Life in Louisiana as I knew it was over.
My life used to be a perfect blend of love, shared with my husband Jackson and our three amazing children. We were a family built on fun, peace, and adventure. Weekends were for camping to bond more, summers were for vacations to visit places we haven't been, and Christmases were always warm and cozy.
I thought my life would continue to be like this but it was cut short when Maxim Volkov and his men showed up at our doorstep accusing my husband of stealing a hefty sum of money. A downside of being an accountant to the Mafia mob.
Right before my eyes, after they confined me to a chair with my hands and legs cuffed to it, I watched as my two boys and beautiful daughter were brutally tortured to motivate Jackson to return the money back. I looked into Jackson's eyes and all I saw was an innocent man who didn't take the money. We both begged for the torture to stop and our lives be spared but our plea fell on deaf ears.
I watched as Maxim put a bullet through my daughter's head while she cried for me. Maxim then grabbed my chin with his large calloused hand so I'd look him in the eyes and he said, ”I want my money or else, I will keep sending parts of your husband and sons to you. You have seven days. Seven days! Becca.”
With that, they removed my cuffs and left with Jackson and my sons. I watched as Jackson and my boys were manhandled and taken away from me.
I thought of calling the police, but they were all on Maxim’s payroll. I was numb, in a catatonic state until a group of men in overalls barged into the house. I watched as they cleaned up like nothing ever happened in my home. Then they took my daughter's body and left.
Replaying every detail of what just happened, my vision became blurry. I felt dizzy and my head began to twitch uncontrollably. Wrong! This is wrong. I smacked my forehead repeatedly to get some order into my brain.
"Bol'–eto sila". (’Pain is strength’) I murmured to myself in Russian. Repeating the mantra, "Bol'–eto sila, Bol'–eto sila, Bol'–eto sila," became a desperate chant until the rich taste of iron filled my mouth. Suddenly, the spasms and self-inflicted blows came to an abrupt halt.
I stood up from where I sat on the floor and gazed at my reflection in the mirror on the wall across from the living room. In that reflection, I saw Maria Morozov, not Becca Lockwood.
Maria Morozov, a name that made men quiver with fear across Russia and America. Shrouded in mystery, her identity remained elusive, and it was rumored that those who’d seen Maria's true identity didn't live to recount the tale.
Twelve years ago, I was Maria Morozov. The first daughter of Dimitri Morozov whose family line had been the head of the Bratva for almost fifty years now. My father raised me to take over from him. He raised me to be a queen, a stilt killer, and above all, a brutal leader. Everything changed when I met Jackson Lockwood, an accountant who made my icy heart beat again.
Crazy in love with him, I ripped my father's heart in two, renounced my family's name and eloped with Jackson to start a new life. Now my perfect life was taken away from me by the very same world I'd renounced. It was time to let Maria Morozov, the stilt killer, back!
I was a psychopathic killer. Now, I'm back, searching for those who killed my daughter, took my husband and sons.
Jackson doesn't know about my past and I'm willing to risk resurrecting my past to my present. Volkov took what is mine and I hate when people touch what is mine. At this point, I see no colors and I don't care what I have to do.
Volkov must meet Maria Morozov.
To Be Continued….
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