35

KIRILL The concept of home has been foreign to me since…forever. It’s not a place where I feel safe or even liked. It’s a mere battlefield, where only the stronger comes out alive. My father didn’t shower my siblings and me with affection. He downright pit us against each other so we’d become invincible. My mother had only one purpose—get her favorite child to lead the family, no matter how many strings she had to pull. That sense of internal wars and calculations has been a part of me since I was a child, and it’s only continued to grow over the years. When I was old enough to put an end to it, I took the chance and flew to the other side of the ocean. Though I always knew I would come back, because my ambition can’t be contained in the military, I didn’t know it’d be this soon. Here I am. At the doorstep of our highly secured mansion that’s located on the outskirts of New York. It’s huge, old, and has the spirit of a dozen devils rolled into one building. The brick façade looks dull,