Page 42 of Embrace of the Russian Tiger

Before he could beg again, I fired.

The bullet slammed into his skull, and his body jerked once before going still. The blood pooled beneath him, staining the concrete as the finality of his death settled in the air. There was no satisfaction in it—just cold, calculated necessity.

The weight of everything hit me all at once, but I couldn’t focus on that now. I turned, my heart hammering in my chest, and saw Anna standing where she had scrambled to safety. Her eyes were wide, her breath uneven, her chest rising and falling with the aftermath of what had just happened.

She was alive. That was all that mattered.

I turned to Anna, who was standing frozen, her hands still trembling from the ordeal. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the mix of emotions swirling in them—relief, fear, anger.

"You're safe now," I said softly, taking a step toward her. "He’s gone. You can do what you want now."

Anna’s eyes narrowed, and before I could react, she slapped me hard across the face. The sharp sting of her hand left me stunned, my cheek burning from the impact.

"You bastard!" she yelled, her voice shaking with fury. "You put me in this situation! You did this to me! I wouldn’t have been in danger if it weren’t for you!"

The guilt hit me like a freight train, but I stood my ground, my expression unreadable. She was right. This was my fault. Ihad dragged her into this world, made her a target. And now, she had every right to hate me for it.

"I never wanted this for you," I said quietly, my voice rough. "But it’s done. You’re safe now."

"Safe?" she spat, her eyes blazing with anger. "You think I’m safe now? I’ve been kidnapped, threatened, held at gunpoint, all because of you! You threw me into this nightmare, and now you want to act like it’s over?"

I stared at her, my chest tightening as her words cut through me like a blade. She was furious, and she had every right to be. But I wasn’t going to let her walk away without knowing the truth.

"If you leave now," I said, my voice cold but steady. "You have enough in the assets you’ll inherit to live a decent live the way you want to, however that is.”

Her eyes narrowed, confusion flickering in them. "What are you talking about?"

"I have the will," I continued, my gaze locking onto hers. "Rossi’s will. The one everyone is after. It’s yours. You inherit everything."

Anna blinked, shock crossing her face as she processed my words. "What?"

"You’re his heir," I said. "The assets, the power—everything he left behind, it is yours, and I have the will to prove it. I have the document that no one has.”

CHAPTER 18

Istood frozen, my mind spinning in every direction as Maxim’s words hung in the air.

"I have the will."

His voice was cold, steady, as though he hadn’t just flipped my world upside down with a single sentence. The weight of it settled on me like a physical blow, making it hard to breathe. I stared at him, struggling to make sense of what he was saying, the reality of it crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

Rossi’s will. My inheritance. My life.

For so long, I’d been manipulated, lied to, and used as a pawn in other people’s games—Maxim’s game, Nikolai’s game—and now, it turned out the very thing everyone was fighting over... was mine. Legally, rightfully mine.

I didn’t have to fight for it. I didn’t have to run or hide anymore. The power, the assets, all of Russo’s empire could be mine. But at what cost?

My eyes darted back to Nikolai’s lifeless body, still crumpled on the cold concrete floor. The sight of his blood pooling beneath him made my stomach turn. The horror of what I’d justwitnessed clawed at my insides, but there was something else there too—something I hated myself for feeling.

Admiration.

Admiration for the way Maxim had handled it all, for the control he’d displayed as he took his revenge. Nikolai deserved it—he had been a monster, and what he did to Katya was unforgivable. But watching Maxim execute him so coldly, so methodically, made me see him in a new light. A dangerous, terrifying light.

And yet... I couldn’t look away.

I felt a tremor run through me, a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name. Maybe it was desire. Maybe it was hate. Maybe it was both.

Maxim turned toward me, his gun lowered, the barrel still smoking from the shot. His face was unreadable, his eyes dark and impassive as he looked at me, as if the man who had just taken a life moments ago had vanished into thin air, replaced by the calm, controlled version of him I had come to know.

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