Page 20 of Silenced

It takesan hour to reachNav, so-called because Dmitri thought ‘Underworld’ was a funny name when I bought the parcel of land on his fifteenth birthday and gifted him with one of the alligators that live here.

Still, I’ve passed worse nights in my life than having a little sun huddled on my lap.

She doesn’t understand the importance of me drawing her onto my knees as I have. Not only because I’ve never given enough of a shit to hold a woman as she cried, but because I’minthe backseat.

No one drives me. Ever. Yet here I am, holding her, trusting one of my soldiers to transport me toNavwhen I trust no one behind the wheel…

For her, I trusted.

For her, I opted to use one of my limos when I only ever drive my Porsches.

For her.

I nuzzle my nose against her hairline where the liquid gold of her sunlight forms a halo around her head.

The scent of vomit is prevalent. Sour and bitter, it’s a reminder I didn’t need about how I found her.

My temper is already at its limits, but I can feel the blistering urge to rain hell on those who dared hurt her drawing me to the outer edges of sanity.

But, for now, everything is under control.

Boris is still in Kentucky under orders not to return until he’s brought me Rundel—alive.

If he kills him, he’ll feel my wrath, and no one wants to experience that.

Marku… well, he’ll suffer.

Soon.

When Cassiopeia sighs against my throat, the sound contented, I stroke my fingers over her hair, aware that she fell asleep a half hour ago. There’s a distinct difference between her passing out and her resting, and I’m relieved that the drug is starting to fade from her system.

That bastard will sob harder than she did earlier when I get my hands on him. My fingers fucking ache with the need to reap vengeance upon him.

Nostrils flaring, I spy the lights ofNavin the distance and, without jostling her, reach into my pants pocket for my phone.

The first message from my butler has me grunting in satisfaction.

Nikita: Your orders are in effect, Pakhan.

Then, I switch to the next conversation.

Dmitri: You owe me, Nikolai. Marku puked all over my brand fucking new Velascas.

I roll my eyes as I type an answer:

Me: Pussy.

Dmitri: Grigoriy says that blow to the back of his head when he fell on the tarmac gave Marku a concussion.

Me: It took a doctor to figure that out?

Dmitri: Just passing on the message. You want Grigoriy to treat him?

Me: No. Let him suffer. He won’t be alive long enough to worry about a little headache.

Dmitri: Want me to bring him to Nav tomorrow?

Me: Da. Once you secure him, get some rest. Be at Nav at eight AM.

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