Page 59 of Monstrous Urges

Except, there are other stories: rumors that I was behind their deaths. I was not, but I’ll admit to having let the rumor run without opposition.

“Was he really,” I murmur tightly.

Her lips curl. “Indeed.”

“We’re both intelligent and busy people, Yelizaveta,” I growl. “So perhaps we should cut to the chase You’re angry because of the stories of my involvement in his and his wife’s deaths.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I’ve heard the rumors. But I also don’t believe them.” She shakes her head. No, Drazen, it isn’t rumor that has me resolved never to allow you even to glance at the Iron Table.” Her purplish gaze glints at me. “Nor is it, as you might be thinking, the fact that you’re not pure Russian.”

Just some casual ethnocentrism there. No big deal.

“As I said, Yelizaveta,” I mutter. “We’re both busy, intelligent people. So why don’t we?—”

“I was quite fond of the girl, you know.”

I go still.

She means Annika.

“I understand you believe she played a part in the treachery that took your family?—”

“She literally let them into my home,” I snarl.

Yelizaveta just smiles coldly. “All the same,” she says in a brittle voice. “I cared deeply for her. And you took her from this world, and from me.”

My anger flares. “She was attempting to flee across the only bridge off my island, and one of my men blew that bridge while she was crossing. I didn’t take?—”

“Your men, your island, your orders,” Yelizaveta growls. “Save your breath, because nothing will change my mind.” She levels a withering look at me. “That, Drazen, is why you will never sit at the Iron Table. Not ever. I thought it was time you heard that in person.”

She nods at her guards. They form a circle around her as she turns to walk back to her plane.

For a second, I almost let it go. Revenge is right there, still sedated on my plane, ready for me to destroy at my leisure.

But I realize I’ve been presented with a choice I never thought I’d have.

Vengeance on the tool that ultimately destroyed my world? Or vengeance on the hand that wielded that tool?

Annika versus Vadik. Vadik versus Annika.

The wheels in my head are still turning as Yelizaveta walks away.

And then my choice is made.

“What if she were still alive?”

Yelizaveta pauses, holding up a hand to stop her men. She glances back at me with a dry smirk.

“I’ve no interest in sick what-ifs. Goodbye, Drazen.”

She turns and starts to walk away again.

“I asked you a question.”

This time, there’s a fiery indignance when she stops. Yelizaveta turns fully to face me, her eyes blazing.

“Don’t play disgusting games with me, Drazen,” she hisses. “They don’t amuse me.”

“Just answer the question, Yelizaveta,” I growl back. “If Annika Brancovich were still alive, and still my wife, would you continue to block my attempts to join the Table.”

---