Page 4 of Merciless Queen

Lev leans against the wall behind him and crosses his arms. The shadows of the room, cast by the numerous candles lined against the walls, suck him up. Like Dimitri, he’s a force to be reckoned with. Only, while Dimitri is walking death, Lev would have someone’s name, identification number, address, and personal schedule all before the computer’s even finished firing up. Computer hacking genius is too simple a title for him.

A scoff from one of the other Brigadiers across the room takes my attention away from Lev. “You are unmarried, girl. You lost your chance.”

The urge to meet Lev’s gaze again, or to turn and find Dimitri’s support, is so tempting, but all that’ll do is give the men more power in thinking I need a man’s “help” to run the Bratva. So I instead stare the Brigadier down, telling him with my expression how little his opinion truly matters.

And to the room, I say, “Papa once told meispol'zuyte svoy razum, telo i smekalku, chtoby dobit'sya uspekha. To use my mind, body, and my wits to get ahead. My father wanted me to run the Bratva. Getting married would provide you all with a man to be leader, while I produced the heir.”No thanks.“But either way, the Bratva’s future fell onmyshoulders. I am my father’s heir. His grandson was meant to be the eventual Pakhan. Leadership is to remain within our direct bloodline, and no one else’s. That is what he wanted. Not,” I pin my uncle with a desolate stare, “this.”

Ivan pushes to the front, glaring at Dimitri instead of me. “What is this? Get her out of here.”

Dimitri doesn’t even comment. Just watches me with a tip of his head.

“You know I’m correct,” I utter to my uncle. “Brother or not, he didn’t want you running the organization.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants.” Lev’s father’s deep voice speaks from down the room. “He’s no longer around, so hisrequests do not matter. We need strong leadership. Someone who’ll not only bring the Bratva into the future, but theFamigliato their knees. The Rossis must pay for what they’ve done. That is something you must agree with, no?” His tone ends on a high plea, as though believing I’ll step aside all so someone more worthy in their eyes can kill Erico Rossi. That the concept of avenging my father is enough for me to drop my argument.

It's not.

“They will. By my hand.”

Ivan laughs, as do a few others. Some in loud chortles and others as nervous chuckles. A few remain silent, glancing uncertainly at one another. Then Ivan moves to nudge me toward the door, despite my heels digging firmly into the uneven stone flooring.

“What you’re doing is adorable, but it’s not the best way. You’re a lovely woman, Vanessa, and I promise to fulfill your father’s wishes in finding a suitable husband to take care of you. Until then, we are still family and you may remain in your home.” He gestures to the ceiling, to indicate the entire mansion that I’ve grown up in. “Your shopping trips can continue. Spa days with your friends will be funded by the Bratva’s bank, same as always. Whatever you want, it’s yours. But not this little show.”

The assumption sickens me. Papa forced me to fill my days with shopping and beautifying myself, but they’re hobbies I don’t enjoy. They give me no purpose. They simply kept him quiet and looking the other way, so when Dimitri trained me in the evenings, he wasn’t the wiser.

I shoulder my uncle away and stride back to the head of the long table, resting my hands over top, right in the same spot I imagine Papa often laid his own.

“This is mine,” I tell them all with finality.

After a beat of silence, of wary glances from the men, Ivan concedes with, “You’re right,” in a low, condescending tone. “But I’m not claiming the Bratva for myself, so that’s where you’re wrong. This is Dimitri’s line. Given my age, I will remain in my current role, but it’s my son who’ll lead the Bratva.”

What?

I glance at Dimitri, searching for a sign of betrayal. Out of anyone here, he’s the last who’d pull something like this. To bring me here, build me up, and watch me fall apart with all the heads of the organization as witnesses. But he’s not meeting my gaze. He’s staring at his father, expression blank, eyes pinching in the corner.

I find Lev across the way. He too looks confused but subtly shakes his head, like he’s trying to tell me something I can’t quite comprehend.

“I accept.”

What?

Betrayal has me ready to puke. I knew this was a bad idea. Knew Dimitri’s urge to get me to this room would end in failure, even if this isn’t how I imagined it happening. A fresh wave of grief hits me, not for Papa, but for the relationship long strengthened between Dimitri and me. With this act, he’s killed us…even if I still can’t believe it. Don’twantto believe it. This isn’t Dimitri. He’s said time and time again he prefers being in the field and wouldn’t want to be the indoor leader Papa was. This doesn’t make sense…

Dimitri scans the table of men, nodding slowly as everyone begins clapping. Cheering for their new leader. For someone they trust and want to follow.

Not me. Never me. I was a fucking fool for believing I could do this.

Ivan tucks his arm around my back, his cruel whisper ticking the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “See? I’m sorry, Vanessa,but a woman will never be a part of the Bratva in the way you’re speaking of.”

Dimitri lifts his hand, silencing the entire group in an instant. They listen to him so easily, so naturally, and I hate my cousin for that alone. “I accept the position of Pakhan. Thank you. I’d like to mark my ascension with one rule enactment right now. Womencanand will run the Bratva without a man by their side. Therefore, as I accept your honour, I’m stepping aside, and naming Vanessa as my successor. She is your Pakhan.”

Silence.

Complete and utter silence from both me and the others.

Dimitri pushes his father out of the way to make room for himself when he drops to one knee in front of me. His right hand makes a fist and covers his heart, and his head lowers into a bow of submission. One I’ve seen the others give Papa so many times.

“My fealty is owned by you, Vanessa Volkov. As avor v zakone,” thief in law, “my gun is yours. My loyalty is yours.YA klanyayus' tebe.”

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