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There are seven years between us both, but he never let that mean anything.
We were a team, the two of us, with Papa leading the way.
I remember how Dario would tease me when we were younger, but he somehow always knew the right thing to say to get me out of my moods, and to make me laugh again.
There was never a moment where I doubted his love for me; his protectiveness was fierce, and nobody couldeverdo anything to me without feeling my brother’s wrath.
But now, everything is different.
Dario is not here to hold me when I cry, and Papa is not here to tell me that everything will be okay.
I can’t even talk to them—that video is my only hope.
A bitter ache fills my chest as I think of the men in my family, wondering if they’re looking for me, wondering what must be going through their minds.
I have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve been taken. I have no idea if I’m still in England.
From their accents…I doubt it.
My family has always kept me safe, always fought for me. But now…now, I’m all alone.
Alone with Nikolai.
Alone with Mikhail.
They both promised to protect me. They both promised to keep me safe.
And now…
I clench my fists, squeezing my eyes shut.
Somebody has his hand on my head, stroking my hair, and the other has his hand on my middle, stroking my flesh.
I can’t tremble like this in front of them. I can’t let them think that I’m weak.
But no matter how much I try to hold it together, the ache remains.
The emptiness in my heart.
The longing for my family.
And I hate it.
I hate how small and fragile I feel without them here, without the love they’ve always given me.
Papa’s deep voice echoes in my head, followed by Dario’s teasing tone.
The weight of everything feels so heavy now.
I should be angry.
Angry with Nikolai.
Angry with Mikhail.
But every single time that I try to be, I can’t.
They’re always there, their presence so close, so undeniable.