Page 50 of Merciless Queen

I remain still and silent, taken by her speech. She’s right. With her gone, her uncle or cousin will undoubtedly rise to take her position. And even with them gone, more will step forward. I’ve been aware of this for a while, simply because it’s how organizations function, and the Bratva is no different than Cosa Nostra in this. It’s yet another reason why the possible amendment in my path to vengeance makes more sense.

“And if I say no?”

“Then we all die,” she replies nonchalantly. “But it won’t change the fact that by next week, a new Pakhan will be crowned.”

“Dove sono i tuoi pensieri?”Where are your thoughts?

Elio’s question is followed by his feet shifting. I can hear his shoes dragging over the polished tile. To this day, I respect his opinions and insight, but when it comes to the Volkovs, I’m not sure I want the feedback. Though he’s been understanding through all this, he disliked me taking the place of the mercenary I was going to hire.

“I miei piani per lei sono cambiati.”My plans for her have changed.

During our exchange, Vanessa’s frustration visibly grows as she glances between Elio and me. Ignoring the gun aimed at her back, she positions a foot to stand. I gesture for everyone to stand down before they react. For now, I’m curious what she’ll do.

Once standing, she spreads her arms wide to her side, tilting her face until she’s looking straight at me, like an equal. I’m reminded by her in the club, and then her bedroom later that night, when she gave me every ounce of her attention—and had mine in return.

“Do your worst, Zeno, but I’ll warn you, men have tried to break me before and failed, and you will be no different.”

Her words lift another memory. A recent one, spoken only this morning:“My father was a great Pakhan, I’ll admit, but I’m not the man he was because he made some horrendous choices.”

The two statements could be unrelated but I can’t shake the feeling they’re not. That one of his “horrendous choices” was at the price of her: thathetried to break her.

“I’m sure I won’t be,” I say after a moment, filling the silence with a sound other than my beating heart and the air rushing through my ears. “Men will always try to break what they don’t understand.”

She blinks before shaking her head. “Is that what’s happening here?”

I make a humming noise before answering, “I know you pretty well, wouldn’t you say?”

No response.

Elio shifts behind me again, leaning forward to speak.“Sta prendendo tempo.”

“Maybe she is stalling,” I reply in English so she’s able to understand too, smirking at the way her cold gaze shifts from me to my old mentor. “But this is what the Volkovs do. They try to reclaim power when they feel it slipping away.”

There’s so much I can force her to do. I could demand she kneel and beg me for her life. Kneel like I did fourteen years ago when I had to bury my emotions and make it through Ursin’s mercy. Anotherfuck youto Ursin.

A comment in Russian comes from down the line and Vanessa and I both glance to see it’s the first guy in the row speaking. Lev Petrov, one of her Elite, and if all my research checked out, then he’s a whiz on the computers. He’s one of the reasons I had my own tech guy scrub the internet of any mention of the Cosa Nostra in recent years. Couldn’t have her learning about my Family before I was ready for her to.

Vanessa murmurs her reply, gaze locked on me, but I watch Lev for his reaction. He releases a frustrated huff that suggests Vanessa didn’t give him the response he wanted.

I reach a hand toward her neck, stroking a finger along the smooth column, reminded by all the other places she’s smooth. Hatred shines through her lovely eyes, but the lines around her mouth even out when I brush a thumb over her bottom lip, my mind regretfully returning to our first kiss inside her car.

“You have no power. Not anymore.” My snide comment is spoken too low to make much of an impact, but still, her breath hikes and lips part slightly, and the heat of her mouth coasts over my skin, painting it with the threats of fights to come.

For a second, everything pauses. Her breath. Her hatred. My plan.

“Guess not,” she agrees. “Doesn’t mean you’ve broken me, though.”

Her words shatter the spell and I drop my hand. “Very well, Miss Volkov.” Turning around, I command Elio, “Take her. Leave the rest.”

Then I head for the shattered front doors of the Volkov mansion, stepping through the entrance and rubbing a palm along the jagged wood. It’s splintered, the dark paint and smooth finish tarnished from the perfection it once was.

I’d like to say the doors remind me of the first time I stepped through them the other night when Vanessa was eager to continue what we began in her car, but they don’t. Instead, they’re a reminder of a memory only shared with me rather than lived. When another captive was dragged kicking and screaming through them, and then later, once rescued, was carried in the opposite direction, stumbling and fragmented from who they once were.

Pushing the past aside, I step onto the front stairs. More of my soldiers are scattered over the grassy yard, guns at the readyin case more Bratva soldiers were called here. The few that were positioned already are deceased lawn ornaments.

Before my next step, I wad up a ball of spit and release it into the doorway behind me.

Fanculo, Volkov.

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