Page 78 of Vicious Addictions

He closes his eyes and grunts, “Go back to your room, Mina.”

“Is that another order?” I challenge. “Or do you save those just for the bedroom?”

Instead of answering me, he pulls away, grabs his jacket, and storms out of the room, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.

I wait all night for him to return, but he doesn’t. Apparently, being in the same room with me is clearly too much of a temptation for him to resist.

Fine.

If that’s how he wants to play this, then that’s how he’ll have it.

Jude acting hot one minute and cold the next is giving me whiplash.

I’m tired of chasing after him. If he wants me, he knows where to find me.

And if he doesn’t? Then so be it.

If Jude Adamo Romano insists on pretending I mean nothing to him, then he means even less to me.

I am Mina-fucking-Crane, the rightful heir to the Crane Firm.

Who needs an Outfit prince to love her when my fate was always to be a queen anyway?

Chapter 13

Mina

Twenty years old

“Well, that was fun.” Rolo laughs, wiping his bloodstained daggers on his pants. “I love it when they put up a fight,” he adds, unable to hide the wicked grin on his lips, like a predator reveling in the hunt.

Remus chuckles under his breath, shaking his head in amusement at the way his twin gets such a twisted thrill in spilling Bratva’s blood.

I, on the other hand, feel nothing whatsoever. No giddy satisfaction nor guilt-ridden remorse.

Another person would worry that their moral compass was so misaligned, but not me.

It just is what it is.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s either them or us.

And I’ll always choose us.

For the past eight months, we’ve been dismantling Pavlin’s empire, piece by piece, using every secret from his little black book to strike with precision. Every location where he moved his product—gone. Every crew member we found—dead. We have him cornered, bleeding out, scrambling to keep control. But unlike us, Pavlin and his boss, Petrov, don’t have the luxury of knowing their enemy’s next move. They’re blind. Weak. And we’ll keep them that way for as long as we can.

Pavlin’s biggest mistake was writing everything down, mapping out his entire operation months in advance. Thanks to his paranoia, we know precisely where his shipments cross the border and where his men carve up his product. We don’t just attack—we erase.

By my count, Pavlin won’t last two months. If we don’t get to him first, his ownPakhanwill put a bullet in his skull for the disgrace he’s brought upon their syndicate. Either way, he’s a dead man walking. The Bratva will have to claw their way out of the ruins we’ve left behind.

But I know better than to believe this war ends with him. My father knows it, too. Pavlin is just a piece of the puzzle. The Bratva will regroup. They always do. If this newPakhanis determined to keep his foothold in London, we’ll ensure every step forward feels like wading through hell.

However, a full-scale war isn’t in the Firm’s best interest.

My father knows that. And so does Petrov.

Which is why we hit them where it hurts the most—their money. If we make it impossible for them to conduct business in the UK, they’ll have no choice but to negotiate a new peace treaty, one they will be forced to uphold.

It’s a good plan. A brutal, calculated plan. And one I’m proud to be part of even if I don’t share Rolo’s enthusiasm for death.

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