Page 47 of The Pretty Savage

"Nothing except me," I murmured, downing the rest of my drink before flagging the waitress for another one. "Heinrich, the leader of The Schatten, had a fallout with the rest of the Council more than twenty years ago. I was just a kid when that happened, but I still remember the frenzy that took over everyone, because Heinrich had assassins that could destroy our families in the blink of an eye. He vowed he would destroy us all, and over the years he's been clearing out smaller families, slowly climbing toward the bigger fish."

"Which means you," Dante added, understanding dawning on him. "But, she would've tried to kill you by now. She would've done something." Oh, she's been doing something all right.

Messing with my head.

Making me feel things I promised I would never allow myself to feel.

"Why now?" Dante frowned.

"You know why," I said pointedly. "It's not exactly a secret that I'm the next one in line to inherit everything, and well," I chuckled, thanking the waitress as she placed the new glass in front of me, "we're not being very subtle with our recruitment, are we?"

"No, not really." Dante grinned. "But they can't find anything concrete, at least not yet. I'm pretty sure my father is going to get a brain aneurysm from all the thinking he's been doing lately. He's trying to figure me out, but I've been evading him every step of the way. His little minions think they have something on us, but it's all lies we cascaded.”

“But that all still doesn't answer my question. Why didn't she try to kill you yet if she's been sent for that? Why attend the Academy? Why all the lies when she could've easily found your cabin and taken you out. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a big motherfucker and I know you know how to fight, but that girl…" He shook his head, obviously enamored with the way she fought, and I tried not to show how much that little tidbit bothered me. "She's a fucking machine, man. I could see why someone would want her in their organization, but still."

"The answer is still no, Dante," I grumbled. "She doesn't get to be a part of this. I don't trust her. I don't think I ever will." Liar. "Besides, we have enough good candidates that we don't need her."

"Wait," Jax intercepted, obviously deep in thought. "Maybe Dante is right."

"Oh, come on," I groaned, closing my eyes for a second. "Et tu, Brute?"

"Listen, Adrian." my best friend narrowed his eyes at me. "I can see that something about her is bothering you more than you're letting on, and that's fine. But we might need her. Dante is right—she's a damn good fighter and we need people like her if we want to take down the leaders of our families without too many casualties. And if she is working for The Schatten, isn't it better keeping her close to us, instead of keeping our distance?"

Goddammit, I hated when they had a point, but I still didn't like it. I didn't like the fact that I would have to see her face, not only during classes, but during the meetings we had planned for those that had passed the initiation. I obviously couldn't trust myself around her.

Today wasn't supposed to go the way it did. I wanted to corner her, to force her to tell me who she really was, and instead I rubbed her pussy like my life depended on it, almost coming in my pants from the sheer vision of her face as she came on my hand.

So one might think I had no control when it came to her.

"I hear you," I muttered, "but I still don't like it."

"You don't have to like it." Dante shrugged. "I didn't particularly like the fact that you invited Gabriela to the meet up last night, yet here we are." I chuckled at that. Gabriela Barone was Dante's sore spot, and while I had no idea what went down between the two of them, I knew they hated each other with a passion. "We need Vega, and we also need to keep an eye on her. This way we could kill two birds with one stone, and she'd be none the wiser. Let her in and let's see what she does. Besides," the motherfucker grinned, "I'd be happy to train her if you don't feel up to it."

"Absolutely fucking not!" I roared, shaking with rage, trying to erase the images of Vega and Dante together, sweaty, preparing in the dark rooms, all fucking alone. "I'll train her."

That had Jax raising his eyebrows as if he couldn't quite believe what just came out of my mouth. I hated training other people. Loathed it with a passion, and the only reason why I accepted the position of instructor for offensive and defensive techniques this year was because the three of us needed to be here at the Academy for things to start moving.

Arseniy and Ethan couldn't join us—at least not yet—and I actually couldn't wait for the two of them to finally arrive at the Academy after New Year's Eve. By then we should have most things set in stone, ready to take over as necessary.

Andries thought my father had made me come here, and I was letting them both think they had any say in what I did and how. It wasn't my fault my father couldn't control his buddies on the Council, or that he was slipping more and more with each passing year.

His life was one I would gladly take, but that didn't mean I couldn't play with him for a little while.

"Then it's settled." Dante practically glowed with satisfaction. "Vega will get an invite."

"Yes," I grumbled, trying to hide how much it both scared and excited me. She'd be at my mercy, doing anything and everything I wanted her to do, and the mere thought had my cock hardening behind my pants, reminding me that I ignored it after I escaped from Vega. "But I'll be the one to handle her."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll handle her just fine." Dante grinned, downing the rest of his drink. "Now," he continued as he dropped the glass on the table. "You both got the message from Arseniy, right?"

Judging by the look on Jax's face, we both got it and neither one of us liked it.

Between the five of us, I had no idea which one had the more fucked-up upbringing, but Arseniy… He had the worst one. His father, Oleksandr Morozov, was a special type of monster that didn't only like torturing those that dared to go against him, but his own kid as well. There were no tears when Arseniy pushed the knife to the hilt, ramming it into the man's heart, nor were there any surprises when he took over, cleaning up the mess his father left behind.

The man was unhinged, without a conscience, and you would have to be a fool to go against Oleksandr. But Arseniy did, and I sometimes had a feeling that he bit off more than he could chew. But we didn't talk about it. We also didn't speak about the fact that Arseniy didn't talk, or well, at least I never heard him talk. I had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that his own father tried to kill him when he was just twelve years old, slicing over his throat with a kitchen knife because Arseniy dared to say no.

That incident left him with damaged vocal cords and a whole array of other issues that we, again, never discussed. But we all had an understanding—we wouldn't talk about the things that bothered us, unless they fucked with our everyday operations. And so far it worked.

So far.

---