Page 82 of Merciless Queen

She continues, like I’ve unleashed a tornado unable to be reined in. “I begged him to stop while he removed his clothes. As hetouchedme. In my head, I called him thed'yavol, the devil. The look in his eyes…” She shudders, and I stroke a thumb over her wrist until reaching her racing pulse, but I’m not sure she’s paying enough attention to feel my touch. “Pure evil. You knowwhat he said to me? In that statement, I knew there’d be no stopping this.” Her eyes flash my way and she yanks her wrist away, tucking it against her chest. “‘I like it when they plead.’ I wasn’t the first one he did this to.”

“Vanessa—”

“And then…he did it. Raped me while I cried.”

“Vanessa—”

“You know what the worst fucking part is? That it was Christmas time. PapadestroyedChristmas. It was never the same after that year.”

Christmas changed for me too at one point, when Madre moved out of the mansion. Padre was barely at home, so I spent the day with Madre and Serafina instead. She did her best to bring the kind of Christmas I had as a kid to Serafina, but it wasn’t the same. There was a sadness in Madre’s eyes that even the holiday spirit never could make go away.

“You’ll get him.”

She blinks down at me before scoffing. “How’s that? Until you let me go, he’s a free man.”

I’m not letting you go.I skip answering because I truly don’t have a response for her.

She shakes her head, as though wiping away this entire conversation and spins slightly until she faces me head-on. “My turn. You asked about a shit moment in my life, so I want yours. Tell me why you didn’t become a capo until twenty-one.”

“Going for the kill, huh,” I grumble, repositioning my body. After her story, mine is pitifully normal. A revenge plot that failed even before it kicked off. “Even though I was Padre’s heir, I was fourteen when he was killed so leadership fell to his second-in-command, Elio.” I pause, debating exactly how much to admit to her about the organization’s internal systems. “He’s the one who led the attack on your house, but back then, he became interim Capo. He never wanted the role but held it,knowing it’d only be for a few years. He finished my training, entertained every one of my plots, but the Commission forbade him from retaliating against your father. Given how your father grew stronger before his attack, I think they were scared we’d lose.”

“The Commission?”

I smirk. “How much do you know about us?”

“Less than I’d like. I thought I knew who ran the Cosa Nostra—Alessandro Vitale—but apparently was wrong about that.” Her tongue skates the inside of her mouth. “We have information on all the prominent organizations around the world, except you. Howisthat, by the way?”

I skip her last question and return to her point about Vitale. “You weren’t wrong about Vitale being a capo, but he doesn’t run the whole Cosa Nostra, as don’t I. The Cosa Nostra isn’t like you guys, or even theFamiglia. We’re not a single unit, but rather five separate ones united under one name.” Thoughunitedmight be a bit of a stretch for how we function. “Referred to as the Five Families; five ancient bloodlines who’ve led their factions for decades. Overseeing all five was once a single man, the Godfather. History best explains what too much power can do to one person. The feds were scouring any lead they had, and nearly took down an entire Family after he sold them out, so before anything went down, all Five Families turned on him. Since then, they created a Commission of five elected people—one from each family—to oversee us. Vitale is one family. Mancinis another. There’s three others.”

She purses her lips, her obvious distaste apparent. Everything I know of the woman says she’d despise being held by another’s command, even if it’s just how the system works.

“I don’t get names for the other three?”

“Do you need them?”

She scowls but doesn’t answer, so I return to answering her question. “The Commission didn’t want Elio striking against the Bratva and threatened removing him and replacing me if we tried. They’d destroy the Mancini line by handing the organization to another bloodline. But they wouldn’t have the same power once I was Capo because I wasn’t an interim leader. Their power didn’t stretch to that extent.

“That started five years of training, planning, and waiting. My eighteenth birthday came, and Elio and I had a meeting with them. They banned me from taking the position, claiming I hadn’t proved myself enough.” My voice takes on an edge with the memory. “Assholes. They knew I’d initiate a war that afternoon, so they forced Elio in the position for longer. That began three more years of playing good. Doing anything to better the Cosa Nostra and prove to them I wasn’t some mindless, stupid teenager who’d entice a war the moment I was given true power.”

I watch her for this next part, gauging her reaction. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Changing yourself. Proving yourself. Doing anything and everything to make a point to people who’d rather tear you down. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Volkov?”

One brow lifts slightly, as does her mouth in a muted smirk. “Say what’s on your mind, Mancini.”

I lean slightly toward her, moving into her space, and lower my voice despite us being alone. “Vanessa, I watched you run deals, meet your entire staff, punish the traitors, and train to ensure your father’s Elite would accept you. I also know that one day you changed. Decided to say ‘fuck you’ and did things your way. You concocted new plans for your businesses, replaced your father’s Elite with your own, and ran things how you wanted to. You fought, and fought fucking hard. I’d say we’re similar.”

“We’re nothing alike,” she counters with a haughty air to her tone.

Agree to disagree.

“Finish your story,” she demands in that bossy way of hers, recrossing her legs. “You were twenty-one when you got the position. Then you went after Papa?”

I nod, huffing with annoyance at the memories. “Tried to, but it’s like he knew I’d be coming for him, and he ran. Disappeared underground. No one could find him; wherever he went off to, he hid well. We attacked his businesses, assuming that’d bring him to the surface, but it almost never did. The few times it did work, he disappeared again before we could catch him.”

She snorts, staring into the sunlight again. I search her face for any sign of sadness, given the person at the centre of the conversation. “Hard to picture Papa scared of anything or anyone. He always acted like he was on top of the world. If he was scared of you, makes you wonder how he got the leg up on your father.” Her lips press together in contemplation.

We fall silent for a few moments, both lost in thoughts. Well, I presume that’s where she is, as she gazes off in the distance, looking utterly at peace. Probably more so than I’ve ever seen her before.

Me…I’m not at peace. Not even close.

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