3.

CHAPTER THREE

MIKA'S POV

FOUR DAYS LATER

"Meet my daughter, Mika Vladimir."

My father's arm tightened around my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

I stiffened beside him, forcing a smile onto my face even though I wanted nothing more than to pull away.

"And Mika, meet Mr. Antonio."

The moment the man heard my name, his eyes lit up with interest.

"Your daughter? I never knew she was this mature!"

He took my hand before I could react and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"She's just as beautiful as your ex-wife, Phave."

My father let out an awkward laugh.

"Absolute nonsense. She's more beautiful than Phave could ever hope to be. My genes are strong."

I rolled my eyes.

Of course, he had to make it about himself.

My father tilted his head, his smile fading slightly as he looked at Antonio.

"Can we not talk about her? I'm trying to enjoy my evening."

He said it with a smirk, as though he were making a harmless joke, but I noticed the tension in his expression.

The mention of Phave always did something to him.

I had only been seven when I discovered that I had a mother. Before then, I hadn't even known that she existed, let alone that she had once been married to my father.

Apparently, he had divorced her a month after I was born because of her infidelity.

I remembered the one time I saw her.

She had looked at me with so much hatred that I hadn't understood what I'd done to deserve it. She cursed me, called me bad luck, and blamed me for my father's decision to leave her.

I was a child. A child who had simply wanted to know her mother.

But she had made it clear that I was the last person she wanted to see.

I never saw her again, and I couldn't bring myself to care about what had happened to her afterward.

If anything, I was grateful she had stayed away.

At least I didn't have to deal with another person who saw me as a burden.

"Of course, Mr. Vladimir." Antonio raised his glass.

My father clinked his drink against it, and both men took a sip.

I looked away, already tired of standing beside them.

The Mafia Alumni Banquet.

That was what the large screen near the entrance called this gathering. I had noticed it when we arrived, along with the expensive decorations, the neatly arranged tables, and the guests dressed in designer clothes.

Soft country music drifted from speakers around the room, creating an atmosphere that would have been peaceful if not for the number of dangerous men gathered inside.

My father had insisted that attending this banquet was important for networking.

I'd argued with him for nearly an hour before we left the mansion, but my opinion had meant nothing, as usual.

My father always got what he wanted.

And if I didn't cooperate, he made sure I regretted it.

I shifted my weight, my feet already aching inside the six-inch heels he'd insisted I wear.

I hated the dress, too. It was stiff and heavy, clinging to my body in a way that made it difficult to walk comfortably.

But apparently, looking presentable was more important than being comfortable.

At least I'd talked him into letting me wear a jacket over it.

"My son has been talking about settling down and starting a family," Antonio said, drawing my attention back to their conversation. "Perhaps we could arrange a partnership between our families."

I blinked.

Then I looked at my father.

No.

Absolutely not.

I knew that look on his face. He was listening with the kind of interest he usually reserved for business deals, and I didn't like where the conversation was heading.

Great. Now Dad wants to marry me off, too.

I wasn't even surprised.

Why would I be?

My father had spent most of my life making decisions for me. Why should marriage be any different?

I leaned toward him.

"I'm going to get myself a drink. Have fun chitchatting with him."

I forced the words through clenched teeth before turning away.

"Mika," my father called.

I ignored him.

Behind me, I heard him smack his tongue.

"Teenagers are a different breed of children," he muttered.

I kept walking.

I was eighteen, not eight. If he wanted to treat me like a child, he could at least have the decency to stop pretending he was doing it for my benefit.

I lifted the front of my gown to keep from tripping over it and made my way toward the bar.

The moment I reached the counter, I leaned forward.

"A glass of your strongest drink, please."

The waitress glanced at me, then nodded and poured a drink.

I picked it up and swallowed it before she could say another word.

The liquid burned my throat. I winced, setting the empty glass down.

Fuck everyone. My father. Antonio. The entire banquet. I was sick of all of them.

I scanned the room, searching for Elsa.

She had disappeared almost immediately after escorting me inside twenty minutes earlier. I hadn't seen her since, which was strange considering she was supposed to be keeping an eye on me.

Then again, perhaps she had finally decided that I wasn't worth the trouble.

I almost smiled at the thought.

I ordered another drink and turned to look across the room.

There she was.

Elsa stood at the opposite end of the banquet hall, her legs slightly apart and her hands folded in front of her. Her hair was pulled into that familiar slick bun, and her expression was as unreadable as ever.

She looked like someone who had never lost a fight in her life.

I wondered what kind of person she had been before becoming a bodyguard. What had she done to earn my father's trust so quickly? And why had someone like her agreed to spend her days following around a girl who couldn't stand her?

I caught myself staring.

Elsa turned her head.

Our eyes met.

I quickly looked away, irritated that she'd caught me.

The waitress placed another drink in front of me, and I took a small sip.

Sometimes, I wondered what my life would have been like if none of this had happened.

No Mafia family. No dangerous men. No one trying to kill me because of a name I hadn't even chosen.

Maybe I would have lived in a little apartment somewhere, gone to school, and worried about ordinary things.

Maybe I would have had a normal life.

I didn't need a mansion or expensive clothes. I didn't need men standing outside my bedroom door or someone following me every time I left the house.

I just wanted to be free.

I swallowed the rest of my drink before I could dwell on the thought any longer.

Then I ordered another one.

My feet were beginning to hurt so badly that I finally gave up standing and took a seat at the counter.

The last few days had been exhausting.

Yesterday, I'd tried to escape through my bedroom window and ended up straining my ankle in the process. I'd thought I could outsmart Elsa by climbing down the side of the house, but apparently, I hadn't considered how difficult it would be to land safely in six-inch heels.

I'd discovered why she had caught me so quickly three days ago, when I confronted her in the sitting room.

A tracker. She had slipped one into my jacket.

I was still furious about it.

Who did she think she was? A private investigator?

And the worst part was that she'd used it to find me at Stefan's apartment. I'd thought I was clever enough to sneak out without anyone noticing, but Elsa had known exactly where to look.

I still couldn't believe she'd tracked me like that.

I'd spent the entire morning arguing with her about it, demanding to know what else she'd been hiding and threatening to tell my father to fire her.

She hadn't even looked bothered.

Instead, she'd told me that if I stopped running away every chance I got, she wouldn't need to track me.

I had nearly thrown something at her.

Now, as I sat at the bar, I glanced toward the other end of the room, intending to give her another annoyed look.

But Elsa was gone.

I frowned.

Where had she disappeared to this time?

I looked around the banquet hall, searching for her familiar black suit, but the crowd had grown thicker, and I couldn't spot her anywhere.

The waitress placed my final drink on the counter.

I reached for it, took a sip, and pushed the glass away.

I was beginning to feel lightheaded. Perhaps I should stop drinking and find Elsa before my father noticed I was missing.

I placed my hands on the counter and tried to stand.

Then the first gunshot rang out.

I froze.

For one terrible second, I thought I'd imagined it.

Then another shot followed.

And another.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"

The scream came from somewhere behind me.

Panic erupted around the room. People shouted and scrambled for cover, knocking over chairs and tables as more gunshots filled the air.

I dropped to the floor.

A woman beside me screamed before collapsing, her body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

My breath caught in my throat.

She wasn't moving.

Oh, God.

Someone had just been killed right in front of me.

I scrambled behind the counter, my hands shaking so badly that I could barely keep myself upright. The bartender had already abandoned his station, leaving bottles and glasses scattered across the surface.

I pressed myself against the cabinets beneath the counter and tried to breathe.

What's happening?

Why was this happening again?

Hadn't someone already tried to kill me five days ago? Wasn't the extra security supposed to prevent something like this?

I reached for my phone.

My fingers searched the pockets of my dress before I remembered that I had left my purse with Elsa earlier.

I'd done it deliberately because I wanted to annoy her after our argument that morning.

Now, I regretted it.

I had no phone, no way to call for help, and no idea where the hell my bodyguard had gone.

A man screamed somewhere across the room.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to cry out.

Beside me, someone was speaking frantically on the phone, begging the person on the other end to send help.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I didn't want to die here.

I was only eighteen.

I'd barely had the chance to live.

"Let's go!"

My eyes flew open.

Elsa had appeared beside the counter, her gun raised and trained toward the entrance.

For the first time since meeting her, I was genuinely relieved to see her.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "Why did you take so long to come for me?"

"Was getting your father to safety."

Of course.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.

I stared at her, my relief quickly giving way to irritation.

My father had been her first priority.

I swallowed the bitter response that rose to my tongue. As much as I hated admitting it, I understood her assignment. My father was the target of countless enemies, and protecting him was probably just as important as protecting me.

Still, I couldn't help feeling like an afterthought.

Elsa glanced toward the entrance before looking back at me.

"There's an exit a short distance from here. At the count of three, you're going to run to it and take the elevator to safety."

I stared at her.

"Are you insane?"

Her grip tightened around my arm.

"Do you want to die here?"

I shook my head quickly.

"No!"

"Then do what I say and move!"

Her voice thundered through the chaos, leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Elsa released my arm and turned toward the entrance, keeping her gun raised.

I stood beside her, my entire body trembling. I couldn't do this.

I couldn't run through a room full of people shooting at one another. I couldn't leave her behind and pretend I wasn't terrified.

But I wanted to live. I had to live.

Elsa glanced at me.

"You're running in three."

I clenched my fists.

"Two."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"One."

She looked directly at me.

"GO!"

I ran.

I didn't think. I didn't look back. My feet carried me across the banquet hall as I dodged overturned chairs and scattered glass.

Gunshots rang out behind me.

I heard someone shout, but I couldn't tell whether they were calling for help or warning someone to get down.

All I knew was that I had to reach the exit.

The large door marked EXIT came into view, and I pushed myself to run faster.

My lungs burned. My ankle hurt. The hem of my gown tangled around my legs, but I refused to slow down.

I reached the door and stumbled into the corridor.

The elevator was just a few steps away.

I rushed toward it and pressed the button, nearly jabbing my finger through the panel in my desperation.

The doors slid open.

I stepped inside, then turned back.

Elsa was running toward me.

Her gun was now tucked into her waistband, and her eyes were fixed on the elevator.

For a moment, I forgot everything else.

She was coming.

I waited, my hand hovering over the button that would take me to the ground floor.

"Hurry!" I shouted.

Elsa was only a few steps away when a gunshot rang out.

I flinched violently, clapping my hands over my ears as I crouched inside the elevator.

A sharp cry followed. I lifted my head. Elsa had stopped running. For a second, she remained standing, her expression frozen in disbelief.

Then her knees buckled. She dropped to the floor. Blood spread across her clothes.

My heart stopped.

No.

No, no, no.

I stared at her, unable to move as a masked man stepped out from behind one of the enormous decorative vases lining the corridor.

He had been hiding there the entire time. Waiting for her.

Elsa tried to lift her head, but she was already losing too much blood. One hand pressed against her wound while the other reached toward the gun at her waist.

The masked man raised his weapon.

My breath caught.

"NO!"

I screamed so loudly that my throat hurt.

I stumbled out of the elevator, reaching toward Elsa as though I could somehow pull her away from him. But I was too far.

The man took another step toward her.

Every instinct told me to run back into the elevator and get away from the man with the gun. Elsa was the one who had spent days making my life miserable. She had tracked me, followed me, and treated me as though I couldn't make a single decision for myself.

She had even punched Stefan.

And now she was lying on the floor, bleeding, while the man who had shot her stood over her with a weapon.

Why should I risk my life for her?

She was my bodyguard. Protecting me was her job, wasn't it? She was the one who had insisted she could handle everything.

Yet, as I stared at her, I remembered the way she'd grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the gunfire. I remembered her standing between me and the danger, telling me to run.

She cou

ld have left me behind. She hadn't.

My legs trembled as I looked from Elsa to the masked man.

I wanted to help her. But I was terrified.

Shit! 

If I moved closer, he might shoot me next. If I stayed where I was, I might have to watch him kill her.

My throat tightened.

I didn't even like her.

So why couldn't I just leave?

I rushed forward, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Please!" My voice broke. 

"Don't touch her!”