Page 104 of Beautiful Scar

“You failed me,” I say again, this time speaking through my teeth as rage fills my chest. “I don’t care if the oldpakhanordered it. You should have found a way to kill that sick monster.” My voice trembles and I’m mad at myself for getting so emotional. I wanted this to be a rational discussion. Instead, I’m thinking about flying at him and clawing out his eyes.

Now I get why Tigran nearly beat him to death.

“I know,Dashenka. All those years seeing you living here, afraid of your own shadow, they killed me, and I knew I chose wrong. But you thought he was gone, and you still ended up here anyway. What difference would it have made?”

“He wouldn’t still be alive, and he wouldn’t be trying to kill me now,” I snap at him. “Don’t make excuses. Don’t pretend like you did the right thing. You were supposed to take care of me, and you didn’t.”

“I tried, I really did. I gave you support, space, anything you wanted for twelve long years?—”

“And then the moment that became inconvenient, you sold me to the Armenians.”

“That isn’t fair,” he says, hardening. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Right, yourpakhanordered it.” I step closer to him and point a finger at his chest. “I bet you’ve justified every shitty decision you’ve ever made in your life. I bet you’re good at pretending like they were all outside your control. But you did them, Dad. You and only you. And now I’m here to see if you’ll do something decent for once in your life.”

His face twitches as he stares me down. “And what’s that,Dashenka?”

“Convince Valentin to send the Brotherhood whatever support they request in their war against the Irish. Maybe this time, you can have a hand in killing the man that threw your daughter in a cage and left her scarred.” I rub my palm against my cheek and turn so he can get a good look at the reminder I can’t ever escape.

His face goes flat. He tilts his head, studying me. “Tigran put you up to this,” he says.

“No, Dad, Tigran tried to talk me out of it.”

“You really want Russians to get involved in Armenian problems?”

“I want the Zeitsevs to live up to their promises!” I throw up my hands, beyond frustrated. Then I stalk over to him. Dad looms over me, but I don’t back down. “You’re going to make it happen. Valentin listens to you, and you’re my father. You’ve got some moral standing here. Explain to him the situation. Tell him you want to personally bring some soldiers, guns, and money downto Baltimore to help take out Seamus McGrath like you should have twelve years ago. Don’t take no for an answer.”

Dad’s face is granite now. This isn’t my father anymore—it’s the powerful member of a vicious Bratva organization. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll die knowing you’re a coward.”

We don’t speak. The moment hangs thick before us. All those years I spent in this room a silent testament to my cause. He has to feel them the same way I do, weighing down my shoulders.

Except for me, they’re slowly peeling away. I feel lighter, freer, stronger than I ever have. Standing up to him like this would’ve never, ever occurred to me even two months back. But now?

I’m barely keeping myself from physically assaulting him.

And it feelsgoodto be a vicious queen.

I smile, showing teeth, because Tigran’s going to be proud.

And when he’s proud, the handcuffs come out.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says at last. “But I make no promises.”

“Do more than your best,” I snap in his face. Then I storm back to the bed and gather up my bag. “Step up for once in your life.” I brush past him and he cringes out of my way.

“If I had known what would happen sending you down to those Armenians—” He calls out, but stops when I turn on him, passion burning off me like flaming gasoline on the edge of exploding.

“Don’t finish that stupid sentence,Dad. Just get me the soldiers and guns.”

I storm out of the room, heart pounding in my chest.

That went better than I thought. I’m grinning, exultant as I head back downstairs. I’m not sure it’ll work, but I feel like I’ve grown ten inches in ten minutes.

Evan’s waiting for me in the foyer. He looks serious, his face hard, as he pulls me into a rough hug. “I heard some of that,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah? And what do you think?”

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