Nikita Von - James

Nikita did not cry. She added a name to her list.

She was practicing something else entirely. nikita von james

And in the end, Leonid Von James—fixer, killer, father—did the only truly brave thing he had ever done. He signed. Nikita did not cry

She was twelve when she first learned what her father did for a living. And in the end, Leonid Von James—fixer, killer,

Nikita didn’t flinch. “No. Mama was kind. I’m something else.”

Nikita Von James had always been the quiet one in the family, the kind of quiet that made people uncomfortable. Not because she was shy—she wasn’t—but because she listened. She listened to the rustle of secrets in the walls of their old Victorian house, to the whispers her mother pretended not to hear at night, to the tiny, frantic heartbeat of the mouse trapped under the floorboards.