Page 61 of Runaway Queen

Artur slapped a hand to my shoulder, grinning at me. “Welcome to thevory v zakone, Nikolai Viktorovich.”

The third man, the quiet one, uncovered a long black box that had been sitting on the bench beside him, and opened it, while another picked up a bottle of vodka from the floor.

“Kneel, Nikolai,” Artur urged.

I stood, forcing myself to walk to the middle of the steamy room and kneel. The three men who had passed judgment on me stood over me. One gripped the vodka, the other a crude, rudimentary ink gun.

“Do you plan to stay in New York?”

“No. I will leave to find my own place.”

The men were quiet, considering my words.

“Vasily will do the honors of your tattoos. It’s his specialty,” the leader said. “I’m Sasha, this is Dima.”

I lowered my head as Dima raised the vodka bottle over the back of my neck, splashing the liquid on my skin, and then moved to my hands. Sterilizing the flesh for the needle.

“I’m honored,” I said grimly as Vasily brought the tattoo gun to my skin, the buzz filling my ear.

The familiar scratch of the needle filled my head as the other men relaxed their formal air and passed the bottle of vodka around. Artur sounded positively giddy. The old fuck had started to think of me as the son he’d never had in prison, and he seemed satisfied that he’d done his best for me. Beingvory v zakonewas a huge honor. It should provide me, and the entire Chernov bratva, with a heightened sense of security. Kirill would be pleased to have avorfor a brother. Personally? It meant the power to take over Edward Sloane’s business with ease, and whatever else that involved Russians in the area. It was what I needed to do to protect Sofia and Leo.

The tattoo gun droned, and vodka swam in my blood. The sauna air was making me dizzy, but I gritted my teeth and kept my position. I lost track of time as they inked their exclusive marks onto my skin.

“Your nickname in prison was thepalach. It shall be yourvorname as well. Welcome to the brotherhood, Nikolai Viktorovich Chernov:palach.”

* * *

The Tower wasthe same as I remembered it from the outside. The inside was a different story. A towering monolith in Manhattan, one of the hottest property zip codes in the city. Kirill met me at his front door, once I’d been through several rounds of security.

“Nice to see you’ve beefed up the security here. Before, just anyone could wander through,” I quipped. Of course, I was one of the worst offenders to abusing the former security at The Tower, as I’d killed many guards when I kidnapped Mallory seven years ago.

Kirill’s impassive face cracked a smile at that.

He pulled me close into a brotherly hug. It was an unprecedented move from him.

“What’s this? A show of affection? Don’t tell me having kids has made you soft.”

“You’ll see one day,” Kirill said, pulling back.

My eyes jerked to his, but he showed no sign that he was implying anything about Leo.

Inside, I noticed the changes to the penthouse. For starters, it was a lot bigger. Now, Kirill and Molly had taken up residence on the top two floors of the building, and a massive staircase connected them. When Kirill had lived here alone, it had been a soulless, sterile place. Now, I saw evidence of Molly everywhere, from the warm-colored curtains, to the soft chairs and art on the walls. Of course, there were bookcases in just about every room, and toys. Fucking toys everywhere.

“Kids! Come and meet your uncle Nikolai,” Molly shouted through the cavernous house. She hugged me under Kirill’s warning stare.

“Uncle? Aren’t you teaching them Russian?”

“Kirill is.” She grinned.

I looked at my brother and chuckled. “So no one is. I seedyadyahas his work cut out for him.” While we were half brothers, with the happily deceased, powerfulpakhanViktor Chernov as our father, Kirill had never grown up in Russia.

I turned to see two small humans entering the room. I was curious about Kirill and Molly’s life, and my niece and nephew. My brother and I had made peace. Funnily enough, we got on better than ever with one of us incarcerated. Most of all, we had broken Viktor’s legacy, and every day we didn’t try to kill each other, we defied him.

“Are you our uncle?” the bigger one said. The girl, Kira.

I smiled at her. I knew what I looked like these days, with my wild eyes, shaved head, and even more tattoos than ever. I was also hardened in a way I hadn’t been before prison. Seven years had only made me more unstoppable, and the aura of danger that surrounded me couldn’t be mistaken.

Despite that, Kira approached and stuck out a little hand. Her tiny nails had glittery pink polish on them. I swore I’d never seen anything as small and perfectly formed.

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