Page 1 of Bratva Queen

1.

KATYA

I stared at the unwanted wedding ring around my finger. It felt surreal. An hour ago, I married Kristoff Romanov, the pakhan of a Russian Bratva. Only yesterday he had been my lover and boyfriend, the man I trusted most in the world. Then everything went down the crapper.

The asshole had blackmailed me into marrying him. It was either accepting a ring on my finger, or he would have continued his Russian roulette, and possibly put a bullet through his own head. And that was after he’d already shot his right-hand man, Viking, a man I loved as a brother.

I slammed the door shut after Kristoff left our bedroom. I couldn’t stand the sight of him after he broke my heart. The cold bastard had forced me to marry him out of some revenge ploy. There weren’t enough sedatives in the world to quench my rage. If he thought that I would stay with him, he had another think coming.

I roused myself from my stupor and ransacked my closet until I found a duffel bag. For a moment I froze when I touched the frayed ends of the leather strap. It was the same bag I’d thrown my clothes in four years ago, when my mother and I had fled from her stalker. How ironic that the same bag appeared again now, in my time of need.

I threw the bag onto my bed, then went looking for my passport. I needed money, I needed…

A cloud of despair fell over me, putting out the fumes I was running on.

I swallowed and dropped onto the edge of my bed. What I needed was a miracle. Kristoff had made it clear that he had no intention of letting me go anywhere. A pained laugh escaped mylips. How I had longed for him to want me and never let me go. Guess it was true what they said, be careful what you wish for.

No, if I wanted to leave, I needed to be smart about it. I needed a plan, the means, a damn getaway car, and—to be fair—probably the National Guard, to help break me out of a kingpin’s fortified mansion.

The pit in my stomach grew deeper. Had it only been a few hours since I’d floated on top of the world? Since I had believed that the man of my dreams, Kristoff Romanov, who barely seemed to acknowledge I was a woman, had caved, and wanted to be with me just as much as I’d wanted to be with him for years?

My eyes darted toward the black La Perla box on my dresser. I’d spent hours looking for the perfect lingerie to give Kristoff a night to remember. The beautiful box, which promised a night of passion and debauchery, seemed to mock me.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, then got back on my feet. If I’d learned anything from my years on the cancer ward, it was that only death was the end. Until then? Well, every minute spent breathing meant there was still hope.

I shoved the box of sexiness underneath the bed and went in search of my phone. Panic set in for a moment when I couldn’t locate it. Had he taken it? Was he intending to imprison me here until he murdered my father as he’d promised his mentor? I shuddered to think about it. Oh God, I’d just found out who my father was. Of course he wasn’t some nice teacher or truckdriver my mother had had a one-night stand with. No, it was a Russian mobster who, apparently, had murdered an entire family.

I can’t deal with that right now. One crisis at a time.

I finally located my phone in my bag and sighed with relief. I should’ve known Kristoff wouldn’t take it. Why would he? It’s not like I would use it to call the police.

I started pacing as I made a mental list of people who I could call for help. Who would be crazy enough to take on a Russian kingpin? More importantly, who could I hire that I wouldn’t mind placing in danger? No one I cared about, obviously. Then it hit me. There was one number I’d put into my phone for a ‘just in case’ situation like this one.

My heart beat like a drum as I placed the call. She answered just when I was about to hang up.

“Yes?”

It was a smooth, feminine voice, with a hint of boredom.

“Is this Onyx?” The one who was on the FBI’s most wanted hacker’s list.

A moment of silence. “Who are you?”

“I’m Katya. I’m um, a friend of your sister, Tess.”

An annoyed sigh filled my ears. “If you called me instead of her, I assume you’re in a pickle.” She named an obscene price. “That’s my starting rate. Add-ons like a getaway car, fake passports, secure housing, etc. are extra. Don’t waste my time unless you can afford it.”

Oh, I could afford it, technically. Because apparently my father was richer than God. A little tidbit Kristoff´s ex, Svetlana, had told me, right after she made it clear it was one of the reasons Kristoff had married me. I just didn’t have access to that kind of money, yet.

“I have some money, but I don’t think I can afford you,” I admitted. “I doubt Kristoff will lend me his credit card for an escape attempt.”

“Wait. Kristoff, as in Kristoff Romanov? The guy who those crazy twins work for?” There was a little growl in her voice. A common occurrence with people who had to deal with either the pakhan or Angel and Damon.

“The one and only.”

“Are those motherfuckers stalking you as well?”

A sudden light bulb went off in my head. “You’re their hacker.” The one who the twins were chasing and intended to put in a nice little cage.

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