Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Everything’s at rest. Peaceful. Right.
I want to tell her to stay. I want to tell her she has a place with us, that she can move in, and that it will be good for Luka.
For me.
But I don’t want to push her too fast, too soon.
She looks over my shoulder at the video of Luka and smiles. “Sweet boy.”
After a few moments, Ruthie shifts again, turning her head slightly to look up at me. “How did you become such a good dad, Vadka?” she asks, her voice still tinged with that trace of sadness. “You had such a shitty example.”
I shrug. “You’re right, I did. I decided at an early age I wouldn’t be who my father was. It was easy enough sometimes. Others, it was learned behavior I had to reverse.” I shrug. “So I watched. I learned from the good ones. My uncle, for one. Even Rafail—he was like a father figure in his own way, especially after he had to become their guardian.”
“You learned from Rafail?” she asks, her eyebrow arching in mild disbelief.
I smile and nod. “Yeah. He’s rough around the edges, but he knows what matters.”
Ruthie smiles at that, a soft, affectionate expression. “Well, it worked. Luka’s lucky to have you.”
“Lucky to have us,” I correct gently, nudging her with my shoulder.
She chuckles softly, her head leaning back against me. The weight of the world feels a little less heavy in these moments. I can feel her relaxing, her trust in me, in us, settling into something solid and grounding.
We sit there in silence for a while, the only sound the steady rhythm of our breathing, as if time has slowed down just for us. It’s rare, these moments of peace.
But peace doesn’t last. It never does.
The Irish are coming. Ruthie is hiding something from me. She’s ready to run.
The sharp trill of my phone breaks through the calm. I glance at the screen, my stomach tightening. It’s Rafail.
I swipe to answer. “Rafail,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
Sometimes, words hit you with the knowledge that this… this is the moment that will change everything. I know it when I hear him. I know this is the moment that could threaten the entire annihilation of my family, the brotherhood.
“Vadka,” Rafail says quickly, his tone low. “I need you. It’s happening.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My fingers tighten around the phone, the calm I had just found with Ruthie slipping through my grip like sand. The reality of the situation crashes down on me.
The momentary peace we’d carved out was never meant to last. It was only the windswept calm before the storm, clearing the path for utter destruction. The war, the violence, the constant fight for survival… it all comes rushing back in a tidal wave.
I don’t have time to process everything. Rafail’s tone tells me that whatever is unfolding right now, it’s urgent. It’s already in motion, and I’m needed.
I have to keep Ruthie and Luka safe.
No matter what it takes.
No matter what.
I don’t say anything immediately. My mind races, but I can already feel the shift in the room.
Ruthie and I are on the same wavelength. I glance at her, and her expression flickers, the calm demeanor she was holding onto faltering just a bit. But there’s no panic. No fear. Just that steady resolve that she’s always had when it’s time to act.
“Come to the mansion. We’re here now. Together, we can assess if it’s time to assemble at the safe house.”
The urgency in his voice is unmistakable. It’s not just a call to action—it's a command. The weight of it presses down on me, suffocating the peaceful moment we had been stealing.
I hate running. I hate hiding. I want to come out with guns blazing and hose every motherfucker down who threatens the safety of Ruthie and Luka, but I know I have to act rationally.
So I’ll do what Rafail says, and if I have to take them to the fucking safe house, I’ll do it.
Ruthie’s expression shifts subtly, though she tries to hold onto the calm. She exhales softly, her body language shifting like a wave rolling in, her spine straightening as if she’s already stepping into a different role. There’s no hesitation in her eyes, no questioning. She’s ready.
Without a word, she meets my gaze, her silent resolve speaking volumes. She doesn’t need to say anything. I see it in the way her shoulders square, in the quiet way she looks toward the door as though the reality of what’s coming is already settling in.
I don’t speak much either, the gravity of the situation pulling me into action. The leader. The protector. That’s who I need to be. In the space between breaths, I rise, moving with purpose but still mindful of her injury. Gently, I help Ruthie to her feet, careful not to jar her ankle. She winces slightly but doesn’t make a sound, as though any pain she feels is secondary to the urgency of the mission.