over to the window in my bedroom and look out.

Sure enough, the car is still there.

Is he waiting for me to leave the house?

That thought is enough to keep me up most of the night.

***

Tribeca, New York, United States – December 13th, 2020

The car is still there on Saturday when I go to sleep. It's still there when I wake up on Sunday, when I realize that I am unable to delay getting out of the house anymore. I need groceries, otherwise I'll starve to death.

As I order takeaway dinner that night, the thought I hoped I'd never have creeps up on me unexpectedly.

Maybe I do need a gun if I want to feel safe.

***

Tribeca, New York, United States – December 14th, 2020

Viktor calls me at 8am on Monday morning.

"Your father told me you have exams this week."

"Yes. I have one tomorrow and one at the end of the week." The rest are essay submissions. "I should be fine though."

He proceeds to suggest that I take the rest of the year off to focus school, then enjoy my winter holiday. It should come as a relief, but it doesn't. I haven't been able to relax since I realized that someone is following me a few days ago.

I'm staring at the black Mercedes on the street as I talk to him. It's still there. Why the fuck is it still there?

Am I going insane?

I could call my dad, but I'd know what he'd say. He'd argue that I shouldn't be living alone, that I should go back to Russia until classes start to be in-person again. Then I could move back on campus and forget about living in a big city by myself.

I text Nick that night before I go to bed after another day of staying inside with fear settled in my bones.

Valentina: I'll train at the gun range

Nick: tomorrow, same location. 6pm

***

New York, United States – December 15th, 2020

I go to Nick's studio after my exam. I had sprinted to my car with a speed I wasn't even aware I was capable of. The black car followed me all the way to the studio, not even trying to hide it anymore. By the time I step into the building, I feel a little safer.

Nick is waiting for me inside, and to my surprise, so is Aleksi Volkov. I haven't seen him since dad's birthday, and it takes me a couple of second to realize it's actually him.

He was skinnier, bonier, the last time I saw him. What I see right now is a whole ass man, with more muscles and a scruff instead than a skinny-legged blond baby face.

"Hi."

He can read the surprise on my face because he smiles.

He looks like he would've expected to see me here though.

"Hi, Valentina."

I pull him into a hug, and he softly squeezes me in his arms. It's like a silent comradery between the two of us, because we've both had someone killed in front of us. Maybe that's why he's here.

"Aleksi? Oh my God, you look so different."

"I've been working out." He half-jokes.

Nick also greets me before he guides both of us into the waiting room of his office. He opens a door there that I've always thought was just a closet.

We go down a flight of stairs until we reach the gun range. There's no separators like you see in the movies. It's just a giant room, with targets hung from the ceiling. The bullet-riddled walls are made of cement and the room smells like metal and something else.

"What's that smell?"

"Gun powder." Aleksi answers.

There's another door in the room from which Nick brings out two revolvers.

"Try to shoot at the heart of the red ones." He says.

Nick doesn't show neither of us how to use a gun, and Aleksi acts like he's done this before. I watch as he expertly lifts the revolver with one arm and fires three shots.

His shooting is precise, like he's been doing this since the beginning of time. He got the heart with each shot.

I only realize that I've been staring at him when he waves a hand in front of my face.

"Why are you so good at this?"

He shrugs. "Practice."

"Your turn, Valentina."

I try to mimic his actions, but my bullet goes past the target and into the wall in front of me.

"Use both hands. Try to visualize a person of that height at that distance away from you."

I follow his instructions, but after three more shots my ears start ringing from the noise.

"Don't we get something to cover our ears?"

Nick shakes his head. "In a real-life situation, you won't be wearing a headset."

"But this is just practice."

"Then try to make fewer mistakes."

I blink at him. He looks and sounds serious.

I don't know for how long we reload our guns and shoot at targets, but after the first hundred tries I finally start to get a hang of it.

During a cigarette break, I decide to ask Aleksi what I've been wondering about all along.

Nick is in his office taking a call and we're out in the back garden despite the cold.

I look up at him. "Why are you here?"

I'm sitting on the stairs and he's leaning against the wall of the building, insisting that he wants to stand.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I asked first."

"I want to learn the ropes and try to fill my father's role."

I haven't thought about Aleksander Volkov since- well, since Boris' drunken outburst on Adrik's birthday.

"Learn the ropes to what?"

"To the business."

"Are you working with my dad as well?"

He nods. "I have been since September."

I get a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Why would you need to learn how to shoot if you work in real estate?"

His eyebrows raise. "Oh, you're not aware."

"Aware of what?"

"Of what's going on."

"What's going on?"

I feel like I already know it's going to be something bad before he actually says it.

"Our families are the heads of the bratva."

The words somehow feel empty to me when I hear them. He's said them, but they sound like letters strung together. I don't register them as a fact of life.

Bratva is the Russian word for mafia. And it has no place in my current reality.

It's an ugly word, a word that I only ever heard in movies or in middle school, when people would talk about random murders happening in the city.

It's the first time I hear it coming from someone I trust to be telling the truth.

"What?" I ask again.

"Valentina, Levin Industries is the legal part of the business. It's a way to funnel money that comes from other sources. From the Levin OPG."

He says it like it's supposed to be obvious. He says it like he just told me his birthday or something.

"What illegal sources?"

"You really don't know?"

I shake my head and I see him hesitating. "I don't think I should be the one to tell you. Maybe I wasn't supposed to talk about it in the first place. I just assumed, because you moved to New York and started doing self-defense, and now you're- here."

"You assumed what exactly?"

He cross his arms over his chest. "That they're training you too."

"Training for what?"

"I know you're smart, and that you already know."

"I want you to say it again. I just-I don't want to believe it."

"You were there when Boris talked about my father's death. And I know that you came face to face with Lorenzo Giudice."

"How do you know all this?"

"Viktor and Kyril told me."

Hearing my father's name come out of his mouth in this context makes me nauseous. I'm not even sure which thread to follow. The one where I just learned that my family is somehow involved in the literal Russian mafia, the one where my own father talks to other people about what I do, or the fact that, in a weird way, I'm not the slightest bit surprised.

I just feel cold, like someone dropped a bucket of freezing water all over me and I'm numb.

"If you're not here because of that, why are you here?"

He looks scared and desperate to change the subject, so I let him. But it unsettles me about how terrified he looks of slipping up.

"I want to have a gun for protection."

"Why?"

"I was robbed a few weeks ago." I start.

His eyes widen.

"By whom?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Did you tell Kyril?"

I nod. "What will they do if they find the guys?"

He cocks his head and looks at me with warm eyes.

"I don't want to lie to you."

"You don't want to lie to me." I repeat. "Fine. I can respect that, I guess. I'll just ask him then."

"No! Don't tell him, I don't think he would want anyone else having this conversation with you for the first time."

The heaviness of his words sinks into me. It's serious. And it's real.

"If I asked you a lot of questions, would you answer?"

"I don't want to ever have to lie to you, Valentina."

He says it with such sincerity, which makes me trust him. We were kids together, our families have always been close, and he's always been different compared to Raisa. It's like they were raised by different types of parents.

"Okay."

I think about it for a second.

"Just tell me one thing, please. Why do you think I haven't been told until now?"

"I think he just wants to protect you. He hasn't told me about the robbery, so I think it must've really scared him. Maybe that's why he asked me to come to New York."

I don't think there's any way that he would be the guy in the car following me around. The man looked like he had brown hair and was bigger than Adrik.

I initially planned on telling him about the creepy guy that has been following me, but now I know there's no threat there. He's there to protect me, because my father is paying him to. Which means he cares, in a weird way.

I can learn to accept it, but only if he tells me about it himself. And then the rest of the truth.

The whole fucking truth.

The rage I feel at the thought of being lied to helps, because for the next hour, none of my bullets go outside the drawn contours of the targets.

On my way to the car after we're done, I text my dad. I want to talk to him even though I wouldn't even know where to start. And I also want to betray Aleksi's trust and tell my father that he told me.

Valentina: Are you in NY?

Dad: Not right now. Why?

Valentina: Nvm. See you at Christmas.

Dad: Nvm?

Valentina: = nevermind

I think about Aleksi as I start the car.

He's always been Raisa's older brother, who I was one grade above me and who has always been present at family functions or on vacations. He's always been there, but I have never felt attracted to him before. He was the quiet, listener type of guy who only spoke if he felt like he had something relevant to say.

Seeing the side of him that knows exactly how to handle a gun and protect himself was unexpected.

The black Mercedes pulls out of the parking lot and follows me home. I know it's not Aleksi, because I saw him get into his own car, but I also feel that it's someone who's there to watch over me, and not to harm me.

To make sure, I get out of the car once we're both parked. I walk past the cars separating us until I reach the driver's side window. I knock on the window, and it rolls down.

The man looks about my father's age, and he also looks familiar, but I can't place him.

"I know you're following me." I say in Russian.

"Good for you." He answers.

"Who are you?"

"Ask your father."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. But then I won't bring you warm coffee in the mornings."

"The car has an air conditioning function. I don't get cold."

"Goodnight then."

I turn around and leave. There's no point in trying to get any more information out of anyone else but my father. But I do feel a couple of kilograms lighter after confirming that the guy following me around is Russian.

***

Tribeca, New York, United States – December 16th

It's snowing for the first time since I moved to New York. It's beautiful, but the grey sky reminds me too much of Russia.

I got my first ever paycheck yesterday, and I celebrated with an impromptu online shopping trip.

Today also marks the first time Matteo texts me after Thanksgiving.

Matteo: are you okay?

With everything that's been going on in my life, my mind has voluntarily switched off the Matteo memories. It was too much to process all at once.

Reliving what happened that night with him and what it means is too much for me to handle right now. If I start thinking about how it felt to kiss him, and how much I'd wanted him to do it long before we went into that room, I'd start to slightly panic.

Not because it's a guy who I potentially enjoy being around that I'd also love to have sex with; but because it's him.

I know he's Isabella's best friend, and it could turn ugly. Also, the guilt I'd feel hiding from her overshadows my attraction. Or at least that's what I thought since his birthday, and I've broken a boundary every time that followed.

Deep down, I know Isabella wouldn't mind. The thought scares me even more because there's nothing standing in the way on acting on my desires.

I like him because I feel at ease around him, like I'm comfortable being in his presence. But at the same time, I know that there's some type of darkness in him that I know I never experienced before. Something that makes me feel in danger, but it's also exciting because I don't know what it is, and he's fun and he's not looking for anything serious and he's incredibly attractive.

A new tattoo almost every time I see his body, a new way of keeping himself entertained. He's the opposite definition of boring. He's fucking interesting because I can never figure him out, like he's an entire universe that makes sense but there's just so much in it that there's always something new to discover.

But the thing with his dad, and how I felt in that room filled with the men in his company, made me feel uneasy.

There was something off about the entire meeting. I had realized later that I had been feeling uneasy. Those men didn't feel like the businessmen I thought to them be. They felt dangerous.

And his dad had seemed comforting, but in a threatening kind of way. The only somewhat sane one seemed to be the other guy. That guy who reminded me of my father. The only guy I felt that I could maybe trust at that entire table.

When I told Viktor about how I felt, he brushed it off and said that they were all businessmen and that there was nothing dangerous about neither of them. I also know he was lying his ass off because he got flustered.

Now, that feeling of something being dangerous also extends when I think about my dad and his 'business'. I believe Aleksi told me the truth, and I also believe that my dad has somehow been trying to prepare me for being a part of it.

I focus back at the text from Matteo.

Valentina: yes ofc

Valentina: why?

Matteo: did u talk to ur dad?

Valentina: yes

Matteo: did they find them?

Valentina: idk, they haven't said anything

He reads the message but doesn't reply.

I make myself another coffee and go to open the fridge.

Of course it's empty.

Now that I know the guy/bodyguard/stalker is here for my safety, I decide on walking to the grocery store instead of ordering in.

The closest one is right by Tribeca bridge, barely 300 meters away from my apartment.

I take the first out of the two right turns when I hear people yelling.

People in front of me start running towards the Tribeca bridge.

I'm confused, but I follow them anyway to see what's going on.

I turn right on West Street and stop in my tracks. The breath gets stuck in my throat when I see what everyone is panicking about.

There are two men hanging from the bridge, and it looks like they killed themselves.

I take a step closer, squinting to see better. Their hands have been cut off, so there's no way it's a suicide.

My jaw drops when I look at their faces.

They're the two men who attacked me in the subway two weeks ago.

--

Honestly the story just has a mind on its own, but I'm soooo happy about how it's turning out! I already have the next few chapters planned out.