Chapter 10
RORI
Coming face-to-face with a wolf has my heart melting, even though I’m careful to keep my expression cold and distant.
Shit, it’s magnificent. Tall, gangly-legged, and pure black in color, it reminds me so much of Hades, even down to the gold chain around its neck as a collar.
Those snarling teeth remind me of him, too, and I have to bite back a sad smile.
Damn it, I miss Hades. Though I don’t know that he would win against this animal if it were to attack. Something tells me that this wolf will tear anything apart the moment it’s allowed to have freedom.
A healthy amount of respect fills me. I don’t want to be on its list. The question is, does the wolf answer to all of the Romanovs and this man, or just the man?
I force my eyes away from the magnificent beast to focus on the man watching me with a cool and distant expression of his own.
He’s an inch shorter than Ilya’s six-three frame, with lean muscle much like his charge, but he is covered head to toe in tattoos and has no facial hair, unlike the Romanov brothers.
His face is far more angular and sharper, his eyes dark and sharp, taking everything in with a glance.
On his tattooed hands are thick rings on each finger, and around his neck is a thick gold chain.
This man lives and breathes the Bratva. Everything about him tells me he is not someone who is easily manipulated.
“Did you get her?” Ilya snaps at the man, shoving his coat at a waiting butler impatiently.
The man gives a small shake of his head, his eyes never leaving me. I hold his stare, refusing to let him think I’m nervous. Confused, hell yes, but I’m long past fear.
Ilya lets out an angry snarl before turning to pin me with a cold, hard look. “We’re going to get this shit ironed out, and then I have business to attend to.”
“Sounds like you have a problem with a woman. And here I thought your charming personality would be enough to have them falling at your feet, Romanov.” I can’t help the sass that falls from my mouth, even as reckless as it is.
Ilya Romanov is a Pakhan, and he’s in his every right to punish me for it.
Zakhar snorts out a laugh. “Fuck, you’re going to be fun to have around. You remind me a little of—”
“Don’t,” Ilya snaps, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fury that sets my nerves on edge.
Zakhar must realize that he’s stepped in it, because he shuts up quickly, glancing at the new man with a look I can’t quite decipher.
Huh. I wonder who the hell they’re talking about. Color me intrigued.
“As entertaining as this is, perhaps we can get back to why the hell you’ve brought me here.” I pour cool steel into my tone.
Before Ilya can respond, the new man demands in Russian, “This is the Chameleon? No fucking way.”
“No, she’s not, but she is the closest we have to getting the job done that we need and the closest thing to catching him. Now, where is our other guest?”
Other guest?
“He’s running late. He’ll be here shortly.”
Ilya’s face flashes with annoyance. He mutters something sharp and angry under his breath, but I can’t quite catch it.
“Let’s go. We have shit to figure out and I don’t have all fucking day.
” He stalks past the grand staircase leading to the second floor, heading down a hallway toward the back of the house.
Zakhar nudges me forward, and I shoot him a warning glare over my shoulder, which he ignores with an amused grin. I follow, my senses on high alert, braced for anything.
Especially with the wolf at my back, its chain collar rattling with each step to let me know where it is. The hallway is long, but we finally reach the end, where we find two double doors open and Ilya taking his place behind his desk.
The room is deceptively warm in appearance with dark wood floors, an opulent decorative ceiling and luxury leather seating, but it does nothing to hide the danger in this room.
The well-placed lighting to cast the room in shadows in just the right spots, the floor-to-ceiling windows directly behind Ilya’s desk that overlook the frosted mountain peaks and black skies.
Perfectly placed furniture to ensure no one catches them by surprise.
They’ve thought of everything. Mostly. I already see a few flaws, but I’ll keep those to myself.
“Sit,” Ilya orders, pointing to one of the chairs to the right of the desk. Closest to a rounded table where he must meet with his men when needed. It’s also directly out of sight of the windows and near some of the curtains. Is he trying to hide that I’m here?
I almost want to snort. Who the fuck would ever think to look for me here?
I settle into the chair, sinking into the leather, instead of perching on the edge of the seat like I want to do. Let them think that I’m unfazed by it all. I need to know what the hell the plan is before I make any moves.
Never make decisions based on emotions. It will get you killed.
My father’s words echo in my head, and I push them out. The last thing I want is to listen to his bullshit. I’ve worked too damn hard to keep him out for the past decade.
Zakhar takes a seat across from me on the left of Ilya’s desk, while the new one—I really hope someone is going to give me his name soon—and his wolf stay by the door, on guard. The wolf is watching me, alert and ready to move.
“I want guards around the house, alternating rotations in case anyone gets any wise ideas,” Ilya orders the man by the door.
“He’s worried I’m going to try and escape,” I supply to them helpfully with a smirk.
“Why haven’t you tried to escape yet?” Zakhar asks curiously, brow arching. “It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity.”
“Because she’s the one sent from the Chameleon,” Ilya states curtly. “He’s insisted that she’s going to be the best option for the job.”
Do they think that I work for Tatiana? The one they keep calling a man?
These stupid, stupid men. I’m going to enjoy taking them down a few pegs, but not yet. I need to bide my time for now. Figure out the logistics of whatever they are planning first.
“Yeah, that fucker’s nuts,” Zakhar agrees with a slight shiver. “I’ve seen the shit they do. Did you see the way they gutted that French diplomat a few months back?”
“I thought they hadn’t claimed responsibility for that?” the man by the door interjects with a frown. “Didn’t the Italians take credit for that one? Something about him trying to double-cross one of their Dons?”
“Intel suggests that that was a cover story to ensure that no one knew who actually did it, but the Chameleon has no allegiance to the Russians alone; there are a lot of rumors and whisperings.” Zakhar looks back at me thoughtfully. “Anything you’d like to share, krasotka?”
I give him nothing, just stare at him. Let him think what he wants. The more they talk, the more they reveal, and the more I can use.
And wouldn’t Tatiana laugh if she heard all this shit? When she kills someone, no one will know it was her. She won’t leave a signature or a way to trace it back to her. Whoever did that bad a job, well, Tatiana has probably already disposed of them.
“Oleg, see to it that we’re not disturbed and send him back when his disrespectful ass gets here,” Ilya snaps at the man by the door.
At least I have a name to go by now.
Oleg doesn’t look surprised at the order. Instead, he asks, “Freya?”
“Leave her. Ms. Antonova has experience with dogs, so I’m sure it won’t bother her.” His tone is mocking. I don’t react to his use of my birth name. If he’s trying to get a rise out of me, he’s going to have to do better than that.
Oleg nods, muttering a command that I can’t quite make out from this distance, before leaving the room, the door shutting with a soft click. The wolf lies down in front of the door, eyes alert, even as her tongue lolls.
I look back at Ilya, seeing him watching me intently.
I give him a dry smile. “Is that supposed to be a threat or a scare tactic? We really need to work on your approach at those, Romanov. Now, I’m done waiting for an explanation, so I suggest you get talking.
The more I think about this insane plan, the more I want to just kill myself before I have to put myself through the annoyance of dying a slow, painful death in the end. ”
His eyes flash at the mention of my death, and he gets to his feet. “Is that your plan, Ms. O’Brien? You’re going to just kill yourself before you—”
“Christ, would you sit the fuck down and not let her bait you?” Zakhar snaps, getting to his own feet and glaring at his brother. “What the fuck is wrong with you today? You’re normally smarter than this. Is she getting to your head that much?”
Ilya’s temper flares, darkening his cheeks.
Poking the bear, I give him a smug smile, making his fists clench tight at his sides. “Whoever this woman is, she must be something to have you so worked up. First, she calls the cops on you, and now she’s messing with your head this bad? I’m impressed.”
Instead of answering that, he snaps, “The only thing that you need to be thinking about is how you’re going to pull off this job that we’ve given you. I have no time for bullshit mistakes, and your life depends on it.”
“Yes, you’ve said that already, and like I’ve said already, this entire plan is stupid.
You really think that they don’t expect me to try and take them out?
My father has been planning for that day ever since I was handed over to Timur to marry Mishka.
Timur, maybe I could get away with it, but he also has to know that I’m not going to be happy to be back under his thumb.
Hell, he probably expects me to off myself before I even get there to avoid the hassle. ”
“Instructions that we’ve intercepted were that you were never to be harmed and to ensure that you didn’t do any harm to yourself.”
“That job is to be left to the men who want to teach you a lesson,” Ilya adds with a pointed stare.
Yes, lesson. My father’s favorite thing. I had plenty of those growing up.
“Oh my God, shut up both of you,” I snap, my irritation making my voice sharp, shoving to my feet. “I don’t care that they said not to hurt me before I got there. I care that this entire plan isn’t going to work, and I still don’t know why you want me to do it.”
“You don’t need a reason. All you need to know is that if you don’t get the job done, you’ll be dead. Either at their hands or mine.”
I want to roll my eyes. This whole situation is bullshit.
“If you want me to walk into this and just outright get the job done, then you better start talking, Romanov. I’m getting really fucking tired of being jerked around.
I have already lost the life that I had, I’ve lied and betrayed my friends and people that matter to me, and I’ve lost my dog.
So one of you start fucking talking or I’ll show you exactly what my father taught me. ”
I expect one of them to react to my threat, but they just watch me, unconcerned. Do they really think that the wolf, Freya, will get to me before I get to them? Maybe, but I can take out one, possibly both, before she takes me out.
“Perhaps I can answer that.”
The new voice that comes from the doorway that has opened without my noticing pisses me off, but it also shocks me. Or rather, the voice itself shocks me. I know that voice.
I slowly turn my head, careful not to give Ilya or Zakhar my back, to stare at the man walking toward me.
Tall, with a handsome face, with not an inch of facial hair.
His eyes are a sharp green, his jawline sharp and cheekbones high, and his hair is combed to one side, with the sides of his head shaved down.
Tattoos peak out above the collar of his black dress shirt, stopping just short of his jawline.
A definitely new tattoo that wasn’t there the last time I saw him. Hell, he wasn’t this filled out either. Trepidation fills me, but the pieces quickly fit into place.
“Hello, Reyea,” he says as the door shuts behind him, Freya slipping out to be with Oleg, who is probably guarding the door. “Or should I call you my fiancée now?”
My eyes narrow, the only change in my expression I allow to show. “Hello, Simeon.”
Fuck, this is the last thing I expected or need. This situation just got a whole lot more dangerous. Is he here to kill me, or take me back to Timur and my father himself?