Chapter 32
I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
After all, getting sold out by one of your own is pretty rough. According to reports from agents hidden throughout Russia, Ivan Volkov turned his back on her a long time ago when he didn’t support her takeover. Having Elio reach out to him was a risk that ended up working out because his abhorrence over Vanessa’s leadership beat out the war between us, and it all went perfectly.
Of course, it’s also due to the promise I made to leave him and his son—the remaining Volkovs after Vanessa goes—alive. That was a lie the moron fell for, and helped us walk right through the front door undetected.
My broken queen is completely listless, slumped in the firm grip of one of my men. She might be standing upright, might be claiming to be unbroken, but the pain of betrayal is there in her dead gaze and lowered shoulders. Shame it didn’t take that much to wreck her, but this does make it easier. A shattered leader is a useless leader.
I turn away from her and exit the mansion once more. “Move out,” I command in a low voice meant for Elio. “We’re done here.”
Ivan’s a complete idiota for interrupting us. Had he left well enough alone and not seen my alternate plan as going against our deal, Vanessa wouldn’t be aware of his betrayal. Which means, this is about to get messy for the Bratva. All reports lead back to Ivan being on the opposite side of her Elite, including his own son, which means he’s just made an enemy out of all them, and they won’t rest quietly.
Getting Vanessa back to Italy sooner than later and finalizing my revised idea is now a must.
I’m not sure she’s mentally present still as her empty gaze passes unblinkingly over the mansion’s floor. I’ll admit, seeing a Volkov like this is fucking thrilling, especially after years and years of being evaded and robbed. Vanessa may not be her father, but they share the same eyes, so I’m able to imagine Ursin in her place, same shattered gaze. Reminds me of when I was left alone to watch my father’s blood stain the floor. It took many hours before I moved, all for wave after wave of grief, agony, and hatred to overwhelm me.
Elio comes up behind me, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Ivan wouldn’t be the wiser if we turned on him now.”
“Ivan’s not really my concern at the moment.” He doesn’t have the support he once did because, for better or worse, Vanessa became an actual good Pakhan and the Bratva employees respect her. If her Elite does what she commanded, they won’t allow Ivan’s grubby hands to claim leadership. Not that he’s even aware of that. And it’s something I wasn’t letting him know. His support meant one less barrier and now he believes he’s made an ally out of an old enemy.
It’s simply good business on my part.
With a crook of my hand, I gesture everyone out of the mansion and lead the charge across the Bratva’s property and through the thickening trees, toward the few Hummer SUVs hidden and waiting. They brought the soldiers who attacked and rescued me here, and they’ll take Volkov and me to the private plane lying in wait on an elderly couple’s property. They were paid heavily for their silence and the use of their lands.
Vanessa gets loaded into one SUV, a soldier sliding in on either side of her. I wait for them to shut the door before climbing into the passenger seat and order the driver to begin moving. Silently, he does, and I peek over my shoulder at Vanessa’s glare.
“You’re alive,” I state with a small shrug. “You should be thanking me.”
“Oh, I’ll thank you. With a fucking knife to your back.”
“Testy.”
The sun is shining at just an angle there’s a glow in my eyes so I flip down the visor to block it. The reflection catches Vanessa glaring at the back of my head.
I spend more time on the trip watching her than I care to admit.
Once inside the plane, I immediately head to the back and settle into a seat while Vanessa’s hauled along behind me. Given the number of men not here who should be, there will be a few empty seats on the return flight. It makes the satisfaction less because they were good men following my commands, whose bodies will never be returned to their families.
The deathly look in Vanessa’s eyes as she’s dragged up the plane tells me she’s planning something big. Something that, no doubt, involves a lot of my spilled blood. Soon, she’ll come to see there’s one villain in all this, and it was the man she referred to as Papa.
Once she’s dropped on the leather couch beside me, a second soldier comes up behind with cuffs and slaps them on her wrists, robbing a bit more of her power. Once the cuffs are tightened, I wave them both away to their seats.
She stares at the metal before jerking her gaze to me, her nose lifted in a sneer as she angles away and leans against the padded armrest behind her. “Fucking serious? All this space...” She nods to the empty couch across from us. “And I’m stuck beside you ?”
“I’m keeping you nice and close. As if you’d do anything else in my position.”
“Careful how close you end up getting,” she mutters in a low, warning tone that all but begs me to respond.
Instead, though, the buzzing of my cell distracts me and I pull it out from my pocket, using it to pretend to ignore Vanessa. Pretend, because I’m learning that actually ignoring her is impossible. How does one ignore the sun rays beaming in their face, or the sting of a bug? That’s what Vanessa’s becoming. A bug with a shiny glow that demands my attention.
Thankfully, my underboss and longest friend, Nero, gives me something else to focus on.
Nero
When do I get to learn you’re still alive?
Me
Right now. We’ll be back soon.
Nero
You’ve left me in the dark, dick. Did you knock off only the one, or get the brother and his son too?
With an amused huff, I imagine his next response when he sees the picture I’m readying to send him. With a slight re-angling of my phone, I catch Vanessa and all her loathing in a single snapshot.
Nero
Cazzo! Z, what the hell, man? This isn’t like you. Not after everything.
He’s not wrong.
Me
Dead, my revenge ends. Alive, it continues. We’ll talk more when I get there.
I peek to the side, making sure she’s not reading my messages. Not that they give much away, but at this time, she doesn’t need to be aware of her future.
Nero
…You’re concerning me.
Me
The Volkov legacy ends one way or another. Trust me. I’ll explain in person.
Nero
Fine. Well, while you’ve been away on your revenge campaign, Serafina caused trouble again.
I curse aloud, picturing the eighteen-year-old menace. She’s impossible to keep tabs of, and one more incident away of me sticking a bodyguard on her to make sure she stays the hell out of trouble, even if it’s something I initially agreed to never do.
Me
Do I want to know?
Nero
Gabriella called in the middle of last night when she didn’t return home at the time she was supposed to. She’s fine now, don’t worry. Guess she went to some house party and “forgot” to leave. I found her passed out on a lounge chair by the pool. Clothes were intact and she seemed okay enough. One of her friends was on the chair beside her, semi-functioning, and said they had one too many. Got them home, calmed your mother down, and left.
Thank fuck for Nero, one of a few people trusted with Serafina. As my childhood friend, he’s been by my side through everything occurring between us and the Bratva, dating back long before we were in charge of the Cosa Nostra. The trust I have for the man who’s like my brother is the main reason I was able to leave Rome at all and go Volkov hunting.
“Serafina seems like too much to handle.”
Damn Vanessa leaned forward at some point and read my texts, but being lost in thought about Serafina, I wasn’t paying attention. She’s leaning into me, her arm a breath from mine, head tilted as she reads.
Scowling, I turn my screen away, even though it’s too late. It’s bad for Vanessa to know about Serafina right now. Like worlds are colliding, even though it’d be inevitable soon. The churning in my stomach, my sudden dry throat, the tingling sensation running down my spine all make me wish there was a way to wipe Vanessa’s memories from her pretty, little head.
Thankfully, the plane’s door shuts as everyone finishes settling in, and the jets flick on, the whirling rumble a lulling sound to focus on rather than the woman beside me.
Before sliding my phone away, I shoot Nero one final text:
Me
Thank you. Vanessa’s getting nosy and plane’s about to take off. We’ll talk when I’m back.
“Nosy,” she scoffs. “Not my fault you’re the moron who openly texts beside me.”
“Shut up,” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest and tipping my head back against the leather. It’s going to be a long fucking trip. “Look out the window or something.”
She’s actually silent as the plane picks up speed and tips into the sky. She settles into her spot, staring at her cuffed hands before bringing her legs up and twisting her body until she’s facing me rather than forward.
Although my eyes remain shut, I can feel her gaze on my face. It’s strange to have someone flay me open like she can because no one else in the world has that power. The ability and knowledge to get beneath my skin.
After a couple moments in the sky, she speaks. “Who’s Alessandro Vitale if you’re the head?”
His name, the name of one of the other capos, was a surprise. It does suggest Vanessa researched about each criminal organization known when taking over, but she clearly didn’t look deep enough to know the Vitales are merely one of five mob families the Cosa Nostra is made up of: us, the Vitales, Costas, Accardis, and Santoros.
I chuckle, keeping my eyes shut. “You have much to learn, Miss Volkov. I’m tired, though, so now isn’t the time.”
She huffs, mumbling something beneath her breath, and goes silent again. Another few minutes passes before her next question comes. The way she rushes it out tells me she’s been mulling it over for a while. “If the war between our families has been going on for years, was the part you said about my father true too? That he did something to spark this.”
I lift my head and open my eyes, unable to ignore the urge to look at her now. With it, the rest of the plane fades away. I search her hopeful expression—the lowered brows, the dab her tongue makes against her bottom lip. Almost like she’s wanting her father to be at fault here.
“Every word was true.”
A flash of blood.
Madre screaming.
Holding Padre’s corpse.
I blink, pulling from the consuming past. “Yeah,” I murmur, hating how the quick, vivid flashes of memories jolt me so strongly. “Yeah, he did something. But this doesn’t surprise you.” It’s a statement, not a question, as another memory returns. One where she agreed to knowing he wasn’t a good person. “I’m sure living with Ursin Volkov had its challenges.” I don’t mean for my voice to soften how it does. To indicate any sympathy.
She snorts and looks down the stretch of the plane at everyone else. “You could say that.”
“What’d he do to you?”
Rolling her eyes, she readjusts her body in the cushions, pulling her legs even tighter to her. “Like it matters.”
I shrug to downplay my curiosity when really, it’s taking over my focus. “Was it because your father pushed you onto Erico Rossi because he was so terrified of us, or something else entirely?”
She stills. “How do you know about Rossi?”
“I know a lot. Your father wanted a North American ally and used you to get it. But Rossi was already married and never entertained the wife switch. That correct?” It is, but I give her the benefit of the doubt.
Her chin lifts as she stares past me. “Rossi would have been wrong for me, and I didn’t want the union either. It was a mutual agreement between him and me.”
I’m sure. Instead I only smirk and make no additional comment on her obvious determination to mask the truth. She didn’t want the alliance, nor did he, but there was more to Ursin’s actions than she’s letting on because he wasn’t one to listen to her desires when they didn’t align with his own. More so, he definitely wouldn’t have stopped trying to build his defence.
“Erico Rossi did me a favour by murdering my father. Maybe that’s heartless to admit, but his attempt to shove me into an empty marriage was actually one of the nicer things he ever did.” She huffs, smirking down at her hands. “His death paved the way for me to become someone other than some silly princess. A doll for his manipulation. Erico freed me, and while I hate him for killing my papa, the man who despite fucking everything, I do— did —love in some meager fraction, he has my gratitude as well. With Papa gone, I became Pakhan, not out of necessity but desire. I fought my way to the role.” Her eyes flash up, tightening in the corners. “So whatever he did to your family, I get it. But if you think I’ll quietly accept the punishment intended for him, then you’re a fucking idiot.”
Well, well. Look who threw away her crown and found a dagger instead.