Chapter 1
" THEY SHOWERED ME IN BLACK DIAMONDS, FORGETING THAT A DIAMOND IS NOTHING MORE THAN A PIECE OF COAL THAT HANDLED THE PRESSURE. THEY DIDN'T REALISE THAT BY CRUSHING ME, THEY WEREN'T MAKING ME A VICTIM. THEY WERE MAKING THE HARDEST SUBSTANCE ON EARTH.'
~MORDASSA(The Mother of Death)
[THE FUNERAL]
As the maids moved swiftly and getting me dressed, I just sat there like a statue as they fixed my hair and make up. I was just stone. I sat in disbelief that the monster I was married to for 10 years, a monster who tortured me and got off on it was really dead. My mind replayed all the pain he inflicted on me. It replayed it like a broken piano song.i stayed so deep in my thoughts that I didn't even notice they were done with dressing me up. A soft voice cut through my thoughts .
"Ma'am we are done" Maria said softly as if he would come barging through the door roaring I'd she spoke louder.
"thank you'' I said softly as I fixed myself up to look in the mirror.
i stood in the the black framed mirror, I looked at myself as the black heavy veil covered my face and I looked at the dress I was wearing. It looked like it was tailored on my body, hugged me in all the right places and the black diamonds dripped on my neck cold as ice. I stood in one place as the silence filled the room. I should feel something, hell, I had just lost my husband and I was burying him today. I stood there half dead, half alive. Then the first giggle escaped. Its a small, sharp sound that doesn't belong in a house of death.i covered my mouth but the laughter just bubbled up. It's was raw and jagged. It tore out of my chest until I doubled over, gasping for air. My shoulders shaking with a hysterical rhythmic joy.
"He is dead" I whispered to my own reflection. "I am finally free". The maids looked at me like I am crazy. As the laughter peaked, it suddenly snapped. The silence rushed to fill the room like cold air. It became heavy and suffocating. Maria rushed to my side "Ma'am, it's time". I fixed myself once more and went out to the hallway.
As I walked down the hallway I could hear a low murmur from the Mafia elite, the very men who watched me bloody and bruised and called it "Marriage".
I walked down the hallway to the ballroom with my head held high. I walked towards the black casket draped in black roses, the petals so dark they looked like velvet bruises, my heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor and there he was the man who snuffed the light out of me, in a box. Dressed in silk, his heavy violent hands crossed over his chest. I lowered myself, the scent of incense mixing with cloying sweetness of the dying roses.
I leaned in until the cold from his body seeped into my skin and whispered into his icy ear "Death becomes you my dear, see you in hell". I straightened my back and the priest began, I stood in front of the casket as the service went on, my heels began eating at my feet, towards the end. The priest stepped forward holding a vessel of holy. He looked at me waiting for a window to lead the procession to the cemetery. The guards shifted swiftly and quietly. They expected a slow walk to a stone vault. I stood by the casket as I placed my hand on the roses.
" The cars a waiting Mrs Volkov" the priest whispered, his voice thick withe the smell of old paper and incense. I looked at him, then the sea of guards dressed in black. A small smirk played around my lips.
" Turn off the engines" I said, my voice wasn't a mourning whisper, I was a cold command that cut through the silence. A ripple of confusion went through the room. The woman whom I calmly mother in law. Grabbed my arm to a pont where her black long nails clawed into my skin
"What are you doing? Do you want to keep him here?he has to be buried so his soul can rest" she hissed.
I just laughed "His soul is already in hell" i said discarding her hand like piece of refuse. I feel the warmth fo my blood where her nails had found my skin. A final gift from the woman who watched her son break me. I lifted the veil, letting the cold air of the room hit my face. and I turned to look at everyone.
"There will be no burial." I announced, my voice steady, carrying the weight of diamonds on my neck "I want him burned, reduced to nothing but ash.". I leaned over the casket, the scent of his expensive cologne and death filed my lungs one last time.
"fire purifies" I whispered, the words a jagged blade aimed at his mothers heart." that's what you told me when you burned me alive. So it's only fitting that you burn too".I straighten my back and turn towards the door I didn't look back at the crying woman or the stunned priest.
"Viktor" I called out, my voice echoing off the ceiling" Bring the casket and hand me the keys. I am driving.". The air the that room was stifling, thick with the cheap perfume, cologne and the scent of flowers. I couldn't breathe. Every second with him under the roof felt like a stain on my skin.
I walked out of the oak doors, the blinding sunlight hit me like a daze, it was blindingly bright. Viktor was already there, his massive frame silhouetted against the black hearse. He signaled 3 of the guards. They carried the mahogany weight of the casket between the, their muscles straining. It was a heavy box for a soul so hollow.
"Put it in" I commanded, my voice cutting through the quiet of the courtyard. Viktor paused, his hand hovering over the rear door of the car. He looked back at the church expecting a procession, the priest and the mother in law to follow. He was waiting for the "proper" way to do thing.
"Donna the family...they are still inside" he murmured, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"They can follow" I said stepping into his space until I could smell the leather of his holster." Put him in the damn car, Now!".
He bowed his head. A sharp nod to the men and the casket slid into the back with a dull, final thud.
I didn't wait for him to open the door, he never did because my husband forbade it.i walked to the drivers side, my black silk skirts sweeping the gravel.
" Keys now!" I said holding out a hand that didn't tremble. Viktor stared at my open palm, then the keys in his hand.
The men around him went still, sensing the shift in the wind. With a slow deliberate movement. He dropped the heavy keys into my hand. The metal was warm from his grip, but it felt like ice against my skin.
" I will follow in the SUV" he started to say but was already pulling the door shut. I didn't need a guard or witnesses. All I needed was the road and the fire.
I turn on the engine. It roars like it's telling me that now I rise from the ashes. I drive away from the house of death. On my way to the cremation site I looked at my reflection. My eyes framed by the black Vail I pushed back. I don't recognize the woman staring. Her cheekbones are too sharp,her gaze too dead. Behind her, the mahogany box sat motionless, draped in the black roses. I pressed my foot on the gas, the engine roaring in protest. I wanted to feel the speed. I wanted to see if I could outrun the ghost in the back.
"Do you like the view dear"? I asked the empty hair. My voice sounded jagged, like broken glass. "Its the last one you will ever have"
A giggle started in my throat, low and bubbling. It grew until I was laughing so hard my chest ached, the sound filling the small space until it drowned out the wind. I was the driver now. I was the one deciding the destination. But as the crematorium chimney appeared on the horizon, the laughter died as quickly as it began. The blankness rushed in, cold and heavy as stone. I felt a sudden, sickening drop in my stomach. The pain that had been my only constant was about to be turned to smoke, and for a second I was terrified of the void that would leave behind.
The engine died with a mechanical shudder. Leaving me in a silence so thick I could feel it pressing against my ear drums. Outside the windshield, the crematorium stood like a gray tomb against the pale sky, its tall chimney waiting to breathe out the last and final reminder of my pain. I just sat in the drivers seat of the hearse, I couldn't move. Time didn't slow down it curdled. The radio was on, a low bluesy hum that filled the cabin " Arsonists lullaby" began to play. The gravelly depth of the voice felt like it was vibrating in the marrow of my bones
"All you have is your fire..."
this song was a mirror, it didn't judge the flames, it just acknowledged they were there. I felt strange, terrifying peace. For the first time in 10 years I wasn't waiting for a blow. I wasn't embracing a scream. I was just...empty.
A sharp tap tap shattered the glass bubble of the moment. I didn't flinch. I slowly turned my head. Viktor was standing there, his eyes darting to the back of the hearse. I rolled the window down. The smell of cold air and diesel rushed in killing the scent of the roses.
"Khozyaika (Woman of the house) the men are ready. We should...we should let him go now. The fire is prepared.".
I Looked at him." the fire is not for him Viktor" I whispered, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone miles away. "It's for me". I reached over, turned the volume knob until the music drowned out the world, then I opened the door.
The back of the hearse opened, Viktor signaled to Dimitri and two others. They moved with a silent, practiced efficiency, sliding the casket out. It looked smaller here, stripped of the shadows and the priests lies.
The music kept playing "Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. I didn't lead them, I stayed three paces behind, the veil fluttering like a tattered wing. I watched the way the men's shoulders bunched under the weight of the casket. They were carrying the beast but I was pulling the strings.
As we entered the crematorium, the air changed. It was hot, not the warm comfort of a home. It was a dry, sterile heat that tasted like metal. The industrial oven stood waiting, a wall of cold steel that was about t become a sun. The men slid the casket onto the rollers. The music from the car was faint now, a ghostly echo from the parking lot but the rhythm was inside me. My heart beat in time with the drums.
I walked over the the control panel as my heels clicked as if it was a countdown. I pushed the button. The roar of the burners igniting drowned out everything. A smirk appeared on my face. It was pure, unadulterated hunger. I walked closer until the heat against my face began to sting, melting the blankness out of my soul. Through the small reinforced glass of retorts, I saw the first orange lick of flame catch the roses. I stood there, a doctor who failed to save herself, watching the ultimate surgery. There was no blood, no screams. Just pure fire.
"All you have is your fire..." the lyrics echoed in my head. I watched until the mahogany turned to black char, and then white heat. "He's gone Khozyaika" Viktor murmured behind me
"No" I said finally turning away as the song reached it's final, low chord."He's just been made useful. He's warmth for a cold house".
I felt Viktor's gaze before I saw it. I expected him to flinch. I expected judgement. A look of horror at the widow who had just joked about her husband's ashes. Instead, when I turned, I found him watching me with a look that cracked my ribs. It wasn't fear. It was raw, heavy heart ache. In the harsh clinical light of the crematorium. He saw the way my hands were trembling as I gripped my black silk skirt. He knew. He had stood outside the doors while "the beast" roared. He cleaned up the blood I couldn't wash away.
"Khozyaika" he whispered. There was no iron in his voice this time. Only a quiet, devastating understanding. The adrenaline that carried me from the church snapped. My bones quickly turned to lead and the world to gray static.
"Viktor, take me home" I whispered. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his massive hand steadying my elbow with a gentleness that felt foreign. He didn't treat me like a queen, just a patient. He led me to the car, shielding me from the wind as if I were made of the very glass i'd been studying. As he opened the door and helped me into the passengers seat, I realized the war hadn't ended with fire. It was just the beginning.
The cabin of the SUV felt like a confessional outside, the world was a blurred smudge of gray trees and industrial skeletons, but inside the air was thick. The Arsonist lullaby played as the car moved forward. I wondered what he was thinking, did he miss the man he had protected for three decades? Or was he like me, finally breathing in air that didn't taste like fear? Everytime the bass of the song thrummed, it felt like a pulse in a wound. I looked at my hands, the hands of a doctor who had only known how to cauterize her pain. I was exhausted, the kind of tired that gets into your marrow and stays there.
We passed the gates of the estate, the iron bars swinging open like the teeth of a trap. I saw the lights of the mansion glowing in the distance. The pace where the Pomiki was waiting. The house was full of sharks dressed in silk, all of them waiting to see if the widow would sink or swim. Viktor slowed the car as we approached the main entrance, but he didn't put it in park immediately. He let the final notes of the song fade into the hiss of the tires on the wet gravel. For a heartbeat, the silence was absolute. I didn't move to get out, I stayed in the shadows of the passenger seat. Staring at the grand front doors. I could see the vultures circling my throne, the hell I have come to call home. To walk in a path that was created by my blood, screams and redefined by fire. Viktor finally shifted into park. He didn't say a word, but reached over and turned og the music, the click of the dial sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. He was waiting for the queen to put her mask back on before the world saw her face. I got out of the car and made
