Page 11 of Merciless Queen

The door slams shut.

He bores down on me, unperturbed to see a fifteen-year-old girl with her wrists and ankles tied to the bed frame.

After all…he paid for this experience.

I blink, yanking myself away from the nightmare that haunts me all the fucking time. The day I realized what a monster Papa truly was, and how his own gains ruled over everything else, including me.

“Wound was never closed. Maybe this will be the balm.”

His hand comes up to my shoulder. “I’ll get Lev on it. We’ll find him.”

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a few more minutes. Dimitri, wherever in his head he’s gone off to, while I reflect on my entire life with Papa. When he was around, anyway. Seems like once I graduated secondary education at eighteen and came home from boarding school, he was gone so often, sometimes weeks at a time. Not that I ever minded. In fact, I relished the times he went. Before then, I spent so much time away at school, I couldn’t say for certain if he remained around Moscow the entire time, but when we were both home together, our time wasn’t exactly picture-perfect.

Once, when I was seven and being taught to ride a bike by my childhood nanny, I tumbled off it in my rush to get to Papa’s side when his driver brought him up the driveway, and scraped my knee on the surrounding rocks. He immediately exited the car and dropped to a crouch and wiped the blood with one of his silk handkerchiefs before helping me up and recommending no more practicing for the day. I knew he cared a lot about me then.

When I was ten and Papa’s business partner arrived to our house with his daughter, no younger than me, in tow, Papa had said,“Go play with her. Be friends.”I tried, but despised how bossy she was. When I told Papa that later in the evening, he brushed me aside and demanded I get to know her better because it was “best.” For him—I now see.

When I was twelve and helping him host a party, I would have preferred instead to hide away in my bedroom and watch movies with Anastasia, he dragged me from group to group, parading me around. I didn’t understand then. Not until I was older.

Until I was fifteen and more understanding what years and years of being shown off was for.

I stopped being a child to him when puberty hit. After that, I was a convenience. A bank balance to increase. A trade. A business opportunity.

Never again. Irefuseto be used like that again. To be played by any man.

“Thank you, Dimitri, for all you’re doing now, and all you did then.”

“Don’t thank me until you’re officially Pakhan.”

“The meeting is fast approachingand she’s gaining more favour with her soldiers.”

“Not all of them. Call him. Same merc we used for the last job.” Pause. “Wait, I have a better idea.”

“Signore?”

“Trust me. This will be better for all involved.”

“Okay…you’ve never steered us wrong before.”

“And I don’t plan on doing so now.”

One Month Later

With a gatheringof five men behind me and Lev and Dimitri flanking me, I stride across the parking lot toward the broken-down building, eyeing the line of people. A dozen men and one woman. She stands, not behind them for protection, but shoulder-to-shoulder with the one to her right. An equal, which makes her a threat—if this doesn’t play out how I want it to anyway.

“Miss Volkov.” The centremost one paces toward me, meeting me halfway, declaring himself as the leader with that action. As though he assumed I didn’t already study up on who I was meeting with.

Maxim Orlov. Low-level gangster. Head of The Snakes, a gang local to Moscow, specializing in drug dealing.

He’s avoided me for days now, insisting he’ll only continue to do business with my father, and since he’s gone now, Maxim believes that makes him a free man. He’s partly correct anyway.

Papa didn’t control this group how he should have. He allowed the Bratva to be a middle-man in their dealings of a certain illicit drug they specialize in. Being a middle-man means less profits when I want the name of their distributor. Why let The Snakes hand out what the Bratva could be ourselves? No matter how much digging I’ve done, I can’t find the name of this drug’s creator. He’s deep underground, no doubt, far away from those like me.

Maxim shifts, his anxious gaze flicking to the line of guys I have behind me. None of which have officially sworn themselves over to me, but they agreed to this job tonight, so I think I’m partially winning them over.

“Let her go. Please.”

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