A seven-letter word which never held much meaning to me.
It tends to happen when you have to survive, instead of living your life.
And there is a great thing about always being in a survival mode. It makes you completely unattached to everyone and everything.
Emotionally. Mentally. Physically.
Because your subconscious already knows you won't have it for long, so getting attached o anything eems idiotic.
But as useless as being loyal to someone may sound, it is tenfold useful if someone is loyal to you.
From my twenty-five years of observation, what I've observed—yes, I believe in observing. You do not know what wonders this trait can do—is that loyal people tend to interpret ambiguous information in favour of whoever they arr loyal to, attributing good intentions and downplaying flaws of the person they are loyal to.
Emotionally, loyalty involves protectiveness, possessiveness, and a sense if belonging.
Behaviorally, it shows consistency; showing up even when its inconvenient, defending someone in their absence—loudly or subtly—staying again and again when leaving would be easier.
And I observed all these symptoms in a certain typical rich, mean, spoiled girl—who thinks the universe revolves around her.
Maya Sokolov.
The name was never meant to surround my life, let alone become a crucial and strategic part of it.
When I saw her for the first time, she was in a banter with my former boss's sister.
And the way she was smirking at her, taunting the relatively smaller girl that she is going to marry her brother—who, by the way, had no interest in her—I knew she was going to be a trouble.
And because my former boss—Jeremy Volkov—loved to give me missions that were less related to mafia and more related to the women in his life, this trouble was given to me to handle.
The order was simple: Don't let her go near boss.
But not only she was unnecessarily mean, she was downright mannerless, pathetic woman who couldn't take a hint even if the hint was converted into so many confrontation by Jeremy's sister, his now-wife and even him himself.
Jeremy couldn't say—or do—much to her anyway cause she was his bestfriend, Nikolai Sokolov's younger sister.
And Nikolai was known for many things, being overprotective for his sisters was one of them.
So he gave me an order to keep her away from him and especially his sister, Annika. Because both woman—whenever—see each other gets into a verbal or sometimes even physical fight.
And the day she dig her heel in my fucking calf just to prove a fucking point, I knew she was going to make it more difficult than it was needed.
Honestly, I don't remember it.
I don't remember the moment my mind stopped getting frustrated from her mere existence to my heart rate increasing whenever she flaunted that shiny platinum hair of her at my face.
And when she kissed me on her birthday—when everyone was too busy with Mia-Landon thing to notice that it was her birthday too—I finally give in to my desires.
After that night, we both came into a secret sexual relationship.
We both started seeing each other every night. Sometimes in her penthouse, Sometimes in my apartment, Sometimes in spot that was just ours.
But she kept me at an arm's length only.
Never let me stay at night or never spent a night with me. Never let me give her aftercare. No unnecessarily texts or calls.
Just sex.
And offcourse, her behavior didn't change a bit.
Until, that night.
When Landon was shot. Her twin finally spoke. And the truth was finally revealed.
But before the truth something else was already revealed.
Her real personality.
I still remember the sarcasm in her eyes, the disgust in her voice, the curling of her lips when she mocked me that night.
"Do you think I really feel anything for you?" She laughed at me. "I didn't get Jeremy because of that fucking white-haired bitch. So, I settled for his guard. His left-behind baggage."
She poked her perfectly manicured finger at my chest. "You're just a guard, Ilya. Just a fucking, no-named guard. Even the cost of my heel is higher than your fucking monthly salary, do you think I will ever look at you more than a nameless guy in my bed?"
I stand still.
My face was completely neutral and my eyes were cold.
Letting her run her bitching mouth.
"Fuck off, Ilya. We are fucking over."
That was the night, she not only killed whatever I felt for her but she hurted something else as well.
My ego.
And the psychotic side of my brain screamed at me. 'Hurt her back', it whispered to me. 'She didn't think twice before hurting you. So yes, Hurt her fucking back.'
I could have forgive her for the sins her parents committed against my family.
Could've forgive her for what my siblings went through due to New York brtava.
Could've forgive her when she broke my laptop in anger which held the information of where my sister was.
But I couldn't forgive her for her words.
And for once I let that side of my brain win.
I was always trained to be keep that dark, psychotic side deep inside me. To not let it win the logical part of my brain.
I am doing it from the age of 13 when my father found me punching the boy, who tried to bully my sister, so ruthlessly that I almost killed him.
That was the day my father knew that I have something wrong in me. And from that day he started training me, and my brain.
Brain is the most powerful organ in a human. It can reshape itself if you wants. But how do you kill who you are? That part of me was never killed, it was buried.
And Maya, the beautiful rich diva, digged her own grave by her fucking words.
And whatever I am, merciful is not one of them.
Meeting with my family again, joining my family's mafia and legal business was never what I wanted, it was needed.
My dad was no longer the man he used to be. My mom—however strong she was—was a woman at last. And in bratva, women do not become head.
My brother was still on some fucking hiatus nobody knew about. So my grandfather called me to take over.
So I took over it.
Joining hands with Japanese Yakuza was a move i knew would blow the mind of New York bratva.
Remember the little loyalty talk we had?
Maya was many things, a blunt speaker was one of them.
Some memes for me cutie, little Divas.
A/N - Before you run after me with whatever you beautiful hands can grab, I know chapter is short. But it's not my fault. Give girl some time to think, Divas.
Moreover, let me know whether you're liking the plot and can connect it with log or not.
A question I wanted to ask was, would you guys like a new GXG or BXB fanfiction? Personally, I want to write GXG, but I do not know how. I even have character in my mind which you may or may not know. (Yes, they are from Rinaverse!).
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People think being born into an ultra-wealthy, powerful mafia family is a blessing.
They think having money that you can spend like water and powerful connections that can buy even the president of the country is amazing.
Fabulous.
Mind blowing.
No kidding, because I have genuinely seen edits of being in the mafia or same kind of shit being romanticized on social media.
Saying I was flabbergasted to know that people romanticize this life would be an understatement.
Because why would you want a life where you can't even walk around freely?
Living your life freely, without a camera constantly watching you?
Completing your own dreams freely, without feeling any internal pressure from the people around you?
To love freely?
To be loved freely?
If I hate something more than myself, it is this mafia life.
Even "hate" is a small word for what I feel for this life. No word can describe the sheer loathing I feel for it.
What hasn't this fucking life snatched from me?
My childhood? Check.
My innocence? Check.
My self-love? Self-esteem? Self-respect? Check.
My parents’ love? Check.
My teen life? Check.
My adulthood? Check.
And now my fucking life was at stake again?
Again?
How many times do I have to prove my worth by dying, just to tell the universe that I want to live?
I want to have a normal life, too.
A normal family.
Was that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
Because when you're Maya Sokolov, you do not have dreams like this.
You have dreams of what people consider big, powerful—something worthy of your last fucking name. Something that matches the reputation of your parents.
But I know I can never achieve it. I can never do anything as legendary as my parents.
Because even if I win the world, my parents have already won the universe in their prime.
So I do what I have always done best: survive.
Boris and Lev—whatever his name was—both thought I had lost consciousness.
I hadn't.
The bullet grazed the side of my stomach, and I was bleeding, but the wound was not so deep that I would lose consciousness entirely.
My eyes had simply rolled back due to sudden shock and blood loss.
I looked around with my half-lidded eyes, searching for a way to exit.
But it wasn't easy.
The staircase leading to the central line was blocked, as I had been informed by the guards.
And I was in the east wing, anyway—too far from the central line. So I couldn't, under any circumstances, reach the tunnel. That was for sure.
The grey smoke and dust were filling the air of the corridor, making it harder to see anything.
Bodies—dead or still half-alive—were scattered around me like leaves around a tree.
Boris and Levi were still fighting, their bodies trying and failing miserably to form a shield around me.
But they were at least trying.
Why does this happen?
Why does your own family sometimes make you feel like a stranger, while strangers make you feel like family?
I couldn't care less if they were doing it on Nikolai’s or Dad's—no, not my dad; Mia’s and Nikolai’s dad’s—orders.
But I know they can't handle it much longer. Their bullets were running out, and the Irish were greater in number than us.
A metallic gleam shined in my peripheral view. I looked there, and yes, there was a gun beside a dead body.
I tore my sweatshirt in half. Pure adrenaline can make you do things you don't even know you're capable of.
I tied the torn cloth around my waist securely before slowly crawling toward that gun.
A small sense of hope gleamed in my chest as I gripped the weapon and checked to see if it had bullets.
Yes, it had four bullets.
The self-defense classes I took were finally paying off. Unlike Mia, I didn't take training from our brothers or father. I was afraid around them. Afraid that maybe they would judge me? Make fun of me? What if I looked pathetic in front of them?
So, I learned it outside.
I quickly tucked the gun into the pocket of my jeans and unzipped the leather jacket from the body of that dead man.
He was a huge man, so it was a bit difficult to take the jacket off his frame. But remember what I said about adrenaline before? Yeah, that.
I quickly threw the jacket on top of my torn sweatshirt.
At least I was now safe from the gazes of men.
I looked around once again. Both Boris and Lev were now taking cover.
And I knew that no matter how hard they tried, they wouldn't be able to save me and themselves both.
I am becoming a burden on everyone. I can't become the reason for their deaths, too.
I have to save myself. By myself. For myself.
Their bullets were almost gone, and the Irish assassins were at the one and only exit of the east wing.
Thoughts started running through my mind—I am surprised that organ still works, though.
From the way they are attacking, it's quite clear they came prepared out of nowhere, with solid strategies.
So it's totally obvious they know the east wing has only one exit, and they are all there killing the guards assigned to the mansion, or the guards are killing them.
I had one option only.
I stood up, ignoring the way my stomach clenched, and ran upstairs—back toward where I had just come from.
I faintly heard Boris saying something to Lev in a frantic voice, but now wasn't the time to care.
And as I thought, the upper floor was ruined, yes, but it was silent as well.
I don't think there are any assassins here. Clutching my gun tightly in my shivering hands, I started walking slowly towards the end room.
I know a room.
Back then, when we came to Russia for our annual vacations, I came into the east wing out of curiosity.
The mansion was huge and beautiful, built in a Gothic style, so of course I wanted to have a look at every corner like the curious cat I have always been.
That room is a store room.
But that's not all.
The store room is connected directly to the basement. And the basement—though it can hold dangers—was the safest option to go from here.
I was taking a risk. But what else could I do? I have to die anyway, so why not die after making some effort.
The air in the upper hallway was freezing, thick with the scent of old dust.
My feet made no sound against the cold floorboards as I dragged myself closer to the heavy oak door at the very end of the corridor.
The store room.
I pushed the door open. It didn't creak, but the heavy silence inside the room rushed out to greet me.
It was dark.
The only illumination came from a high, narrow window covered in grime, casting a pale, sickly grey beam across stacks of covered furniture and dusty wooden crates.
I stepped inside, my eyes instantly scanning the floorboards for the iron ring of the trapdoor.
I knew it was here.
Near the back corner, hidden beneath an old wool rug.
I took two steps forward into the shadows.
Click.
The sound was tiny, but to my ears, it was as loud as a bomb. The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
My entire body went rigid. Before my brain could even process the movement, my instincts took over.
I spun around, raising the gun, my finger instantly tightening against the cold metal of the trigger.
The barrel of my gun settled directly between a pair of cold, dark eyes.
But I wasn't the only one with a weapon.
Another barrel, heavy and black, was pressed firmly against the center of my forehead.
The world stopped spinning. The gunfires outside became a distant hum.
Ilya.
Do you even realise how beautiful you're?
You don't know what effect you have on me, Miss Sokolov.
Shh. Calm down. I am here. You're safe, Maya.
Safe, huh? What a joke that was.
He stood there, framed by the dark doorway, looking entirely unchanged yet completely stranger.
He wore a dark tactical vest over a black shirt, his chest rising and falling in a slow, calm rhythm that infuriated me.
We were frozen. One pull of a trigger from ending each other.
"Move a single muscle, and I will paint this wall with your brains, Miss Sokolov," he whispered.
"Than pull the trigger," I whispered, my teeth chattering from a lethal mix of blood loss and absolute hatred. "Do it. Because if you don't, I will blow your fucking brains out right here."
A cruel, humorless smirk touched the corner of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Still pathetic, aren't you? Disappointed to see that you're still that mean, jealous, overconfident girl who think she can kill me."
His voice dropped an octave. "Heard you even orchestrated the death of your own sister."
My heart stopped for a fraction of a second.
No. I did not orchestrated her death. I would never do that.
Never.
'Oh, stop fucking lying,' a voice sneered inside me death. 'See, he knows this and he is already disgusted. What will happen when he will got to know that he fucked a slut?' The voice laughed.
No, No, No. Come back Maya, Come back.
This bastard knows which buttons to push and he is doing exactly that. Don't give him the reaction he want.
"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, staring in the dark pits of his eyes.
The sheer betrayal—the memory of his hands on my skin, his voice telling me I was safe while he prepared to sell me—turned the blood in my veins to pure acid.
His eyes trailed over me. Making me consious about every goosebumps erupting on my skin.
"You look disgusting in that jacket," he muttered coldly, his eyes tracing the oversized leather jacket I had stolen from the dead assassin. "Whose is it?"
"A man's. Sorry you wouldn't know. Cause you're hardly a man." I snapped, refusing to show him the pain roaring through my body.
"You piece of shit. You absolute coward. Kill me when you have chance. Because someone out their is finding me. And when they will, they will tear your skin apart." I hissed.
Even i know how hollow those last words sounded. But he don't need to know that.
"Save your breath, Maya," he said coldly, his barrel pressing harder against my forehead, forcing my head back half an inch. "Your family forgot you. You're nothing but left-behind baggage."
The words stung worse than the bullet wound in my side, but I refused to let him see it. "I don't need them. And I definitely don't need you."
With a sudden, violent surge of movement, I twisted my body to the side, trying to knock his arm away.
Ilya didn't hesitate.
He anticipated the move, his hand flying out with terrifying speed.
His fingers locked around my wrist like an iron vise, twisting brutally until a gasp of pure agony escaped my lips.
My fingers convulsed, but I didn't drop the gun. I used my other hand, driving my elbow hard against his jaw.
The impact made a sickening crack. Ilya grunted, his head snapping back, but he didn't release his grip.
Instead, his dark eyes flared with a sudden, vicious heat.
"I love when you fight, Maya."
He threw his weight forward, slamming my back into the nearest stack of wooden crates.
The force knocked the remaining air from my lungs, and the makeshift bandage around my waist tore open completely, a fresh rush of warm blood soaking through my clothes.
My knees gave out, but he didn't let me fall.
He pinned me against the crates with his massive frame.
His hand shifted from my throat, his rough fingers sliding slowly down to my jaw, gripping it tightly, tilting my face up to force me to look at him.
His thumb pressed hard against my bottom lip, almost bruising it.
It wasn't a caress.
It was a claim of dominance.
A reminder of who he was.
I clawed at his face, my nails digging into his cheek, drawing thin lines of red.
I kicked, my feet connecting with his shins, fighting with every single ounce of strength I had left.
"Let... go of me..." I choked out, my vision swimming with dark spots.
"Shut up," Ilya hissed, his face inches from mine.
I could smell the familiar scent of rain and on him.
His eyes traveled down to the wet, dark stain spreading across the jacket, his expression hardening into a cold, clinical detachment. "You're bleeding out. You can't even stand, yet you're still trying to fight."
"I'll... kill you," I whispered, my voice breaking.
With a brutal jerk of his arm, he twisted my wrist completely behind my back.
The pain was blinding.
My fingers finally lost their grip, and the heavy gun slipped from my hand, clattering against the dusty floorboards before rolling out of reach beneath a covered table.
I was entirely at his mercy.
"You're not killing anyone, Maya," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low hum that vibrated against my skin. "Because you will the one killed."
"Then do it," I screamed into his face, my voice raw and cracking with pure hatred.
Tears of frustration and physical agony finally blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. "Put the gun to my head and pull the trigger! Or are you too much of a coward to look me in the eyes when you do it?"
"Death is too easy for you," he whispered, his eyes dropping to my mouth before snapping back to mine with an icy finality. "You're going to live. And you're going to remember exactly who owns your life now."
He released my jaw with a harsh shove, making my head snap back against the crates.
Before I could slide to the floor, he hooked his arm around my waist, lifting my limp, bleeding body against his side with brutal efficiency.
I kicked weakly, my hands striking his back, but the blood loss was finally catching up to me.
The world was turning grey around the edges.
"Put me down! I'll kill you, Ilya! I swear to God I'll kill you—"
"Save it," he muttered, completely ignoring my struggles as he walked toward the back corner of the room.
He used his boot to kick the old wool rug aside, revealing the iron ring of the trapdoor.
HOW THE FUCK HE KNOWS ABOUT IT?!
With one swift, powerful motion, he yanked the heavy wooden hatch open, revealing the secondary escape route leading straight out of the eastern perimeter.
He shifted his grip, lowering me down into the dark with himself.
I tried to bite his neck, but he was faster.
He striked on a particular point of my neck.
And finally, I lost my consciousness.
... And faith in my fucking family as well.
A/N : So, hey Divas. I see, you completed the target of last chapter earlier than i expected. Are you all liking the ff this much? *Shy, Shy.*
Well, on your demand I have written a long chapter. And this chapter is the longest chapter I have written till now for this Ff.
From this chapter, the plot will be taking a major twist. So keep reading and supporting.
The air inside the mansion did not shatter all at once.
It cracked.
First came the low, rhythmic thumping of heavy blades slicing through the grey evening clouds—helicopters.
Then came the perimeter alarms, a high-pitched scream that tore through the corridors, immediately followed by the shattering of the outer gates.
Inside the main pavilion, everything had went chaotic. Weapons were drawn from hidden holsters in a matter of seconds.
"Get the perimeter locked down!" Asher's voice boomed over the noise, his massive frame already positioned like a human shield in front of Reina.
Meanwhile, Mia was pale, her fingers digging into the leather of Landon's tactical vest, but her jaw was set, her own pistol raised and ready.
She didn't look back. She let Landon pull her toward the reinforced security doors leading to the subterranean levels.
A few meters away, Kyle had his arm locked firmly around Rai. His face was a mask of cold, unforgiving stone.
He kept Rai pressed tightly against his side, his body absorbing the brunt of the concussive force from the distant explosions as they moved backward toward the central line.
"Brandon! Move!" Nikolai shouted, his voice cutting through the smoke that was beginning to billow from the ventilation shafts.
He was already firing, sending three precise rounds down the eastern corridor where the first wave of attackers had broken through the glass facade.
Nikolai was right beside him, his rifles bullet clearing the corridor long enough for them to fall back into the main hall.
"Gareth is already outside holding the courtyard entry!" Brandon yelled, ducking as few bullets dug inside the marble pillar right above his head.
Nikolai’s face was twisted into a snarl of pure, unadulterated rage, his eyes dark with the thrill of the hunt and the fury.
He didn't say a word to Brandon but his body remained an immovable barrier between his lotus flower and the oncoming fire as they formed the rearguard, pushing the core of the family toward the main escape tunnel.
The family was whole.
They were an army unto themselves. Saving their own, protecting their loved ones, and painting the marble floors with the blood of anyone foolish enough to think they can harm anyone.
But the estate was massive.
And unfortunately, the east wing was a mile away.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
"Miss Sokolov! We have to move now! Now!"
The two bodyguards assigned to her door—Boris and Lev—had burst into the room with their weapons drawn, their faces slick with sweat and desperation.
They didn't look at her with the icy facade she had grown used to over the last two months.
In this moment, they saw a direct order from the Sokolov Heir.
"I... I can't," Maya whispered. The words didn't even leave her throat; they were swallowed by the frantic, roaring of her own pulse.
Her mind had completely fractured.
The sound of the alarms wasn't the estate's warning system, it was the sound of the jungle.
The smell of the smoke wasn't from the burning gates, it was the smell of the damp, rotting leaves where she had been broken.
Every person running across the plush carpet was a hand reaching out to tear her clothes, to pull her back into the dark.
"Miss Sokolov, stand up!" Boris roared, grabbing her upper arm.
The moment his fingers clamped onto her skin, a high-pitched, breathless shriek tore from her lungs. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me, please! I didn't tell him anything... Ilya... please—"
"She’s having a breakdown" Lev swore, his eyes darting toward the hallway as the sound of gunfire began to draw closer to the eastern corridor. "We don't have time for this. Pick her up!"
They didn't wait for her consent. They couldn't. Boris yanked her upward by her arms, but Maya’s legs were entirely unresponsive, dragging uselessly behind her like dead weight.
Her bare feet, already scarred from her own frantic paranoias, smudged against the floorboards as they literally hoisted her off the ground.
She was hyperventilating so severely that her chest was concave, her lips turning a faint, terrifying shade of blue as her lungs refused to expand.
"My phone..." she choked out, her fingers clawing frantically at Boris’s tactical vest, her eyes wild and bloodshot as she stared back at the bedroom. "I don't have... I don't have my phone..."
"Forget the phone! The network is jammed anyway!" Lev shouted, firing two rounds down the intersecting hallway as a shadow crossed the far archway.
"The main escape tunnel is cut off! They’ve breached the central line. We have to take the secondary service stairs to the lower cellars!"
They were rushing her. The speed was agonizing.
Maya couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't distinguish between the ghosts in her head and the men currently dying in the hallways around her.
The world was a spinning wheel of grey stone, flashing red lights, and the deafening, concussive rhythm of gunfire.
They reached the top of the narrow, concrete service stairs when the air suddenly exploded into a shower of sparks and drywall.
Three attackers surged from the lower landing, their weapons raised.
Lev reacted instantly, throwing his weight forward and emptying his gun into the chest of the lead shooter, but the return fire was a chaotic, sweeping hail of lead.
Thwack. Thwack.
Maya felt a sudden, white-hot line of agony slice across the right side of her stomach.
It wasn't a deep penetration, but the heat of the bullet grazing her flesh was instant, an intense pain that felt like a hot iron being pressed directly against her skin.
She gasped, her hands flying down to cover her waist as warm, slick crimson began to seep through the thin fabric of her shirt, staining her fingers.
"She’s hit!" Boris yelled, his voice sounding distant, as if he were shouting from underwater.
He dragged her backward, his own weapon barking as he eliminated the remaining threat on the stairs. "Hold your stomach, Miss Sokolov! Keep pressure on it!"
But Maya couldn't hear him anymore. The sight of her own blood—the bright, terrifying red coating her palms—was the final hammer blow to her fragile sanity.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She simply let her eyes roll back into her head, her body going completely, utterly limp in Boris's arms as the darkness finally rose up to swallow her whole.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Deep beneath the central line, the main escape tunnel's heavy iron security doors had just slammed shut behind the family, sealing out the noise, the smoke, and the immediate threat of the attackers.
The air down here was cool and damp, smelling of old stone and grease.
Kyle leaned against the concrete wall, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as Rai immediately began checking the front of his shirt for fresh blood.
His wound was intact, but the strain was obvious.
Across from them, Landon and Mia were already reloading their weapons, their movements synchronized and silent, while Killian and Gareth stood near the secondary security panel, his eyes glued to the internal monitors.
"The courtyard is clear," Gareth said. "We’ve pushed them back to the tree line. The armored transports are ready at the secondary exit."
Asher kept his arm locked around Reinawaist, his eyes scanning the tunnel ahead, ensuring the path was entirely secure before allowing her to step forward.
Mia was shivering slightly now that the adrenaline was fading, her head resting against Landon’s shoulder as he whispered something low and fierce into her ear.
Nikolai stood at the rear of the group, his chest heaving as he wiped a smear of someone else's blood from his cheek with the back of his leather glove.
Brandon was right beside him, his fingers lightly brushing against Nikolai’s elbow—a quiet, grounding gesture that usually brought him back from the brink of his worst episodes.
Nikolai took a deep breath, his eyes automatically moving down the line of the family, counting the heads out of pure, drilled habit.
The air in his lungs suddenly felt ten degrees colder.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation began to twist in the deepest pit of his stomach—not the sharp, burning heat of rage, but a heavy weight of absolute dread.
He counted again.
Eight.
His mind went back to the tactical map of the estate.
The east wing.
Maya.
Maya.
They had forgotten her
She wasn't in the tunnel.
She wasn't with the main guard.
She was a mile away, in a wing that had been directly in the path of the initial helicopter landing.
"Nikolai?" Brandon whispered, noticing the sudden, terrifying stillness that had overtaken his frame. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Nikolai didn't answer him. He didn't even look at him.
He remembered the way she had shaken under his hands, the way she had collapsed into a pathetic, broken ball on the floor, completely incapable of defending herself against a shadow, let alone a squad of professional assassins.
"Niko!" Brandon’s voice was sharper now, reaching out to grab his wrist.
Nikolai shook his head, his dark eyes snapping to his father, then to Killian, who was standing near the heavy iron doors.
"The east wing," Nikolai said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made every head in the tunnel turn toward him. "Where are the reports from the east wing?"
Killian’s fingers froze over the security panel. He didn't look up as he tapped a few keys, his face draining of color as the internal data feed finally updated.
"The secondary service stairs... Boris and Lev checked in three minutes ago. Maya...Maya is in Boris's arms. They’re taking heavy fire. They’re trying to reach the tunnel."
Everyone in the tunnel froze.
Nikolai turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto his Killian’s eyes.
Before anyone could stop them, Nikolai and Killian lunged forward.
"Nikolai!" Brandon yelled, his hand catching the edge of Nikolai’s jacket one last time.
"Stay with our family," Nikolai commanded over his shoulder, his eyes dark and entirely devoid of hesitation. "If we do come not back in ten minutes, take the transports and leave."
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
A/N - Next chapter after 25 likes and 15 comments.
P. S. - Maya's mental heath us utterly sensitive and unstable. She is not weak. She is not dramatic. She is fighting enough with herself and do not have time to fight with the outer world.
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Two months of waking up in the same high-ceilinged bedroom in the east wing of the Sokolov estate, and I still couldn’t tell if the air in Moscow was actually freezing, or if my soul was finally cold enough to make it numb.
The silence in this room didn't feel empty anymore.
It felt heavy.
Conscious.
Like a demon sitting in the corner, holding its breath, waiting for me to lower my guard.
I sat on the middle of the mattress leaning on the headboard, my knees pulled tightly against my ribs, my arms wrapped around my shins in a vice grip.
My uneven finger nails dug brutally into my skin, the nails biting deep, but I barely registered the dull ache.
I was staring at the floorboards near the bathroom door.
There were no ropes. No knife.
Nikolai had made sure of that. Every sharp object, every piece of cord, every hidden knife—gone.
That day, I thought he hasn't seen the condition of my bedroom. But apparently, nothing goes ignore from the eyes of an heir.
He had made sure to stripped my room bare, leaving me with nothing but plush furniture and velvet drapes.
He thought he was disarming me.
Thought he was keeping me safe from myself.
But he didn't understand.
The ropes hadn't been the danger. The ropes were the only things keeping my soul from slipping out into the dark while I slept.
Now, I was completely untethered.
Completely alone.
Alone.
You’re on your own on this fucking earth, Maya.
I flinched, my teeth clicking together as the whisper echoed directly behind my left ear.
I spun my head around so fast my neck popped, my eyes wide and frantic as I scanned the empty corner of the room.
Nothing.
Just the heavy shadow of the armoire.
But I could still smell it. The sudden, suffocating scent of damp dirt, wet leaves, and rain. The smell of the jungle.
Funny how everything happened in front of mother nature.
I pressed the palms of my hands against my ears, violently biting down on my lip until the copper taste of blood flooded my mouth.
It’s not real. It’s not real. You’re in Russia. You’re safe.
But nowhere felt safe.
Not anymore.
The war was still raging. Two months of endless, bloody conflict between the New York Bratva and the Irish.
Everyone was trapped here under maximum security, the entire family crammed into one mansion while the world outside fought.
And it was all because of me.
Every time I left this room, the weight of their silent condemnation nearly crushed the breath from my lungs.
My relationship with everyone had degraded into a nightmare of strained, icy politeness and hostility.
When I passed my parents in the long, marble hallways, it felt like walking through an active battlefield.
My father was up and walking now. The bullet to his chest hadn't killed him, but the way he looked at me did.
There was no warmth left in his eyes, no fierce protective streak. Just a cold, detached distance.
He spoke to me in short, formal sentences, treating me more like a problematic business associate than his daughter.
And my motherwas no better. She looked through me as if I were made of glass, her voice soft but entirely hollow whenever she asked if I had eaten.
My aunt Reina and uncle Asher were the same. The carsons didn't yell. They just used a quiet, razor-sharp politeness that made me feel like an infectious disease they were forced to tolerate.
Even my cousins, Killian and Gareth, who used to joke and tease, now looked at me with varying degrees of dark suspicion and cold disgust.
To them, I was the leak.
The traitor who had prattled on to an Irish prince.
But it was Nikolai and Mia that broke me completely.
Nikolai didn't look at me with suspicion; he looked at me with an absolute, unwavering hatred.
Every interaction with him was a lesson in terror. My hands shakes uncontrollably in his presence. My mind goes frantic when he looks at me.
He didn't raise his hand to me again, but his voice had hardened into a lethal, venomous whisper that made my knees instinctively want to hit the floor.
He controlled everything.
My food, my movements, my breath.
And Mia... my sister. She was always flanked by Landon, her fiancé, whose glare alone felt like a physical threat.
Mia wouldn't even step into the same room as me.
If our eyes met across the courtyard, she would turn on her heel and walk away, her back rigid with an unforgiving rage.
They all thought I was a monster.
They thought I had knowingly handover the information to Ilya.
Ilya.
Just thinking his name made my stomach give a violent, sickening lurch, followed by a deep ache in my heart.
Just how?
How can he do this to me?
Was he just there to use me? Just to take out the information he needed out of me? Just to make me look like a fool?
If yes, than why did he give me hope? Why did all those... things that made my heart skip a beat? That made my soul find him safe? That made my mind at ease from the demons whenever he was near me?
Was it all a game for him?
I dragged myself off the bed, my legs shaking so violently I had to throw my hand out against the wall to support myself.
I shuffled toward the large, arched window, squinting through the glass at the grey, bleak Moscow sky.
The snow was falling in heavy, aggressive drifts, burying the courtyard below.
Suddenly, the glass in front of me rippled.
I froze, the air freezing in my throat.
The reflection in the window wasn't mine.
The face staring back at me through the frost had dark, mocking eyes and a cruel, familiar smirk.
It was them.
Those men... Mrs. Pratt... Her husband.
They were standing on the other side of the glass, his hands coming up to press against the pane.
"We told you, didn't we?" Their voice hissed, not from the room, but from inside my own skull. "They will hate you if they find out the truth. They will cast you aside like a fly from milk. They will look at you not as their daghter or sister but a liar, a whore, a traitor. "
"No," I choked out, a raw, agonizing sob ripping from my throat. I stumbled backward, my bare feet sliding against the polished floorboards. "No, please... you're not here. You're not here."
I scrambled away until my spine hit the heavy wood of the armoire, pulling my knees tight against my chest again.
"You were always unwanted and unloved, Maya. You will always remain like this. Broken. Dirty. A slut. Our slut." The voices laughed around me.
"No, no, no," I chanted in my mind. "It isn't truth. They are not here... not here."
I rocked myself back and forth, wrapping my arms around my head in a hard grip, trying to drown out the laughter echoing through the silent room.
The hallucinations were getting worse.
The paranoia was eating away at the fragile remains of my sanity until I couldn't even trust my own eyes.
Every shadow was a man tearing my clothes. Every creak of the floorboards was Mrs. Pratt's husband coming back to finish what he started. Every ring of a phone in the distance made me want to tear my own skin off.
I was suffocating. I was drowning in my own breath, while my own mind tortured me with the ghosts of the men who had broken me.
Frantic knocks on my door startled me. I got up quickly, knowing if I opened the door even few seconds late, I'll be bombarded with the questions.
I opened the gate and on the other side was a bodyguard.
That was the exact moment the final thread of my restraint snapped.
The heat flared behind my eyes, a blinding, white-hot rush of adrenaline and pure fury that had been building for the last seventy-two hours.
My eyes were seeing nothing but red.
I yanked her forward with enough force to nearly rip her off her feet, dragging her stumbling body until she was pinned flat against the cold living room wall.
The back of her head hit the wall with a dull thud, and she let out a sharp, breathless gasp.
"Everything you fucking do matters, Maya!" I roared, the volume of my voice rattling the windowpanes of the apartment.
She flinched violently, her eyes widening due to pure terror.
But I didn't care.
"You think you get to hide out in this apartment and pretend the world isn't burning down because of your goddamn stupidity?" I hissed, "You think you get to play the victim? Look at me!"
She wouldn't. She kept her chin tucked down, tears instantly welling up in her eyes and spilling over her pale cheeks.
"I said look at me, Maya!" I snarled, my left hand flying out to grip her jaw, my fingers digging into her skin to force her face upward.
"Niko," Jeremy’s voice cut in from behind me, sharp and warning. "Easy. We don't have the time."
"Stay away from this, Jeremy," I spat over my shoulder, not loosening my grip on her jaw by a fraction.
I wanted her to see the hatred in my eyes. I wanted her to understand exactly what she had done. I had spent the last year carrying the weight of this family, dealing with the truth of Mia’s kidnapping—a trauma that had nearly broken my sister completely—and the entire time, the root of the rot was sitting right in front of me.
"You set up your own sister," I whispered, my voice dropping to a lethal. "But I thought... I actually thought you were just a weak, easily manipulated coward. I didn't think you were a fucking traitor."
Maya’s lips parted, a choked sob escaping her throat. "Nikolai, please—I didn't—I don't know what you're—"
"Don't lie to me!" I roared, slamming my open palm against the wall right next to her ear. The sound was like a gunshot in the small room.
She shrieked, curling inward, but I grabbed her shoulder and forced her flat again.
"Do you have any idea what happened twelve hours ago in New York? Do you have any goddamn clue?"
She just wept, shaking her head back and forth against the wall, her hands clawing weakly at my wrists.
"The Irish hit our main harbor facility," I told her, each word dripping with cold rage.
"They knew the exact schedule of our shipments. They knew the blind spots in our security. They knew the rotation of our guards. They slaughtered twenty of our men in cold blood, Maya. Twenty men who had families, who served the Sokolov name faithfully. And then they went for the estate."
Her breath hitched, her eyes locking onto mine for the first time, filled with a sudden, dawning horror.
"Yes," I sneered. "They breached the perimeter. And Dad took a bullet to the chest trying to hold the line. Our father is lying in a private medical bay right now, surrounded by machines, fighting for hi# life because of you."
"No..." she whimpered, the sound barely human. "No, no, Dad... oh god, no..."
"Don't you dare pretend to care about him now," I snapped, my fingers tightening on her jaw. "And you know who's the traitor who provided information to them? Its you."
"I didn't! I swear to you, Nikolai, I never spoke to any Irishmen! I didn't know anything about the harbor schedules!"
She was hyperventilating now, her chest heaving against mine, her voice cracking into a frantic, desperate shriek.
"Please, you have to believe me, I would never betray bratva. I would never help them!"
"Oh, really?" I let out a dark, humorless laugh that sounded more like a growl. "Then let's talk about Ilya."
The moment the name left my mouth, Maya froze entirely. The frantic writhing stopped. The sobbing cut off into an abrupt, dead silence.
The absolute guilt that flashed across her face was so vivid, so immediate, that it felt like a physical slap.
"Yeah," I whispered, my eyes narrowing as I watched the blood drain completely from her face until she looked translucent.
"That caught your attention, didn't it? Ilya. The sweet, charming boyfriendof yours? The man you let into your bed. The man you and we thought was just a harmless nobody."
"He... he was just..." she stammered, her eyes darting frantically around the room.
"He is an Irish prince, Maya," I spat, the reality of it still turning my stomach into a knot of pure fury. "He was a fucking spy between us. He was Jeremy's bodyguard, yes. But we never let him in our study or gave him clue of any secretive thing. But you know who gave it to him in silver platter? You. He’s part of the inner circle of the faction that is currently trying to exterminate our family. And do you want to know how I found out?"
I didn't wait for her answer. I didn't care about her answer.
"Because the bastard called my personal line three hours ago," I roared, the rage exploding out of me again.
I let go of her jaw. "He called me while I was standing in a puddle of our men's blood at the harbor! He called to mock me. He called to tell me exactly how easy it was to bleed the Sokolovs. And do you know what he said, Maya? Do you want to know what he credited his grand victory to?"
Maya was crying silently now, her entire body trembling so hard she couldn't even support her own weight.
"He told me that the diva sings beautifully behind closed doors," I hissed, the words burning my throat. "He laughed in my face, Maya. He told me that all it took was a few weeks of fucking you, a few compliments, a little bit of attention, and you spilled everything. He knew about our structural weaknesses because you told him. You prattled on about our family's business like a brainless, desperate girl just to keep a man interested!"
"I didn't know!" she screamed, the sound tearing from her lungs, raw and agonizing. "I didn't know who he was! I didn't tell him secrets, I just—we were just talking! I swear to God, Nikolai, I didn't know!"
"That makes it worse!" I lost control. The sheer, blinding fury over my father’s injury, over Mia’s broken state, over the twenty dead bodies currently sitting in a New York morgue—it all fused into a single, violent impulse.
I was about to do something i will probably regret later but Jeremy held me back.
"We need her conscious,Nikolai!" Jeremy yelled directly into my ear, his grip tightening until my ribs cracked. "Look at her! If you hit her now, she’s going to pass out, and we don't have time to carry eeight through an extraction! The Bratva is under total threat. The Pakhan gave a direct order—every single family member goes back to Russia immediately under maximum security. That includes her!"
"She doesn't deserve protection!" I spat, my chest heaving as I finally stopped fighting Jeremy's grip, though my glare remained locked onto the trembling girl collapsed on the floor.
The moment I had been torn away from her, Maya’s knees had completely given out. She had slid down the wall and was now curled into a tight ball on the hardwood floor, her arms wrapped around her head, weeping so violently her entire torso was shaking.
I stared down at her, the sheer, unadulterated disgust inside my chest bubbling up like acid.
Look at her. The great Maya Sokolov. The diva. Her hair was a tangled, bird-nest disaster, her face was completely devoid of color, and her lips were bitten raw, practically oozing fresh blood. She looked like a corpse that had crawled out of a shallow grave, and sometimes twisted violently inside my chest.
But i ignore it.
20 men were killed due to her carelessness.
"Get up," I growled, my voice cold as ice now.
Maya didn't move. She just kept rocking back and forth on the floor, her muffled sobs filling the silent apartment.
"I said get the fuck up, Maya," I repeated, stepping around Jeremy. I walked over to her, reached down, and grabbed her by her shoulders.
She let out a sharp, choked cry of pain, her hands flying up to grasp at my wrist.
"Listen to me very carefully," I whispered. "You are going to stand up. You are going to walk out of this door, and you are going to get into the car. If you make a single sound, if you shed one more fucking tear, or if you slow us down by even a second, I will forget that we share the same blood. Do you understand me?"
She couldn't speak. She just nodded frantically, her teeth chattering together so hard I could hear them clicking.
"Good." I released her.
Jeremy moved past me, his eyes scanning the hallway outside before turning back to us. "The perimeter is clear for now, but our spotters report a suspicious vehicle three blocks down. We need to move. Now."
"Get up," I ordered coldly, turning my back on my sister. "Otherwise i will carry you."
"I can walk," Maya whispered from the floor.
She pushed herself up, using the wall for support, her legs shaking so violently it looked like she was walking on ice.
She didn't look at me. She didn't look at Jeremy. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her own chest as if she were trying to hold her shattered soul together.
She took a step forward and almost stumbled. I knew she was in no position to walk. And we dont have enough time for this.
I stepped forward and took her in my arms. And i freeze.
Because she was as weightless as a leaf. I looked at her face for a second, the red haze siding for a second. Her eyes were closed, and her body stiff.
"Niko, move." Jeremy said, breaking my thoughts.
I nodded, moving forward.
We left the apartment behind, stepping out into the damp, grey morning air.
The armored SUV was idling at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the bleak sky.
As I forced Maya into the back seat and slammed the heavy, reinforced door shut, I made myself a silent promise.
A/N : Next chapter after 10 comments and 20 likes.
Maya will stay the fuck away from everything and everyone. In that case, neither she will hurt anyone nor she will be able to do something more worse.
"To all the woman who are broken but not shattered."
A/N:
Hello Divas.
First of all, I do not own any characters written above (they are Rina Kent's) but I do own the plot.
This is a Fanfiction, written solely by my imaginations.
Second of all, This story is taking place right after Mia and Sokolov family discovers Maya's secret.
And according to me, Maya and Ilya were not in relationship but a fling thing and their emotional tangling was pure one-sided.
I can assure you that in starting chapters Maya will be vulnerable, depressed and heavily mentally unstable, but she will won over everything like a diva she is.
End game with her will be Ilya Livetsky only.
And most important thing, thanks for reading this. I hope you all are enjoying it. And yes, I am gonna post a chapter soon, so stay tuned.
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I ran as fast as I could, my bare feet colliding with the sharp pebbles and damp dirt of the jungle.
But it was to no avail.
A dark hand gripped my hair from behind, yanking me backward with brutal force.
I thrashed wildly, biting into their hand with my teeth, scratching at his face—anything to keep him away from me.
Away from my body.
Away from my fucking soul.
A sharp slap landed on my cheek. Hard.
Followed by another one. And then another. And another.
Until I could hear nothing but a high, sharp stinging in my ear.
Another pair of hands grabbed my collar, tearing my dress completely in half.
I screamed.
Or, at least, I thought I did.
I couldn't even tell if sound was leaving my throat anymore.
"You fucking bitch," they snarled directly into my face, groping my naked breasts harshly. "Rai is so fucking proud, isn't she?"
Before I could even process the words, another pair of hands tore at my undergarments, forcefully thrusting their fingers inside me. I screamed.
I knew…
"Let's see how proud she remains when she finds out her own daughter is getting fucked by the men she insulted," he sneered.
I knew there was no going back.
I knew I would never be who I was again.
I knew.
And then, two men forced themselves inside me.
At once.
And I screamed.
I woke up with a violent jerk.
My breath was ragged, coming so fast and shallow that I was sure I was going to tear my own windpipe.
Panic mounting, my hand flew to my chest, rubbing and pressing down against my sternum as hard as I physically could.
With shaking hands, I tried to untie the ropes from around my legs.
When my trembling fingers couldn't unknot them, I desperately grabbed the knife I kept hidden under my pillow.
I cut the ropes shakily, the blade nicking the skin of my feet in my desperation, but I barely felt it.
I tried to rise too quickly, causing my knees to buckle. I collapsed heavily onto the floor.
The sobs wouldn't calm down, and my chest physically ached from the sheer violence of how I was inhaling.
Crawling toward the small table, I managed to grab a glass of water. I tried to force it down my throat, only to choke violently on the liquid.
I punched my own chest, desperate to break the spasm, but nothing was working.
Am I going to die like this? Choking on my own breath?
I laid flat on the cold floor, tears streaming from my eyes while heavy, breathless sobs ripped from my mouth, shattering the otherwise silent air.
Suddenly, the sharp ring of my phone sliced through the room.
I tried to force my head up, squinting through the dark. Who could be calling this late? Did I do something wrong again?
I somehow managed to drag myself over and grab the phone, wiping my blurry eyes harshly to read the screen.
It was an unknown number.
My brain flared with instant alert.
Who could it be?
Despite the terror, I swiped to answer. I pressed the phone against my ear, violently biting down on my own wrist to anchor myself—anything to stop a sob or a gasp from escaping down the line.
There was a agonizing silence on the other side before a voice finally broke it.
"Hello?"
I froze.
No, it couldn't be.
It couldn't be him.
No, it can't… it just can't.
"Hello?" the voice repeated.
With a choked gasp, I threw the phone across the room, wishing with everything in me that it would shatter against the floorboards.
I scrambled backward, dragging myself away until my spine hit the wall.
I pulled my knees tight against my chest, wrapping my arms around them in a vice grip. I rocked myself back and forth, my heavy sobs mixing with unheard, desperate prayers to ease the crushing pain in my chest.
But it just wouldn't ease.
And soon, the darkness swallowed me whole, and I lost consciousness.
Next Morning.
I woke up to the sound of heavy, aggressive banging on my door.
Opening my eyes slowly, an instant, stinging ache throbbed through my head and chest.
I struggled against the stiffness in my limbs as I sat up, realizing with a jolt that I was still lying on the hard floor.
Then, the memories of last night came flooding back in a brutal wave.
Oh. So I lost it again?
I didn’t have time to think any further.
The banging on the door was growing louder, getting more intense with every passing second. It sounded like whoever was on the other side was going to break the wood right off its hinges.
I had to be quick.
I stood up, swaying slightly on my feet, but I threw my hand out to support myself against the wall.
After roughly rubbing my face and running a frantic hand through my tangled hair, I finally unlocked and cracked open the door.
My eyes met a rage-fueled Nikolai and Jeremy.
Nikolai. Jeremy.
Here.
Nikolai and Jeremy. Two incredibly strong, dangerous men. Here.
Me.
Alone.
Alone.
A fresh surge of pure panic flooded my veins. I slammed my weight forward, trying to shove the door shut, but Nikolai was faster.
He forced his boot and shoulder right into the gap, blocking the way.
I kept throwing my weight against the wood, trying to force it closed, until the cold reality hit me.
I couldn't, can I?
Who was I kidding?
I can't fight a man.
A man.
But I can run, right?
Even if don't work.
But atleast, I can try.
Abruptly letting go of the door, I spun around and ran deeper into the apartment. I sprinted blindly, desperately trying to find a way out—until a heavy hand caught me from behind.
No, No, No.
Not again.
Not fucking again.
"Fucking Leave me," I roared, biting the hands again, scratching blindly.
Just like i did that night.
The sheer strength behind the grip didn't just stop my body; it stopped the air in my lungs.
"Maya! Stop fucking running!"
The voice wasn't the one from my nightmare, nor was it the voice from the midnight phone call.
It was deeper, colder, and saturated with an authority that made my knees instinctively want to hit the floor.
I stopped thrashing, my body going completely rigid under his touch.
The phantom heat of the jungle, the smell of dirt and rain from my nightmare, vanished, replaced instantly by the suffocating reality of the present.
I didn't look at Jeremy, who was closing the door behind them and locking it with a heavy, final click.
My eyes were locked entirely on Nikolai.
Ever since the truth had come to light—ever since the fragile illusion of our family had shattered and he discovered my role in Mia’s kidnapping—Nikolai had familiarized me with a side of himself I never knew existed.
Before, he was the protective, albeit stern, older brother.
Afterward, he became a stranger wrapped in an unforgiving, terrifying rage.
The memory of the day he found out was burned into my retinas: the look of absolute disgust in his eyes, the way his voice had dropped to a lethal whisper, promising me that the only reason I was still breathing was the blood in my veins.
From that day on, fear hadn't just been an emotion when it came to Nikolai. It was a physical reflex.
"Let... let go," I choked out, my voice sounding incredibly small.
Nikolai didn't release his grip. Instead, his sharp, dark eyes swept down my form, taking in my disheveled hair, the pale cast of my skin.
His brow furrowed, his expression shifting from pure irritation to something deeply suspicious.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the sparse walls of my apartment. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Why were you trying to bar the door?"
"You were banging," I whispered, my eyes darting down to his boots, unable to hold his gaze. "I... I thought you were someone else."
"Someone else?" Jeremy stepped forward, his tone calmer than Nikolai's but carrying the heavy weight of a Pakhan's enforcer. "Maya, your apartment complex is locked down. No one gets up here without us knowing. Who did you think it was?"
"It doesn't matter," I muttered, trying to pull my arm back.
"First of all, you ruined everything. And now, when we are trying to give you another chance, you're ruining it as well by behaving like a fucking bitch?" He scoffed.
His grip on my wrist was so tight, I knew there will be marks left. I didn't struggle in his grip, knowing it would just hurt more.
"Chance? Humiliating me in front of everyone seems like a chance to you?" I asked, my voice deep with emotions.
"You are not even feeling a fraction of what Mia felt!" Another loud voice pierced in the air.
Landon King.
I tilted my head up to look at him. He was coming from the entrance. But he wasnt with his usual loops idea smirk or cockiness.
He was looking murderous.
Dangerous.
"You call yourself her sister, huh? Her twin? But you know what you're? A selfish bitch who wanted all the attention for herself that's why she ruined her sister's life."
"No I didn't." I yelled back.
No. No. No.
He was lying. I didn't do that, right? I wasn't that selfish. I was... I was helpless, right? Right?
I could feel my mind going hazy, the demons inside me ready to eat me out, to take over my mind. And I knew I was about to lose it, and I needed to go outside from this fucking house.
I struggled in Gareth's grip. "Fucking leave me," I gritted. His grip only tightened. "And now your dramas. Please stop these." He uttered.
"Don't you ever get tired with all these dramas of yours?" Killian sneered.
"Oh, she dont. She loves drama and creating them." Gareth said back.
"She was always an attention seeker." Mia said.
No.
Please, leave me.
Please.
"Leave her," a deep British accent yelled, cutting the air with it. It was Brandon.
At his loud voice, all of them stopped, shocked. Even Landon and Nikolai was shocked. Gareth finally left my wrist, and I literally ran away from the house, not looking back.
Because I know, if I did, I will loose whatever sanity I have left.
I was always good at ruining good moments with my presence.
Some people called me Attention seeker.
Some people called me Diva bitch.
So, who would stop me from ruining another moment as well?
So here I am.
In Heathen's mansion.
Even after the way my so called cousins humiliated me at the campus.
This mansion, which once felt like home, is now suffocating me with its 4 walls. There are just so many memories. So many moments. I can not just forget them this easily.
Even though those memories are suffocating me now.
I stepped inside, and the guards greeted me as usual with their "Miss sokolov."
Talking about guards, I do remember one guard as well. The guard who helped me joint myself together only to shatter me again.
And once again, it was my mistake. I was the one who ruined our relationship.
Oh god, why am I such a hateful person? Why am I such a disappointment to everyone I love? Why i end up with people always hating on me?
I stepped inside the party hall and as expected the hall was filled with the buzz of excitement, thrill, and happiness.
My siblings, my cousins, all were with their partners.
Cecily was sitting on Jeremy's lap, both drinking. Killian was eating Glyndon's mouth while pinning her on a pillar. Gareth was sitting with Mr. Lockwood from law school. His arm draped around Gareth's shoulder.
My eyes drifted towards the side where Nikolai was with Brandon, saying something to Brandon while Brandon shook his head like he was done with Nikolai.
My breath became unevened as I looked at Nikolai's face.
I dont understand why am I overreacting? But I can't forget that night's Nikolai. Those raged eyes still shook me to the core.
So I averted my eyes quickly, trying to find the person who was the victim of my cowardice.
Mia. Mia was not there.
I was thankful for a moment that I wouldn't have to face her but that reality crashed very soon.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mia's hateful voice pierced my heart, making me physically flinch.
Never in my wildest dream did I think she would talk to me in that tone one day.
Her voice was loud enough for us to attract attention. Nikoali, My cousins, their partners, and all their other friends were looking at both of us now.
Mia was standing right before me in a beautiful black short dress while her hair was tied in her usual ribbons. She was looking beautiful.
My sister was always beautiful. Inside and Out.
Her eyes narrowed when I didn't answer. I just couldn't. My words were stuck in my throat.
"Who the fuck invited you?" She asked, her venom directly towards me.
My ears turned red from the amount of humiliation I was feeling right now.
Who would have thought that The Maya Sokolov would face this day.
I wanted to scream at her that this was my house too, that I don't need hers or anyone's permission to be here, but I just couldn't.
I was about to say something pathetic when Nikolai stepped in, making me take 2 steps back.
"I called her, Pumpkin," he said to Mia gently. I could feel his gaze on my eyes but I didn't look up from the floor.
And now a thing became crystal clear to me.
I was afraid of Nikolai.
It was pathetic, but it was true.
Gareth, knowing a scene is going to create now, started escorting other people out.
"Well, well, look who is here? Isn't she the secret keeper - oops, Ms. Jealous herself?" Killian tsked, walking towards us with his arms crossed on his muscular chest.
I clenched my fist, refusing to retort back. After gathering courage, I looked up at Nikolai, only to find him looking at me. I can't decipher what was in his eyes, but I just knew there was anger and hate for me.
"Did you call me here to humiliate me?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper. My hands trembled so bad inside the pockets of my jacket that from his cold gaze that I needed to peirce my nails in my skin to keep me grounded.
"How dare you?" Killian lunged forward, making me flinch.
Thank god, his girlfriend held him back.
"How dare you question us when you're the one who ruined everything, huh? You're the one who made Mia suffer for years. You're the one who took her voice from her." He roared.
I wanted to defend myself, but isn't he saying truth? Didn't I ruin everything?
At my silence, he became even more engaged. "Fuck with your silence. From that night you're silent like a motherfucking statue. What? Are you too guilty to say anything now? Huh?"
"See, you're the problem, Maya. Because of you our party is spoiled. Don't you ever see how much big a problem you're or are you too busy consoling yourself that you're a so-called diva?." Mia sneered.
Her words hurt like a bitch, but I didn't dare to look at her.
"As I said before, Killian, I won't give anyone any explanations. You all think that I ruined everything and maybe it's the truth. So I won't be giving you any explanations." I yelled back before turning back to go from there.
The sunrays filtered through the blinds of my bedroom, hitting my eyes directly, making me stir in my sleep.
I opened my eyes slowly, a little bit disoriented and hazy as I didn't have much sleep last time.
Another same day, huh?
I took a deep breath, my chest aching slightly. I sat on my bed with a little bit difficulty before taking off the comforter from my body.
I looked at my ankles. They were tied together with a jute rope. I tied them. As it was a necessity.
After that night, my nightmares became insane. I thrashed in my sleep so hard the first few days, I fall from the bed causing my head to bump with the side table.
When I found no way to stop those nightmares, I started tying my ankles from the bedpost with the help of rope, so at least I don't fall from the bed while thrashing in my sleep.
With a sigh, I opened the rope from my ankles. And yes, there were some crimson red marks, and blood was oozing from a few places.
Ignoring it, I looked at the clock and yes, I have to get ready for my college fast.
After freshening up, and taking a long cold shower I stepped inside my closet room.
When it becomes too much for heart to feel, it stopes feeling altogether. When it stop feeling altogether, It stops caring.
And that's what happened with me.
Me—Maya Sokolov, the girl who used to step outside only if she is wearing a heavy amount of makeup and flashy clothes that were meant to attract attention—now do not have energy to do even the simplest makeup.
That's how lost I am.
I draped the first thing that came in my hand.
A black turtleneck—which was hugging my body like a second skin—tucked neatly in black pants with ankle length boots. Well, I won't be freezing from Britain's cold now, that's a win.
I gathered my once-shiny long blonde hair in a sleek ponytail before applying some minimal makeup and stepping out in the kitchen to eat as I hadn't eaten from yesterday morning.
Even though my stomach contracts at the thought of eating, I knew this would not do any good to me in the long term, and I will have to eat.
I made myself some vegetable sandwich and a cup of black coffee and literally swallowed it inside.
Making sure I had everything in my bag pack for college, I locked my apartment and went down through the private lift.
Even though my relationships with my parents are strained now, I still have access to monthly allowances and security.
My monthly allowance comes directly in my bank account without any call from my parents, and my security just do their job, not bothering to engage with me even a little.
A guard opened the door of the black Rolls-Royce for me, and I stepped in.
In few minutes, I reached the college and college went like every other day.
Lectures. Curious glances. Presentations. Assignments. Exam tension or whatnot.
After the last class ended, I stepped out, wanting to just go home and sleep for a few hours.
Nowadays, my body has been getting tired too easily. I knew this was not a good symptom, but I couldn't care less.
I was walking on the campus, looking at my phone, and there was no notification from anyone that mattered.
I really-
"Ow," a sudden yanking on my ponytail from behind stopped me in my tracks, I turned around and my heart dropped in my stomach.
Killian and Gareth.
And surely, Kilian yanked my hair.
"What?" I asked, my voice was hoarse, and then I realised I haven't spoken in... what? 1 week?
Killian stepped closer, with that infuriating smirk of his, making me take a step back instinctively.
What a psycho.
"Im hurt, blondie," he said mockingly. "No greetings after no contact from last 3 months, huh?"
My heart was racing so quickly in my chest, i was surprised it didn't come out from my ribcage.
But i can't afford to let them see my weakness.
I cleared my throat, squaring my shoulders. "Quit the act. I know you didn't stop me because you suddenly miss me. So, what is it?" I asked, my voice coming more defensive than i thought.
And i regretted it. Cause do i even have right to be defensive now?
And I seriously don't want to became more bad in their eyes now.
Killian's eyes narrowed slightly like he is trying to see behind the facade. "Well, I should ask what is it. Because I think you still have to give us some proper fucking explanations." He said, and I can sense the anger radiating from his body.
That freaked me a little, but I didn't show it.
Suddenly, the images of Nikolai from that night surfaced in front of my eyes, making me gulp.
"I am not going to give you or anyond any fucking explanations. So kindly, fuck off."
"You fucking traitor, because of you our Mia-"
Before killian could say more, Gareth stepped forward, placing one hand on killian's shoulder to move him back from me.
Since when did their relationship became so close? I wondered. Because I remember that they do not used to have this simple equation.
"Maya, Would you stop with this bitch act now? Its getting old." Gareth said frustratingly.
And it hurt, God. It hurt so bad.
"There is a house party in Heathen's mansion tonight, and I can't fucking understand why but Niko asked me to tell you this." Gareth said, his voice bored, like he can't bother to keep this conversation.
House party? Mansion? Why the fuck is he suddenly inviting me to a party? After 3 months of radio silence?
"I-"
Gareth cut me off with an eye roll. "We don't have time for your bullshit. If you want to come, then come. Otherwise, don't. Though it will be better if you do not come."
My fist clenched tightly at his tone. I can't believe he is the same guy who used to watch K-dramas with me and do gossip.
Killian gave me a last once over, and with that, they both went from there.
What is the most foolish thing a person can do in their life?
Making wrong decisions.
Sometimes, you make them unknowingly, and sometimes, you make them intentionally even though you know that they can produce the worst outcomes.
But still you make them.
Not because you didn't have a choice but because you were too coward, too afraid to acknowledge the possibilities that will happen if you don't make those decisions.
I made it.
A wrong decision.
When I was 8.
To remain silent.
To become a coward hiding behind flashy armour.
To let my sister, my other half, my twin, suffer.
To keep my whole family in shadow.
But as they say, you can hide the truth only for a matter of time than it will be revealed.
And when it will, it will kick your ass twice harder.
And it did.
Oh, girl, how it fucking did.
That night. That fucking unfortunate night.
The night Mrs. Pratt came in front of Mia, and Landon took the bullet for her.
It was the worst night in my entire life.
Even worse than that night.
Saying my entire life was built on lie won't be a lie. From the night me and my sister was kidnapped, i knew we—our family—would not be the same as before because i will be hiding things i am not supposed to be.
That night, I lost my everything.
My sister.
My family.
Their Trust.
Myself.
I hoped—like a foolish girl I was, I hoped—that maybe just maybe my wrongdoings would be forgivable.
Maybe they all will forgive me.
But I forgot, trust broken once can not be repired again no matter how hard you try.
It was like glass. You can try but it would not be the same again.
It's been 3 months since that night.
3 months.
Mia is not talking to me. Hell, she doesn't even look at me. She changes her path if she sees me coming.
That's how much she hates me now.
Loathes me.
My relationship with my parents is strained nowadays. Why would it not be? Practically, I am a traitor now.
A traitor who knew who the kidnappers were, who was still in contact with the kidnappers, and still chose not to tell her family.
And the worst part? I understand them.
How can they look at me and not see Mia suffering for years? How can they forget the image of her thrashing in her slesp due to nightmares? How can they forget the efforts it took to make our family feel like family again?
How can they just forget everything? They can't. And i can't expect them to do so.
Mom has contacted me twice from that night and dad... he hasn't once.
As for Nikolai... I still remember his loud, raged voice, his furious eyes, when he found out the truth. That was the first time I was introduced to Nikolai's wrath, and it genuinely filled me with bone-cracking fear.
So much fear that I was thankful he has not contacted me since then.
No wonder people avoid him when he is going through his episodes.
I live in the same apartment me and Mia used to share before. But after that night, Mia moved out from our apartment to love with Landon, and I live completely alone now.
My equation with my cousin—Killian—was never good, and even Gareth has stopped texting me. Not even asking me about those stupid K-drama recommendations.
In college, I avoid them all as much as I can. Its not even difficult.
It's quite easy, actually. I am in the law department, and besides Gareth, nobody is from the law department. And Gareth and my classes—fortunately—are not at the same times.
I avoid going to places I know they can be present.
And about my so-called friends, well, even i know they are backstabbers and only using me for my money and name, so I cut them off too.
So yes, I am completely, utterly, fantastically alone now.
How fabulous.
How good.
Amazing.
But it's ok.
If I am not dying, I can survive this.
I can survive this.
I can survive this.
I can survive this.
I can survive this.
Maybe, if I repeat it again and again, my mind will start believing it.
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As a reader who is obsessed with heavy angst, misunderstandings, and complex female characters with bad past, I was naturally attracted towards Maya Sokolov, from Legacy of God's series by Rina Kent.
Not gonna lie, Rina did her so, so fucking bad. Maya and Ilya's book had a major potential of tropes like heavy angst, misunderstanding, second chance, yearning, bodyguard X mafia princess, and Mafia romance. But of course, we weren't granted their book.
Like in any of her books I've read till now, I have not seen much yearning from mmc or fmc. She could have given that in Maya's book. But here we are.
Talking truthfully, there is not much depth in any of her God of Legacy books. All have same patterns. Mc getting obsessed with Fc - Them having secret relationship - Something reveals - One of the main character gets into accident - Their father's pov - Happy ending.
But we could have got something different in Maya's and Ilya's book.
I don't know if it's true or not, but I have heard that she said that there will be no book for Gareth, but she gave him a book. So I am just hoping she can give maya's book too in the future.
Rina said her schedule is completely filled till 2027 with her MM books, but I am still manifesting we will get our queen Maya's book.
She deserves so much better than what she was given. I need to know her side of the story too. What she went through, how she coped, what really happened.
Because if we just see from Mia's pov, Maya will always be a villain.
And we know she isn't one. She was a child too.
And till we are not getting her book, I am writing a ff.
