Page 28 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“For whose blood? Whose vendetta?” I probe further, my voice hardening.

He coughs again, this time struggling for breath. “We weren’t given a name, just ordered to chase you and your wife and make sure she got hurt. They said you’d know when the time comes.”

I stare at him, my patience exhausted. “You know, vague answers have a way of resulting in painful deaths.”

He grimaces, realizing the gravity of his situation too late. When he finishes speaking, there’s a moment of eerie calm; his confession hanging in the air like a noose, sealing his fate.

The room feels charged with a palpable tension, a silent understanding that this moment marks the end for him.

My fists clench, the need to kill this man burning inside me like a relentless flame. There’s no mercy in my gaze, only a cold, unwavering resolve. The room seems to shrink around us, closing in on the doomed man tied to the chair.

Without a word, I step closer, my eyes never leaving his. He tries to speak, perhaps to beg for mercy, but the words die in his throat as my hands find his neck and I feel the fragile beat of his pulse beneath my fingers.

Horror fills his eyes as he realizes what was happening, but it’s too late for him. His gasps for air fill the room, growing weaker with each passing moment.

The world around me fades, leaving only the sound of his labored breaths and the pulse of blood beneath my fingers.

His struggles weaken as I squeeze, my grip relentless, his wide, terror-stricken eyes locked with mine. I keep eye contact, forcing him to look at me until the life drains out of him.

His body convulses briefly, then falls limp, the spark of life extinguished. I release him, letting his lifeless form slump to the ground. The room is silent once more, the echoes of his last breaths fading into nothingness.

There’s no remorse in me, only a chilling calmness that settles over my shoulders.

When I finally make it to our apartment, it’s late. The penthouse is dark, save for a sliver of light spilling out from under the bedroom door. I walk in quietly, expecting to find Gabriette tossing and turning in the throes of a sleepless night.

Instead, I found her deep in slumber, her body curled up on one side of the bed, her face peaceful in repose. But even in the dim light, I can see the cuts on her face, tiny shards of glass from the shattered windows, each one a testament to the night’s events.

As I stand there, I realize, perhaps for the first time, how young she is, how untouched by the brutality and violence that’s shaped my life.

In that moment, she’s not just an arranged wife or a woman who’s entered into a world she doesn’t fully understand. She’s a human being, vulnerable and real.

After a shower, I slide into bed beside her, careful not to wake her, my body aching with a fatigue that’s as much emotional as it is physical.

As I close my eyes, I know that something has shifted, a wall has been breached. The future remains a murky landscape of unknowns, riddled with threats and vendettas yet to be claimed.

But for the first time in a long time, I find myself wondering not just about my place in that future, but about Gabriette’s as well. And that thought, unsettling as it is, lingers long after sleep has claimed me.

GABRIETTE

Iwake up in a bed that’s far too large for one person, a fact that’s never bothered me until this very moment.

Last night’s events play like a horror movie in my mind: the gunfire, the chase, and the sheer panic I felt. It’s a rude awakening to the life I’ve married into. Even as a mafia princess, I’ve been shielded from this kind of brutality.

But I was smack bang in the middle of it all, driving a literal getaway car while Mikhail shot at people behind us.

I would still be wondering why they shot at us if Mikhail didn’t explain just who his father was. He’s the most powerful man in the Russian organized crime underworld, and now Mikhail will be taking over from him.

No wonder Sophia didn’t want this life with him.

I curl up on my side and just as loneliness starts to creep into my thoughts, the bathroom door creaks open, pulling me out of my reverie.

Mikhail walks out, water droplets still clinging to his skin, a towel slung low around his waist.

He glances at me, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a fleeting second, I see something there; concern, maybe? Something that I’ve never seen before.

My breath catches as he makes his way toward me, that unreadable expression still on his face. Instead of barking orders or avoiding eye contact as he usually does, he kneels beside the bed, his proximity both unsettling and comforting.

He reaches up and gently tilts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

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