Page 64 of Merciless Queen

He whistles, slapping the back of the chair as he straightens. “You think you’re honestly getting that woman to an altar?”

I scoff. “Don’t have to. We’ve tracked enough of her documentation that with the right payout, some judge will overlook the falsified signature on the marriage certificate. Never said she’d be agreeing to anything.”

“That’s it then? You’re in for a long life with her by your side.”

Maybe. With her on a very short leash, I’ll be controlling the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva, and we’ll be an unbeatable force to anyone who’d try. She could come to appreciate the protection to her people.Couldbeing a slim-to-unlikely percentage because Vanessa will fight this with her entire being.

I kind of want her to. Show me she’s the queen she claims to be, even as her authority over her dominion diminishes day-by-day. Though, after what she told me upstairs, a small streak of guilt has me feeling for her. What’s the difference between me and her father?

“Won’t be a real marriage anyhow,” I add with a shrug. “She’s a tool and nothing more. Ever play chess, Nero? The king isn’t associated with a point value because they’re too powerful to limit to a specific numeric price, but the queen is. She has a value, and hers is about to be all used up.”

Her comment comes back to me:“Women are a commodity, so even bearing his last name couldn’t save me.”

It still won’t.

The woman I’ve come to know might not deserve this, but the thing with vows, is they’re too significant. Men have lived and died by a few choice words, and I can’t die while a Volkov still walks the earth unchecked for what Ursin has done.

“It’s a mercy shown to the Merciless Queen,” I continue. “Consider it a lesson to her. I’ll control her, her precious Bratva, and the remainder of her family.” If she chooses to allow Ivan to live after this, that is.

He turns his head slightly, looking up toward the second floor. “Seems like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”

No.

Am I?

The two answers hover on the tip of my tongue, but thankfully Nero goes on and saves me from having to choke outa response. “Well…I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t go along with your crazy.”

“Very true.” I slide the bottle across the table and back into his waiting hand. With the conversation over, he can continue healing wounds cut into him from before our friendship. “I’m off to get Serafina. It’s soon time for Vanessa to know everything, but in the meantime, it’s probably best she stew alone for a bit.”

Nero watches me head toward the deck’s steps. “Need backup?”

“Room’s locked, but make sure she doesn’t find a way to burn the house down or anything. And in the meantime, I need a favour.”

Serafina.

I wish the name was familiar. That scouring old memories of everything Papa’s ever told me revealedsomethingabout the person who’s apparently enticed so much animosity and retribution from the Cosa Nostra. If only Ivan finished explaining our history before shoving the dagger in my back.

Fucking Ivan.

By now, he’s probably tried to lord his victory over the soldiers and reclaim them, but Lev and Anastasia won’t let him get that far. I’d like to have faith, the men won’t instantly follow him without proof of my death.

Ivan will get what’s coming to him and I can’t wait to hand him over to Dimitri. As much as I’d personally enjoy taking a sharp knife to his insides until they’re shredded and useless and he bleeds out, his death is long owed to Dimitri for whatever the dark past they’re both hiding is.

Thinking about him, how callously he looked at me on the mansion’s front steps, brings an intense pain to my sternum. Sure, Ivan’s an asshole. Sure, he’s despised my takeover andeverything I’ve done since. Sure, we never had a close bond…but he’s still family. One of the few I have left, and wanting me gone—gone-gone—dead—it’s another level I didn’t know he was capable of.

At some point, not sure when, my legs give out and I sink to the ground. Pain and anger mingle in my gut. Not only am I hurt over Ivan’s actions, but also Papa’s. Whatever he did to Zeno, I’m paying the unwilling price, and it pisses me off like nothing before. To think Zeno’s had years to plot his revenge when I had no more than a day’s warning. If only Papa told me about the Cosa Nostra, and why he wanted me to marry into theFamiglia.Maybe, just fuckingmaybe, I would’ve considered going along with his plan, if it bettered the Bratva for an actual worthy reason. Being a leader involves sacrifice, and perhaps that’s what I would have reminded myself when completing the wedding march toward Rossi.

But he didn’t. And now I’m sitting in a stranger’s home after days of fighting in a battle I didn’t realize was commanded.

Zeno’s another level of my anger. He lied to me in the club. Hell, everything about him was a lie. I might have skipped giving him my name, but everything else that happened was all me. Being used might not be new, but it doesn’t make the pain any less.

Lastly, the slow trickle of information I’m being handed. Zeno mentioned a woman named Serafina, which is the same name I read he and whoever he was texting on the plane talking about. A woman in Zeno’s life with a link to my father seems pretty unlikely. Agitation rolls through me until I can no longer sit still. If only Zeno offered up more answers, or Ivan got to the end of his story quicker, or…so manyifs run through my head.

What I do know is that sitting on the ground feeling sorry for myself won’t get me far. Without an accurate method of time keeping, I have no idea how many hours it’s been since Zeno’sattack, therefore no indication of where my Elite are in their plan. Perhaps Dimitri’s made it home by now. Perhaps they’ve begun developing a way to slip into Rome unnoticed.

Even so, waiting for them makes my skin itch, like I need to move. To protect myself. I’m sitting around weaponless, at Zeno’s mercy, which doesn’t bode well with me.

“If you don’t have a weapon, find one. Make one. Become one.”

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