Page 51 of Merciless Queen

When Zeno Mancini,themotherfucking Capo of the Cosa Nostra,strides away, his soldiers immediately snap into action and gesture my own to their feet alongside Anastasia and Lev.

It takes a lot of strength to taper my fighting urge when the one previously holding a gun to my head wraps his huge hand around my arm and shoves me toward the entrance. If I fight, I’ll lose, I know that. I’d have to get to a weapon first and given how we’re outnumbered, it’d be useless. If Zeno’s keeping me alive, it means he has another plan.

My feet stumble to right myself but I throw a look over my shoulder, ignoring the soldier’s annoyed snarl to toss a final goodbye glance toward my Elite. My friends. My family. It’s the guns held up against their own backs that ensure their expressions are one of regret and sadness rather than a determination to fight back. If I know them, they’ve already had the same thought I had a moment ago: that to fight would end in our deaths.

Anastasia mouths her final promise toward me, and it’s decades of friendship that help me make the words out.We’ll save you.

“Contact Dimitri,” I command. “Tell him what’s happened.”

And then come for me.There’s a contingency plan already in place, began two years ago because Lev was smart enough to think ahead should something like this happen.

“Wait!” a familiar voice shouts as I’m being shoved out the door.Speak of the fucking devil, and the devil shall appear.My blood cools, my feet jamming into the marble floor, forcing the guard behind me to stop as well.

On the front step, Zeno turns to face the interrupter with a bored expression. A figure comes into view, ignoring me when he shoves out the door to get closer to Zeno. His face is unmarred of bruises, cuts, or worse because the coward obviously took off and didn’t fight after running from my office. I thought he could be among the dead but it’s worse. Not dead, but a traitor.

Papa was wrong about bad things coming in three. They come in four. And number fucking four is Uncle Ivan’s next words.

“Mancini, you made me a deal that you’d be taking care of this.”

Based on the scathing glare he tosses my way, I’m thethishe speaks of.

I throw myself into action right away, yanking against the man holding me, spitting out a mixture of Russian curses. If Ivan’s saying what I think he means…

“You fucking traitor!” I yank against my human holds, wishing Zeno would give the order for him to let me go. Not to escape but to murder a very specific person. “You will die for this! Slowly and painfully, I fucking promise.”

Ivan barely spares me a glance, staring at Zeno with an expression that’s between desperation and hatred. Meanwhile, the look Zeno returns is as though Ivan’s a bug on the bottom of his shoe.

“Her coming with meistaking care ofthis. So unless you’d like to become the Volkov who takes her original place, back the fuck down.” He practically growls the last part in a tenor of pure authority.

Ivan huffs angrily, his hands forming fists by his hips like an outraged child. His frustration is enjoyable but does nothing for my own mood either. “That wasn’t the deal.”

Zeno strides by him and returns inside the house, forcing Ivan to follow to continue the conversation. “The deal was that I’d rid the Bratva of Vanessa in exchange for your assistance in invading the property. I am. We never detailed how I’d do it, and really, nothing changes for you.”

I manage to tear my eyes away from the betrayal being detailed out in front of me, and glance at Lev and Anastasia to gauge their reactions. Both seemed shocked, staring on with hatred. The five-second glimpse is all I allow myself before I try to lunge from the unyielding grasp on my arms again. The man grips me tightly but I lift my feet, hoping my body weight will break his hold—it doesn’t. I kick and jerk around, but it only exhausts me in the process.

“Ya tebya nakhuy ub’yu, Ivan!”I will fucking kill you, Ivan!

I’ll do more than that.

I’ll burn him alive. Chop off body parts that I’ll force him to eat. I’ll string his bruised and battered body over the mansion to hang, for the crows to feast on. And when he’s barely breathing, I’ll toss him in a shredder and dump his remains in the northern mountains.

I will bemerciless.

“Why?”

Both Ivan and Zeno glance my way, as though both are uncertain who I’m speaking to. At least Zeno has the decency to look apologetic, considering it’s not every day family betrays you. But it’s Ivan who addresses me. His eyes are duller than earlier, more nervous. Good. He better be worried because the second I get free, I’m coming for him.

“You’ve destroyed the Bratva,” he explains in an exasperated tone like this is something I should know already. “You removed worthy, trusted men who spent decades working under your father. You ended operations that the Bratva has been known for, forcing customers to look elsewhere for product.” Meaning the women and children the sick fuckers trafficked. “I respected your papa immensely, Vanessa. My brother did the job well and made right choices, but you…” He trails off with a hard head shake. “You were and are a disgrace to the Volkov name.”

“So you sold out your Pakhan. Your niece. Your brother’s daughter.” I throw every title I am to him, hoping one of them sticks and he comprehends the severity in what he’s done.

“You stopped being my niece the moment you became Pakhan, but you were nevermyPakhan.” He smiles sadly, like that’s supposed to make me feel something other than utter hatred.

“Was everything you told me in my office a complete lie?” Obviously, he knew Zeno’s soldiers were coming to rescue him, and Ivan’s visit was a distraction. Something I should have seen, considering it was his first visit in months.

He scans the Italian soldiers, Zeno being last in that lineup with a flicker of uncertainty. “No. The war between the Bratva and the Cosa Nostra is real.”

My limbs sag in the man’s grips as his words imbed into my heart. I search his eyes, seeking the man I’ve known my entire life. The one who stood by my father’s side through every event. The man who lived in this mansion. The one who patted me onmy head every day until I was seven, before he started to ignore me.

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