Page 61 of Trapping His Assassin

Lex was always certain. He never wavered. He never said that he was wrong. He was always right, and if he was wrong, he would create a situation in which he was no longer wrong, and back to being right.

I signed to him.

“I think living in the United States is stressful for Sloane, and you should move her to Russia. Make sure she has no passport or identification, and she won’t run.”

“You think living here is the reason we can’t conceive?” Alexie wasn’t screaming at me as he watched my hands. He was giving me his undivided attention.

Me: I think taking her back home will create a shock to her system, and allow her to heal from all the trauma she’s endured. If she stays here, she will never grow and become a person. Right now, she believes she’s an object and is acting that way.

I sat in tense silence as Alexie’s face twisted in deep contemplation. His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, the only signs of his internal struggle. I dared not break the tense atmosphere, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground, and waiting for him to reveal what was causing him such obvious distress. My heart raced with anticipation and fear, wondering what could be so troubling for him.

“If we go home, who’ll take my place?”

I slapped a fist over my heart. No words needed to be said. He knew the men were ready, I was on my way to being a great leader, and the Pakhan wanted it this way. I may as well pave the road.

Alexie’s expression shifted, revealing a vulnerable side that reminded me of my father, but not the current version of Alexie, the man who had taken me off the streets and given me a stronger sense of family than I ever thought possible.

“I’ll be there if you need me,” he said with concern etched into his features. I unconsciously touched the scar on my neck, a reminder of the night when I first discovered my power. Alexie may see it as a traumatic experience, but for me, it was a moment of empowerment. It had been a long time since I’d needed him by my side.

And it wouldn’t be for long.

However, I was able to defend myself that night for the first time in my entire life. I wasn’t a victim, I was a fucking survivortaking his power back. It had molded me into the man reflected in the mirror every morning.

“I’ll go if that’s what you want. However, I need a promise from you.” Alexie whipped out his knife.

A blood oath.

An outdated idea that we would hold this promise between us like honorable men. I was anything but. Along with Alexie. So this was for show. If either of us were to renege, the other would kill them.

“When my son is of age, you will not only take him in to train, if I’m no longer in this world, you will help him take the reins.” He smirked.

I held up a one and then an eight, to signify I would when he was eighteen years old. No way anyone would do business with a small child. I wasn’t that lucky. For most meetings, I was only invited as a courtesy or out of curiosity, not for my brain or skills.

“What? I didn’t want to until you turned eighteen.”

Sometimes Alexie was a moron. I sighed internally.

Me: Right, but you were running the day-to-day operations. Think about how I was treated when I followed you to meetings. No one would take your metaphorical son seriously.

I couldn’t believe we were arguing about a child that didn’t even exist yet.

Alexie paused for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed the potential impact on his son from my perspective. At that moment, it didn’t matter whose blood was flowing through his veins; all that mattered was understanding the situation from a different viewpoint.

He took his knife and sliced his palm, before sticking it out between us. I grabbed the hilt, and did the same to my palm. “Deal.”

We shook, and I relaxed. I may not have flipped out on Alexie. That wasn’t my way, but I was able to get him to leave,so I could take over completely. That was the best outcome. If he fought me, I may have lost.

I wasn’t Alexie’s kind of crazy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Valentina

Ever since the harrowing encounter that left me trembling with newfound fear, I’ve been wandering through Roman’s opulent mansion, taking in every lavish detail. As I roamed the grounds, I overheard Roman discussing Benedikt’s slow recovery with his men. Gossip quickly spread among the guards during shift changes, and their careless chatter echoed throughout the gardens, oblivious to who might be listening.

I mean, I didn’t blame them.

I couldn’t get his screams out of my mind. When I went to sleep that night, the squelching noises of the spoon scooping the eyeball out of the socket filled my mind. Nausea sent me running to the bathroom, and vomiting a small bit of bile into the toilet.

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