Page 93 of Merciless Queen

“The Bratva will believe what I tell them,” I finally push out a reply to his latest point.

He mirrors my next step toward the door. “From here on out, our organizations are linked.”

“That means nothing.”

It means everything. Even if the Bratva is no longer packed with the same old, traditional assholes that were around when Papa was in charge, there’s many who’ll want me to uphold this. A connection to such a vast and powerful organization would be useful. It’ll ease the minds of those wondering when an heir will be arriving.

With my next attempt at leaving, Zeno allows me to make it to the door and open it. Fresh afternoon sunlight peeks into the villa behind me, the sunlight blinding. It’s like a kick in the gut, reminding me of our run this morning. Despite my earlier thoughts about the beauty of Zeno’s property, I suddenly long for the privacy of my lands.

With one foot over the doorway, Zeno’s final statement floats toward me. It’s a threat, a promise, and also a vow that I’ll ignore.

“For better or worse, we’re connected, Vanessa Mancini. You can try to run from this, but I refuse to lose.”

Vanessa Mancini. Never. I’m a Volkov through and through.

Goodbye, Zeno.

I shut the door behind me.

Two hours later,his parting words continue to echo through my head.

Given his abhorrence toward my family, his determination to stay wed makes zero sense, so it’s likely yet another one of his games. But I’ve won this round, so hopefully he leaves me alone.

We pile onto my plane. The moment we’re settled into the couches at the end, Anastasia beside me, Lev and Dimitri across from us, I pull out the marriage certificate and toss it toward Lev with a simple demand.

“Make this go away. Anyway, anyhow, I don’t care.”

The jets whirl to life, which helps mask the conversations from the soldiers at the front of the plane. No need for them to overhear.

Anastasia leans across the aisle to peek at what I’ve given her brother, and Dimitri’s eyes look like they’re halfway out of his skull.

“Yebat'!Vanessa!” Lev exclaims.

“This couldn’t have been willing,” Dimitri states, watching me expectantly.

Anastasia jabs a long, manicured nail toward my signature. “You signed it.”

I sigh, leaning back into the padded leather couch. “They faked my signature. Which is why I need your help, Lev. Mancini’s claiming it’s legal.”

Lev glances up, an apology twisting his mouth, but his tone doesn’t imply confidence. “I’ll try, but others will have to know about this. Like our lawyers.”

Figured it wouldn’t be a technical issue he could delete as easily as camera footage.

Anastasia returns to the couch beside me, crossing her legs. “I have so many questions. One being, how that even came to be.”

“Long story.” And one I don’t want to recount right now, even though I doubt they’ll let me avoid the questions for much longer. For now, I look toward my cousin. “You were told about your father’s betrayal?”

His expression darkens, his chin dropping a fraction. “Yes, but leave Ivan to me. His death is mine, and I’ll be sure he gets what’s owed for the part he played in all this.”

“What happened after I left?” This I ask Anastasia.

She drums her fingers along her knee as she speaks. “Once you were taken, he began shouting orders and claiming he’d be taking over as Pakhan because you ‘were basically dead already,’ but everyone ignored him. The soldiers looked to us,” she nods toward her brother, “for direction and we got your uncle off the property. He returned of course, but once Dimitri arrived, he took off again, and we haven’t heard from him since. Assume he’s lying low.”

“He’s hiding,” Dimitri says with absolute conviction. “Looking for him wasn’t as important as getting you out, but once we’re home, I’ll make it my focus.”

I scan down the plane toward the soldiers. Some chat amongst each other, others have their head tipped back or are leaning on the small, round windows, napping. They all stuck by me, even when I was taken.

Papa always quoted loyalty. To be a good leader is to have loyal followers.

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