4. Damian #2
Relief flashes across her face. “I have everything,” she says softly, shifting the bags on her shoulder. “Everything I need for now, anyway.”
I step forward, taking the duffel bag and swinging it over my shoulder, careful not to impede my movement or my ability to draw and shoot.
I look at her, trying to process what I’ve just taken on—the responsibility that I’ve shouldered.
It was one thing when it was just her. Now I'm responsible for a child—a boy who will need things I don't know how to provide, stability I'm not sure I can offer.
Just for now, I repeat in my head, and motion for her to follow me. “Let’s go.”
I see her glance around the shabby apartment one more time, and I can see that however bad of shape this place is in, it’s her home.
It’s the one place she felt safe, and I know all too well how it feels to have a place that was once a haven become somewhere that you have to flee.
She’s having to leave behind everything familiar, everything that used to be safe, and trust a stranger with her life and the life of her son.
I’m not insensible to how difficult that must be.
The trip downstairs is tense. I watch every corner, every shadow as we make our way down the stairwell.
I glance back periodically, seeing Sienna rubbing Adam’s back with one hand, keeping the boy calm as we head down to the parking lot.
He seems sleepy enough to not be bothered by what’s going on, which is a relief—the last thing I need to deal with right now is a frightened, crying child.
When we reach the parking lot, I breathe slightly easier. The Mercedes sits where I left it, untouched. But as Sienna approaches the vehicle with Adam in her arms, a new problem presents itself.
"I need his car seat," she says, stopping short of the passenger door.
"His what?"
She gives me a look that suggests I'm an idiot. "His car seat. He can't ride in the car without it. It's not safe, and it's illegal. "
Of course. Because children require special equipment, special considerations that I’ve never had to think about before. Another reminder of how unprepared I am for this situation.
"Where is it?" I ask, glancing around the parking lot. I told Konstantin within the hour. We need to get moving, not least of which because every moment we’re here, we’re in danger.
"In my car." She points to a beat-up Honda Civic parked a few spaces away. The thing is rusted to shit, with fading paint and a missing hubcap.
“Does that thing run?” I look at it dubiously, and she glares at me.
“Actually, right now it doesn’t. Busted battery. I had to take the bus to work tonight. But it doesn’t need to run, right?” she asks, her tone colored with exasperation. “You’re taking us back to the estate . I just need the car seat.”
For a terrifying moment, I think she’s going to ask me to hold Adam while she gets it out.
But instead, she fumbles with her keys, unlocking the car as she gently bounces the boy against her chest with one arm, and gets the door open to reveal a complex-looking contraption strapped into the seat.
I feel sure that she’s not going to be able to get it out while holding a toddler, and I step forward, still scanning the parking lot as I do.
"I'll get it," I say, but she's already leaning past me, working at some kind of release mechanism.
"It's tricky," she mutters, pressing buttons and pulling at straps. "You have to do it in the right order or it won't—there."
The car seat comes free with a soft click, and she straightens up, holding the bulky thing with one hand while balancing Adam and the backpack with the other. She's stronger than she looks, but I can see the strain in her posture.
I can also tell that she does this alone often. That she’s used to managing all this on her own. Something in my chest tightens at the thought. I want to find whoever abandoned this woman, and break his fingers one by one until he explains why Sienna is all on her own with a child.
The feeling alarms me. I’m a violent, brutal man, but not a protective one. I’ve never had anyone to protect. It makes me feel off-balance, unsettled, and I don’t like it.
"Give me that." I reach for the car seat.
"I can handle it?—"
"Give it to me."
There’s a momentary standoff as Sienna hesitates, then reluctantly hands the car seat over.
The thing weighs more than I expected, all padding and plastic and mechanical bits that I don't begin to understand.
How something as simple as transporting a child requires this much engineering is beyond me.
Back at the Mercedes, Sienna opens the rear door as I unlock it and starts examining the back seat with a critical eye.
"Okay, it should fit," she murmurs as she climbs into the car, still balancing Adam against her chest, and she motions for me to hand her the car seat.
What follows is ten minutes of the most frustrating experience I've had since learning to disassemble and reassemble a gun blindfolded.
"No, that strap goes under," Sienna says, her voice muffled as she leans down. "And you have to push down while you tighten it. It’s tricky…"
I try to follow her instructions, but the straps seem to have a mind of their own, twisting and catching on everything.
The car seat rocks when I try to secure it, clearly not properly installed.
I let out a grunt of frustration, aware that every second we spend dealing with this nonsensical contraption is one that I’m not paying as much attention as I should to the dangers around us.
"Here, let me—" Sienna tries to reach around me, and looks up. Suddenly, her face is very close to mine, and I can smell her shampoo as her hair falls forward, something light and floral that cuts through the lingering scent of leather and gunpowder that follows me everywhere.
"I've got it," I growl, but the strap I'm pulling on seems to be making things worse instead of better.
"You're doing it wrong." Her hand covers mine on the strap, her fingers warm against my skin. "Pull this one first, then push down on the base. "
I follow her guidance, and somehow the car seat finally clicks into place. She gives it a firm shake, testing the installation, and nods in satisfaction.
"Good. It's secure." She settles Adam into the seat with practiced efficiency just as he starts to squirm and let out a sound of protest, and she runs a gentle hand over his hair as she starts to buckle him in. In that moment, I can see that I’m completely forgotten, all of her attention on her child as she tries to soothe him.
"Comfortable, sweetheart?" she asks, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.
Adam slides down as far as he can in the car seat, looking around the car with sleepy apprehension. “Going on a trip, Mama?”
“We are, honey.” She digs something out of the backpack—a well-loved elephant that she tucks in next to his elbow. “We’re going to go stay somewhere new for a little while.”
He brightens a little at that. “Are there gonna be other kids to play with?”
“I don’t know about that,” she says softly. “But we’ll have a good time, I promise. You’ll have your toys and your books, and I’ll be there with you. Now just settle in, and it won’t be long before we get there.”
Adam looks at his mother pensively. “What about the scary man?” he asks plaintively, looking up to where I’ve settled myself in the driver’s seat. I see him in the rearview mirror, eyeing me, and I see the expression that crosses Sienna’s face, one of pinched worry.
Scary man. For some reason, hearing that in the childish voice from the backseat stings. I've been called worse things by people who had more reason to fear me than this child does. But something about hearing it from someone so young, so innocent, makes me feel like a monster.
Well, I am one, aren’t I ? I’ve spent my life building myself into something brutal and terrifying. It’s the reason why I’m able to protect this woman and her child. Because I’m scary .
"Damian will be there too," Sienna says carefully. "But he's not going to hurt us. He's going to keep us safe. "
Adam considers this for a moment, then nods with the easy acceptance of childhood. "Okay."
“I’m sitting back here with him,” Sienna says, buckling herself in as she leans over to shut the door, and I can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s daring me to tell her to do anything differently. It doesn’t matter to me where she sits, so I don’t bother.
The drive to the estate takes forty-five minutes through Miami's pre-dawn streets.
I take a circuitous route, doubling back and changing direction to make sure we're not being followed. In the rearview mirror, I can see Adam's head beginning to droop as the motion of the car lulls him back toward sleep. Sienna is sitting beside him, tense and upright, her eyes fixed out the window at the passing city. The sky is starting to turn that odd color just before dawn, when it hasn’t begun to grey yet, but there’s the promise that it will start growing lighter soon.
The neon of the city is still bright and flickering, but the sidewalks are quieter now, the only people out and about are the younger crowd that parties until dawn.
"What happens now?" Sienna asks quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the engine. The sound of her voice briefly startles me.
I glance back at her in the rearview mirror. “Now you stay alive. Both of you.”
"And after that?"
I don't have an answer for her. The truth is, I don't know what comes after.
I've never been in a situation like this before, never had to consider the long-term implications of protecting someone who isn't part of the Bratva. I was impetuous when I dragged her to the church, and I’m beginning to realize just what a complicated mess this is all turning out to be.
But I couldn’t have left her. The thought of her lying dead in her building’s parking lot, or bleeding out on the ratty carpet in her apartment, makes my chest tighten painfully.
She’s young and innocent, and whatever happened to put her in the situation where I found her tonight, she didn’t deserve it.
I acted on instinct. Which makes me wonder if Victor was right, all those years ago. He said that we were predators, not protectors… but my instinct was to protect this woman.
At least for now.
The gates in front of Konstantin’s estate swing open as we approach, the guards recognizing the car.
Ahead of us, the estate spreads out in all its glory—Spanish-style architecture, impeccable landscaping, and security that does their best to make themselves invisible most of the time, although I can see a few of the men moving about the property, shadows in their fatigues.
I glance back at Sienna in the rearview mirror and see her sitting there, wide-eyed, her lips parted as she takes in the place where she’s going to be living for the foreseeable future.
I park the car in front of the mansion and twist to face her, letting out a long exhale. “Welcome home.”