Page 73 of Merciless Queen

The skin between her eyes furrow, but I skip past the dark history when Elio was Capo because it isn’t relevant to her and isn’t something I wish to revisit.

“It was seven years later before I was finally promoted.”

Her eyes shift to the side of the room, her mouth parting as she mutters something beneath her breath before stating, “You were twenty-one then?—”

“Seven years,” I repeat, tone hardening. “I wasfinallyable to do what the fuck I wanted. Finally able to target your father, and he disappeared. Like heknewI’d be coming for his ass. Fivefuckingyears.” My hands form tight fists by my sides, a swell of anger that’s only caused by visiting the shitty past causes. “And every single time I got close to him, he seemed to slip underground.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” It comes out as a harsher bite than I mean it to, countering my true curiosity. Vanessa’s expression is one of a person just discovering the answer to the ultimate question.

“He was always gone, not that I minded. Being home from boarding school sucked, so the less he was around, the better. But there was never a pattern to his...” She lifts her hands, making air quotes. “...business trips. He just came and went all the time.”

Of course, he’d only tell her he was leaving for business and not going into hiding. “No matter who we caught and tortured, no matter how many of his businesses we blew up, he never came up for long. Then, a couple years ago, spies found him in New York. We couldn’t risk an attack onFamigliaterritory, but he never returned to Russia.” I stop talking since we’re both well aware how that story ended. “That’s why you’re here,” I finish.“My vow was to destroy the Volkov line, and even though your father’s gone, his bloodline lives on.”

I’m sorryare the final words that come to mind but remain unspoken.

When I expect her to fight, to yell, something, she merely breathes, and with her next breath, pins me with her crystal ocean eyes.

“I’m sorry, Zeno. For your mother, father, Serafina, and you. I understand the name I took on, the crimes he committed. I’m a Volkov and his blood taints mine. His sins are mine to carry. You’ve heard how much I despise him, but selling my virginity isn’t even the entire reason.” She huffs, almost amused, and shakes her head. “I’m not even that surprised by your story, given how sick his mind was. Women meant less than nothing to him. Do you know what I’ve been doing since becoming Pakhan?” Her words come faster, harsher. “The Bratva owned trafficking rings. There were warehouses packed with women and children, forced into unspeakable acts to be ‘trained.’” She lifts both hands into mock quotation marks. “And then sold to rich assholes who tormented them. Raped them. Used them in their sick games. For two years, I’ve been tracking every transaction, every sale, every trade. Every person out there who lost their freedom because ofhim. Because he was a sick fucker who made cash over other people’s misery. Children who now live with traumas that I don’t know how to fix! Not properly. And then there’s the ones who didn’t make it.” Her voice fades for a second. “Who angered their owners and are a corpse in their yards, but I’ve realized those are the lucky ones. The ones whose pain ended and they’re at peace. I supplemented the rings with brothels ofhiredwomen and men who earn a salary. No guest raises a hand to them because they know better. It’s a one-way trip to one of my incinerators if they try.”

I knew that. Some of it anyway. I’ve been watching since her takeover and saw when she shut down the rings and opened brothels instead, but hearing her side sends a different emotion through me. Pride, almost, that she’s done all that. That she’s so different from what her name makes her out to be.

But I don’t know what to think about it either.

In between deep breaths, she speaks again. “The name Volkov is defined by a lot of evil. A lot of cruelty. But not all of us are like that. I’m tryingsohard not to be, and my cousin, Dimitri, he’s the only reason I’m in this role. They wanted him to be Pakhan since he’s a man, but he insisted it be me, being Ursin’s child.”

“You’re Pakhan because you worked for it, Vanessa. Your cousin might have supported you, but you did all the hard work to achieve it.”

The words slip out before I can stop myself, and a strange look enters her eyes. She blinks before shaking her head, a half-smile tugging on her mouth. I like that smile more than I should. There’s a sweet innocence to it that I could easily find addicting, so before dwelling too long, I say the next thing that comes to mind.

“You broke tradition. It’s no small thing.”

She looks at me again. The weight of her gaze unsettles me. Makes my insides clench with untold emotions.

“I can’t fix the past.” She stands, her glance dropping to her makeshift weapon again, and I straighten against the door, preparing for whatever action she might take. “Kidnapping me doesn’t change anything, Zeno. It would have been better off for you to kill me when your men invaded. After failing in my bedroom, you had the opportunity. Me and my uncle were both there, and then it’d be one Volkov remaining. Instead, you chose a different path and it makes me wonder why,” she muses, tipping her head to the side. All signs of empathy, of sympathy,are long gone and she’s inquisitive again. Thoughtful. Round three of our game begins after this intermission of truth.

“Just like I’m wondering why you’ve been playing the ideal prisoner. Other than this show of…whatever this is.” I wave my hand toward the mess. “You’ve gone along with everything I’ve demanded. Why?”

Her perfect mouth spreads into a deceitful smile. One reminding me of inside the club, when she lured me in. “Seems we both have more questions.”

“You get to ask one,” I offer. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

After the answers she’s gained, I expect her to re-ask her question regarding her fate, and need to decide when I’ll break the news to her: before or after Nero gets the documentation. Instead, she asks something completely different. Something that has my walls re-erecting and the previous conversation returning with full force, with a sense of needing to protect Serafina.

“What does Serafina know about her heritage?”

“She’s aware she’s the offspring of Ursin Volkov, and that he’s now deceased.”

“Does she know who I am?”

“You’re Ursin Volkov’s daughter.”And no one more.

“And technically?—”

“Nothing,” I cut her off, shoving away from the shut doors. “Nothing but my broken queen, Volkov.La mia regina distrutta.You’re nothing to her and never will be.”

The door slamsshut and suddenly, I’m alone before I realize he’s gone.

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