Page 42 of Merciless Queen

The emotional abuse.

“Does it matter? I’m not the one answering questions.” Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms and ask, “What’s your name?”

“No threatening weapons, Volkov? I’m not very impressed with your hospitality.”

Resisting from rolling my eyes, I demand again, “Name.”

“Told you. Zeno.”

“Last name.” I keep my tone flat and cold, partly from frustration. “Answer wisely, because nothing will save your soul. You claim you’ve been watching me for some time, so you should know that much.”

He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, speaking to it rather than me when he answers. “There’s no good reason for me to disclose information.”

My brows lift with his cockiness. “Your life isn’t good enough?”

Zeno scoffs. “My life is over the second I tell you, so consider this my leverage.”

Interesting choice of words.“Why does the Cosa Nostra want me dead?”

“Your father pissed off the wrong people. You should know as well as anyone the influence a name can have on a person’s life. When I said you live in your father’s shadow, I didn’t necessarily mean it in a bad way. You’re stuck living with everyone else’s memory of him, which means taking on all his debts, his enemies, and his failures.” He rolls his neck until he’s looking myway again. “Don’t ask me what he did. Mercenary, remember? I only know so much.”

“So you really are useless to me then.” No counter to my point comes. After a moment of silence, I ask the other nagging questions; the ones Anastasia recommended to let die but after the day of waiting for him to wake up, I just can’t let go. “Why sleep with me? Once you got here, we were alone. Would have been easier to finish it then, no?”

Zeno’s bright gaze rakes me up and down, landing on my chest. A shiver nearly slithers through me, but a bite on my tongue manages to hold it in. “Yeah,” he agrees slowly, “but where’s the fun in that?”

With my arms still crossed, it’s easy to make fists and hide my irritation. Fucking user.

“Your failure brought war to the Cosa Nostra,” I tell him casually. “I’m sure your employers won’t be too appreciative of that.”

He shrugs. “That’s their problem. I got paid already.”

Money. If his freedom isn’t enough, then monetary benefits are the currency mercenaries dabble in. He’s a paid merc, sent to complete a job, which means they’ve already written him off, and are waiting for news outlets to catch wind of my death before celebrating. No one will be looking for him, therefore he’s up for sale to the highest bidder.

“If money’s what you’re after, state your price. What’ll it cost to get everything you know? Whatever Vitale offered you, I’ll triple it.”

He freezes. “How do you know that name?”

“You think I don’t do my homework? He’s the capo of the Cosa Nostra. I’m assuming he hired you, so give me a number.”

“There is no number.”

“That’s interesting,” I muse aloud but don’t explain. It’s interesting because if he’s only a hired assassin, why have any loyalty to the Cosa Nostra? What do they have over him?

I shove off the wall and pace by his bed without looking his way. I’ve done all I can for now. Let’s see what starvation, loneliness, and the increasing promise and potential for death does to his mental and physical state.

“Well, when you decide an amount, let me know. For now, consider where your loyaltiescanlie, if you play this correctly. Rest up, Zeno. We have more work to do.”

Keeping my spine straight, I head for the door, still without glancing his way although the weight of his gaze follows me out. Only the door shutting breaks the prickling effect he has on me.

And the shaky sensation that something isn’t right.

Vanessa Volkov continuesto surprise me.

When passing out in the forest, I fully expected to wake tied to a chair or table, tortured to reveal what I know. But she’s chosen a different route. A more psychological one, but if all my observations of her were correct, then it’s only a matter of time before she tires of this petty game and goes on the attack. She isn’t one to wait for long when she wants something.

Which meansIonly have so long.

With her gone, I examine the space, which seems to be a bedroom. It’s warm and comforting, dark colours and even a fireplace across the way. This place could easily be a chalet in England: cozy in the frosty winters. There’s a reason she put me in here to heal and all the money in my account will bet it’s not because of the doctor’s advice. Vanessa isn’t someone to put aside her rage to follow medical advice. So what moves is she trying to make now by being hospitable? Keeping me comfortable and then offering money to switch sides.

---