Page 99 of Merciless Queen

I level him a stare after gathering all the wood into the corner of my room, giving it a home until I can get a cleaning crew to properly dispose of it. “That would be courtesy of Vanessa.” With my toe, I kick the stake resting closest to me. “She decided to make her own weapon and sacrificed my furniture to do it.”

He chuckles. “Inventive. You know, she’ll do anything to break the union.”

“She can serve all the divorce papers she wants. I won’t sign them.”

His head ticks to the side. “And when she feigns your signature the way we did hers?”

For that, I have no answer.

He crosses his arms over his chest and kicks a foot to the side, propping it on the doorframe. “With her gone, what’s the point?”

Again, I have no answer.

After a moment passes, he laughs again and shakes his head. “Alright, I get it. That’s not why you asked me here, so what’s up?”

“I have another task, but I want it to stay under wraps. If you need help, ask Elio for only those he trusts the most. I don’t want to risk word leaving the organization.”

His brows lower and he nudges off the wall. “Got it. What do you need?”

“I want everything on a man named Boris Agapov.”

July 14, 1994

I never thought I’d write in a journal, but it’s what Mama recommended. A place where I can conceal all my thoughts. Especially now, at a time when I’ll soon have a wife.

Her name is Diana Lukin. She’s the daughter of a business partner. At first, I didn’t understand why Papa would arrange a marriage with a person he’s already aligned with, and planned to argue the fact, but then I met her.

She’s lovely and perfect. Behaves well, which is something Papa said I should care about. A part of me does, since the Bratva needs someone who’ll respect our ways and raise my future heir to act how a leader should,but another side of me doesn’t care. I want someone imperfect who I can mold for my own desires. Someone who, like me, has to work for perfection. Someone who isn’t under her papa’s command.

Oh, well.

She has the darkest of black hair and an angelic face. I couldn’t stop looking at her all night. Maybe the upcoming marriage won’t be terrible.

December 24, 1994

Christmas used to be my favourite time of year.

Not anymore.

Mama passed away this morning. Papa claims she’s been sick for years and has been hiding it from Ivan and me, but I don’t believe that. The dark marks on her neck indicated otherwise, but whatever happened between them, Ivan and I have made a pact to ignore it for our own safety. She’s his, therefore any punishment was his to deliver. It’s how this organization works. It’s how it’ll go between Diana and me, too.

Still…she’s Mama. I don’t know what to think. What to feel.

December 25, 1994

I almost burned this journal today. It was a gift fromher, so what’s the point in continuing to write in it? To jot down my thoughts, my feelings…it’s stupid.

I opened this book to record all my memories of her so I never forget the good ones from childhood. When she baked with Ivan and me, and we went on long walks around the property, and every single one of her hugs.

But now I won’t. If Papa finds this, he’d beat me. Maybe that’s why he killed Mama. She’s soft and pliable and her behaviours got away from her. He had no choice but to keep her in line, and when she still didn’t obey, he ended her life.

At least, that’s my theory.

He’s playing the distraught widow, but I see the gleam behind his eyes. It’s the same one he reflects onto me.

Maybe I should stop resisting. Maybe it’ll make my life easier. My own marriage simpler.

Maybe I should turn it all off.

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