Page 8 of Thorns of Love
“You want me to be the pawn,” I murmured.
“Pawn today. Queen tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Except I have something he wants,” I declared. “So how about we skip the whole pawn shit, and I just go straight to queen status.”
Vasili’s lips curved into a smile and pride entered his expression. “There is my sister.” I wrapped my hands around him.
I was a queen. The most powerful piece on the chess board. It was time I started acting like one.
FOUR
TATIANA
My bravery must have been left on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse where Sasha and Branka got married because as I neared The Den of Sin so many emotions stirred inside me. Dread among others.
It was the first time I’d stepped foot anywhere near this place since Adrian’s death. My fingers reached for my necklace, twisting the thorned rose pendant nervously. I never took it off anymore. I didn’t know whether it was to remind me of my husband’s love or betrayal.
It had been a year since that fucking accident. Since the explosion that wiped out everything. Traces of his body. Traces of his car. Traces of my memories.
I was left with an emptiness. A fractured mind. Suffocating feelings that I couldn’t understand.
My hand fluttered to my stomach.
It was ridiculous to feel this dread as I neared The Den of Sin, the club Vasili named after Bella’s and my dorm room. Our wild days when things seemed simpler. Bella hooked up with Vasili the same night that Adrian finally caved in.
It was the night when our story finally began. Officially.
That last year of college, he called a mistake. I didn’t. I called it the best night of my life.
Yan opened the door of the car, waiting for me to exit. I sat unmoving for two heartbeats too long. I inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out. I forced myself out of the vehicle and stepped onto the busy street in the heart of New Orleans. The buzz of the city hummed. A drop of sweat ran down my back. The sun burned hot and heavy. For once, the laugh of the locals and tourists didn’t make me want to claw at my brain.
I was about to take a step when I felt eyes on me, watching me. I paused and peered around me. There were tourists, families, my brothers’ guards. Everybody was talking in rushed, happy tones. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I was about to chalk the sensation to my state of mind. But my skin prickled again, sending a visible shudder down my spine.
My eyes traveled across the street. The oldest surviving building of New Orleans stood there. A local pub. Men smoked and talked. Each one of them had a drink in their hands.
Except for one.
A familiar dark shadow stood silently, taller than all the other men. He didn’t exactly blend in, nor was he trying to. He wore a black shirt and pants, matching his hair, giving those businessman vibes. God, his face was beautiful. It belonged on the billboards. Sharp angular features. High cheekbones. Thick-stubbled jaw.
And those eyes that could send you spiraling into their darkness.
He watched me, taunting with promises of what was to come. Like he was decrypting me, piece by piece, before he’d tear me apart.
A shudder rolled down my spine. My ribs dug into the flesh of my lungs, or possibly heart, making it hard to draw air into my lungs. He wouldn’t try something here. Would he?
My phone buzzed in my purse. A text from Illias.
You’re ready for me, moya luna.
FIVE
KONSTANTIN
Everything was in place.
Tatiana would be mine after this event.
