Page 31 of Mafia King’s Broken Vow (New York Bratva #5)
“I think she’d be proud of you every single day,” I tell him honestly. “And I think she’d want you to grow up knowing that being good is harder than being strong, but that it’s more important.”
He considers this with typical seriousness. “Is that why you got sick? Because being good is hard?”
The kid understands a whole lot. But maybe that’s what Ana would have wanted—a son who thinks beyond the surface, who grasps the complexity of the world he’s been born into.
“Partly,” I admit. “I forgot how to be good for a while. I let being angry matter more than being the person your mother would have wanted me to be.”
“But you remembered?”
“I’m remembering,” I correct. “Every day, I try a little harder.”
“Good,” he says with satisfaction. “Will you come back soon? I mean, I know you’re busy getting better, but…”
“I’ll come back,” I promise. “As often as I can.”
“And you’ll keep teaching me things? Not just basketball stuff, but other things too?”
“What other things did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Uncle things. Like how to be brave when you’re scared, or how to know if someone is lying, or how to make people laugh when they’re sad.”
The requests are so earnest, so specific, that I realize Damien wants me in his life. Wants me to matter, to be present, to be someone he can count on.
The responsibility should terrify me. Instead, it settles over me like armor, protective and purposeful.
“I can teach you those things,” I tell him. “But you have to promise me something in return.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll always try to be the person your mother imagined. Even when it’s hard. Even when being good feels impossible. Promise me you’ll choose to be light instead of darkness.”
He nods solemnly. “I promise, Uncle Yakov.”
“Good man.”
We practice a few more escapes, but the energy has shifted. We’re not just playing now; we’re building something. Trust, connection, the foundation of the relationship Ana dreamed of for us.
When Aleksander appears in the doorway to signal our time is up, Damien groans with disappointment.
“Already?” he protests.
“Time moves faster when you’re having fun,” I tell him, helping him to his feet.
Igor appears behind Aleksander, assessing the scene. “Did you guys have fun?”
“Uncle Yakov is the best teacher ever,” Damien announces. “Can he come back next week? Please?”
Igor’s gaze meets mine over his son’s head.
In it, I see a question and a challenge.
Are you committed? Are you going to be someone this child can depend on?
Despite everything between us—the hatred, the betrayal, the years of planning each other’s destruction—we both want the same thing now.
For Damien to be safe. For him to have the childhood neither of us enjoyed.
“If it’s allowed,” I say quietly.
“It’s allowed,” Igor replies. “Same time next week.”
Damien hugs me goodbye with the same enthusiasm he showed when I arrived, and I find myself holding on longer than I should. When I finally let go, he looks up at me with pure trust.
“Remember what I taught you?” I ask.
“The ball will be there when I reach for it,” he recites seriously. “I just have to trust it and keep trying.”
“Good man,” I tell him. But we both know he learned more than basketball today.
The drive back to the mansion is quiet. Aleksander doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t probe for details. But I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking.
For weeks, I’ve been focused on proving I’m more than a weapon, on earning freedom, on navigating the complex politics of my captivity. But today, holding my nephew, listening to his questions, seeing Ana’s eyes in him…
Today, I remember what I’m really fighting for.
Not revenge. Not power. Not even freedom.
Family. Connection. The chance to be someone worth looking up to.
When we reach the mansion, I head straight to my room, but not to brood or plan. For the first time in months, I’m not thinking about strategy, survival or the careful balance of keeping myself valuable while appearing harmless.
I’m thinking about next week. About what I’ll teach Damien, what stories I’ll share about Ana, what kind of uncle I want to be to him.
And underneath it all, threading through every thought like a golden wire, is the growing certainty that whatever Nikolai and Igor decide about my future, whatever freedoms or restrictions they place on me, I have something worth protecting now.
The text from Mila arrives as the sun sets, her name lighting up my phone screen.
Mila: How did it go with Damien?
I stare at the message for a long moment, considering how to capture everything that’s shifted inside me today. Finally, I type back:
Me: Complicated. Good complicated. I’ll tell you tonight.
Because that’s what tonight is for—Mila. The woman who makes me want to be worthy of her faith, who sees potential for goodness in me that I’m only beginning to believe in myself.
Damien showed me what I’m fighting to protect. But Mila…
Mila shows me who I might become.
And for the first time since Ana died, I’m looking forward to the future instead of running from the past.