Page 85 of Kings of Cruelty

I believe her. “What about your dad?” I ask, partially to change the subject and partially because I’m curious about what kind of man raised her.

Her fingers go still in my hair. “I…” She sighs, and I pull back again to look at her. “He tried, I guess. With me, anyway. My brothers were fucked because they were male. It wasn’t until I was older that I really saw him for what he was.” It’s her turn to grimace. “And a lot of that happened because I was stupid enough to be caught trying to contact Yura.”

“Yura?” I repeat, confused.

She nods, her cheeks flushing red. “He visited, and I was fascinated. I found his phone number, and I was going to text him to see if he wanted to… I don’t know, go on a date or something.”

I don’t speak, letting her sort through her thoughts.

“He got so mad, Nikolai,” she whispers. “My dad. I’ve never seen that side of him, but he lost his shit at me. I didn’t go back home for a while after because I was scared of what I’d seen.”

“Then Yura ended up in jail,” I say, putting the pieces together at last.

She nods again. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It was all my fault. Yura wasn’t wrong to blame me for it, honestly.” She forces a smile. “I wish Yura hadn’t responded like he had when he got out of jail, obviously, but yeah.”

I exhale slowly. “Yeah.” I feel calmer than I had when I got home, and I tell her slowly, “I should tell Kotya about what happened.”

“Yeah,” she replies. She touches my chin, getting me to tilt my head up so she can brush her lips against mine. “If your dad wants you out, something’s definitely going on.”

“Not that I think he really gives a fuck if anything happens to me,” I mutter. “But he’s up to something.”

I just wish I knew what.

TWENTY-TWO

Yuri

Kotya handsme a glass of vodka, and I take it gratefully. We’ve both been running around all day, figuring out who we can trust enough to handle certain operations. Sierra’s search for the missing arms stash is getting nowhere, which means we can’t count on that source of extra weapons.

“We have everything in the mansion, and we can probably count on Lebowski for some backup,” I say. I sit back on the big leather couch and sigh as I sip the vodka.

Kotya nods. “He owes me, but I think he’s skittish. He’s not going to get involved in anything major.”

Everybody’s on edge. After what Nikolai had said about his father’s behavior… We need to prepare, but it’s hard to know what to prepare for.

“Has your brother said anything?” I ask.

Kotya stops pacing to take a long swig of his drink. “No. Roman sent pictures of his new son.” He refills the glass and immediately takes another gulp.

“Good for him. Congrats to his wife?—”

“Hismistress.” Kotya slams the glass down hard enough that it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. “My father has suggested overand over that I should get a vasectomy. Did you know that? Not directly, but all the veiled hints. Because it would cause trouble for Roman if I had heirs.”

I’d heard, yeah, because Kotya complained about it before. I don’t mention that. “You’re done listening to him, right? We’re done. And Sierra’s pregnant already, so who cares?”

Kotya refills his drink again, then crosses the room and sits down on the couch next to me. His knee knocks against mine.

“I’m done listening to him. I shouldn’t let any of this bother me anymore.” He rubs his brow. “But my father gushed about the baby too. That’s Roman’s third child! They’ll fight over succession as much as any of my kids would. And we aren’t a fucking monarchy. There are no Romanovs here.”

I snort a laugh. “If you’re lucky, Roman’s family will suffer the same fate.”

“A gory end to all of them, a new regime for the rest of us.” He clinks his glass against mine. “To bloody revolutions.”

“To bloody revolutions,” I echo with a smile. We both take sips of our vodka. “If they’re the Romanovs, does that make you Princess Anastasia?”

Kotya chokes mid-drink, spilling vodka over himself. “How am I Anastasia?”

“The lost heir, or whatever.” I laugh at his scowl. “Look, you want to be the one person who survived the revolution!”

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