Page 48 of Merciless Queen

“If you’re asking about the fellow Italian asshole you sent my way, he could be dead.”

Smack!

After comprehending what happened—that he fuckinghitme—he pulls his hand back to his side, flicking it as thoughhe’sthe one who’s sore, rather than my stinging cheek. I rotate feeling back into my jaw and check that everything is still in one piece and not broken. Down the row beside me, my Elite and soldiers toss out slurs and swears.

“Do it again and I’ll take you down with me.”

Completely ignoring my threat, he bends slightly until his face is lined up with mine. “Let’s try that again. Before I tear this mansion to the ground to find him myself.”

My heart jumpstarts at that, at the image of this ancient place, home to me and so many Volkovs before, engulfed in cruel terror as these intruders smash their way through, ruining history and wealth, turning it into a ruin.

I shrug, downplaying the effect his threat has on me. “Then he’ll go down with the rest of it.”

The Italian boss narrows his eyes before waving his hand at a few nearby men. “Search the mansion. Leave no inch unturned. Destroy whatever it takes to find him.”

They disappear instantly, one rushing down the hallway and another toward the staircase that’ll bring him to the same floor as Zeno. It won’t be long before they find him, and based on the sudden banging upstairs, making me flinch as I imagine the destruction the asshole is purposely doing during his search, they’re close.

All this for a hired gun? Something isn’t lining up…

A crash from upstairs tears at my insides. Papa did everything to protect these lands, and I need to do the samebeforeI no longer have a property to call my own. Which meansadmitting Zeno’s exact location. They’ll find him eventually and telling them now means keeping the rest of the upstairs intact.

Instead, I cling to a bit of my pride and ask, “All this for some merc?”

The Italian smiles. Grins in a knowing way that makes my stomach churn. It makes the skin on his forehead wrinkle and draws my attention to the crow’s feet around his eyes.

A whoop comes from upstairs and I suspect they’ve found him. With a resigned sigh that lowers my lids for a moment, I block all this out. Return to a time before Zeno came into my life and fucked everything up. It’s a coping mechanism that only lasts for a second because when the smooth chuckle comes from behind me, the gentle sound reminding me of another one he once made in my room, I open my eyes again.

The leader moves away from me and lowers his head in greeting.

That’s when my stomach drops.

Because there’s no logical reason a leader would bow to another unless?—

Sluggish steps come up behind me, scraping against my smooth tile like he’s too lazy to lift his feet. Or perhaps it’s the gunshot wound causing a limp. As the figure moves into my line of sight, I focus on the man who tricked me not once, not twice, but now three times.

Despite his subtle limp, Zeno’s grinning wide. His wrist is red from where the cuff was tightened around his skin, and I don’t want to picture what was done to the bed frame in order to free him.

Zeno bends and swipes a gun—mygun—from the grouping, almost like he knows exactly which one is mine. He swings it in an upwards motion before slapping the side to open the chamber, finding it full of ammo because I always ensure it is. He twirls it into a comfortable hold and keeps it loose by his sideas he comes up beside the presumed leader, who I’m getting the sense isnotAlessandro Vitale.

“Capo,” the man greets, “glad you’re safe.”

Capo.

Zeno grins down at me and the little I thought I knew about this damn organization comes crashing down.

Not a damn merc at all.

He’s the motherfuckingheadof the Cosa Nostra.

Vanessa’s expressionis one I will cherish long after her death.

Witnessing her crumble is a sight too magnificent to pass over. Like an experience I’ll not only glorify for the rest of my days, but it’ll heal the long-given wound inside me that I’ve been trying and failing to patch up since I was fourteen.

Since Ursin Volkov murdered my father fourteen years ago, and forced me to kneel in his blood. I promised him and myself that death and destruction would come to the Volkov line, starting with him.

Vanessa, while included in that list, is a stand-in for who owes me the most. FuckingFamigliarobbed me of my vengeance, and to this day, I still don’t know whether to thank Rossi or not. I’d heard the story of what occurred between him and the Volkovs, and the kill is justified; if I had a wife who was being threatened, I’d be sure the person doing the threatening stopped breathing. But it’s still frustrating to be cheated, especially after year after motherfucking year thatbastardohasevaded me. Every time I was close, he somehow was quicker at disappearing.

Five years of hunting him all to learn someone else got to him first.

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