Page 7 of Merciless Queen

I smile gratefully at our friend before asking Dimitri, “Why didn’t you want it? You almost had the Bratva for yourself.”

He glances toward the door, his lip curling. “Being Pakhan isn’t my future. None of this was what I even initially wanted.”

His words seem final. A hint toward whatever happened in his past that he always refuses to give up. So I drop it for now.

“Besides,” Dimitri continues, “being a leader is in your blood, not mine. When I swore fealty, I meant it, Vanessa. You own my undying loyalty until my death.”

“Youaredeath,” I tease the common description others refer to him as. “Death will never come for you.”

“No matter. We have three months, and if this is truly the life you’re chasing, we need to get to work.”

I go to hand the gun back to him, but he shakes his head and pushes it away. “Keep it. I’ve killed many with it, but that was used for your first. It’s special now. It’s yours.”

He steps aside for me to exit first, his final word ringing through the room.

“Pakhan.”

“Intel claimsthe Volkov girl is taking her father’s place. Or aiming to. She has three months to prove herself.”

“Now that’s intriguing. A woman running the Bratva.” Pause. “This works better for my plans. She’ll end up with such a large target on her back, the mercenary I hire to take her out will likely be one of many. Her own soldiers will turn on her. I’ll be thanked for having her killed.”

“Signore?”

“Tell our man to keep his ear open for more news. In three months, I want to know how this plays out. If she’ll fail at her trials.” Another pause. “Gather the men. Let’s make a bet. I think a game is in order, don’t you?”

One Week Later

“You’re insane,you know that, right?”

The vanity mirror I’m seated in front of shows my responding smirk in its reflection. “I like to believe that insanity is a spectrum. Which end I fall on is up for debate.”

Anastasia snorts, jerking on my hair with her laughter. “The far end, Van. The far,farside.”

She reaches over my shoulder to pick up a tiny elastic band to tie to the bottom of the braid she’s created before flipping her creation over my shoulder and adjusting the rest of my hair. Anastasia’s always one to take the simple and make it beautiful. It’s her whole shtick for her stage performances.

“You honestly think that?” I ask, searching her own reflection for signs of her joke or seriousness.

She meets my gaze in the mirror, rolling her eyes. “Not even close. I believe you’re going to be the best leader the Bratva’s ever seen.”

I hope so.I don’t say that aloud because it’d put my doubt out there for her to hear and while I trust Anastasia as much as I do Dimitri, it’s a secret I’d like to keep from even her.

We’re one week into my enhanced training. Now that there’s no need to hide in the shadows, Dimitri has me training all hours of the day, having now moved onto weapons. Lev’s joined my training too, to provide other insights and to give me practice on someone with a much different fighting style than Dimitri. When he had me pinned yesterday with a knife to my throat, one wouldn’t think he’s the guy who could also destroy an entire network’s infrastructure on only an energy drink and a few hours’ effort.

But today, I’m going out to explore all the clubs, bars, and underground fight rings. It’s time I be seen by every soldier, every employee the Bratva pays, so they all understand what’s about to happen.

Dimitri already warned me about what’s coming next to visit: the trafficking rings. Where, deep in Russian mountains, lies a few warehouses with women and children being groomed and forced to “practice” with the staff there—the sick fucks—before being sold off to the highest bidder who’ll torture, maim, rape, and kill them to their heart’s desire before returning to buy another one and replace what they broke.

I’d always known about the trafficking rings but until taking over, I hadn’t realized how much Papa actually hid from me. How depraved they truly are, and how so many innocents are stolen for Bratva gain. They’re nothing like I imagined, having been told they’re filled with prostitutes rather than kidnapped women and children.

Motherfuckingchildren.Sometimes, when I think about Papa, it’s with fond memories. A fatherly bond he somehow managed to forge with me. But other times, I pray his soul is burning inad—Hell—for eternity. He obviously didn’t care, andreally, it’s unsurprising. I was a convenient sale when I was fifteen, so why should complete strangers be any different?

It’s disgusting. And something I’ll be ending immediately.

The issue is that trafficking brings in large sums of money, so many within the organization will likely be pissed off when I shut them down. While I don’t really care about pissing people off in exchange for what I feel is morally better, I know I also have to, to a point because being Pakhan doesn’t mean ruling with an iron fist. It’s being feared but also respected for my decisions, and finding that balance.

I don’t realize I sigh until Anastasia comes back into view, clapping the tops of my shoulders. “Seems like you’re thinking too hard. I knew I lost you when asking about your outfit choices.” She holds up two items. One a striking red bustier, and the other a black silk.

“Sorry, busy mind, I guess,” I reply, turning on the cushioned seat of my vanity stool to face her. Chewing on the corner of my bottom lip, I ask, “But what if I won’t be?”

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