Chapter 49
Dimitri’s the first to obey, and also the first to react to my presence. He doesn’t bother hiding his thoughts when relief breaks across his expression as I walk down the stairs and stride by Zeno, Nero, and Serafina on their knees.
“You’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, reaching his side, glancing toward Anastasia and Lev as well. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Dimitri reaches into his thigh holster and unlocks a second gun, pressing it into my waiting hand. Instantly, I’m eased with the welcoming weight of protection.
With the gun loose by my side, I turn toward Zeno, ready to end this once and for all. No more warring. No more hatred between our organizations because it ends today.
Zeno doesn’t wait for me to react before pushing to his feet, positioning himself in front of me. Movement comes from my soldiers behind me as they all angle their guns toward him, but a quick gesture of my hand lowers them. The last thing I need is for one of them to accidentally shoot.
He angles himself in front of Serafina, exactly as I’d expect him to, with a pleading expression. But she’s in no danger from me or anyone else in this room.
Despite everything Zeno did, everything I promised I’d do when my Elite arrived…I can’t. Not after hearing his reasoning, not after meeting Serafina. There’s one enemy here, and it’s neither Zeno nor me.
It’s Papa. And he’s long dead and gone, which means, this war needs to be as well.
“Vanessa. Please.”
It’s packed in that single word I know what he’s actually asking. Please leave Serafina alone.
I turn my head slightly, catching Dimitri in my peripheral vision to murmur, “We’re done here. Move out.”
His jaw drops slack, glancing meaningfully at our captives. “You sure?”
“Da.”
There’s nothing more to do here. Nothing I want to do. The fighting must stop, and one side has to be the first to concede.
Dimitri orders everyone out and they exit the villa in formation. Lev trails behind them, and then Dimitri. Anastasia’s the only person who doesn’t listen, lingering as she watches me.
“Shut the door behind you when you go please.” My command is meant to say what I haven’t: Please leave.
“Vanessa—”
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“Fine.” She twirls her gun in her hand and slides it into the holster on her hip, her gaze passing over the line of three. She pauses on Nero for a moment before twisting with her ballerina-like grace and flouncing out the door.
Once I’m alone with Zeno and his family, I follow the constant barking to the closet. Venus darts out when I open the door and pushes her head into my waiting hand before rejoining her mistress, rubbing against Serafina.
Zeno commands something in Italian, and the dog slugs away to the corner, her guarded, beady eyes studying the room while her nose lifts high, scenting the intruders.
“How’d they find us?” he asks, attention coming back to me. His stance has relaxed slightly, his arms returning to his side, but he remains in front of Serafina.
“We’re all equipped with trackers.”
His mouth twists into a sick, amused grin. “Which is why you never fought back. This entire time, you knew they’d be coming.”
“Not my fault you underestimated me. Learn from that error.” With that parting statement, I tuck the gun in my waistband beside the marriage certificate and turn toward the exit.
“I’ve never underestimated you, Vanessa,” he calls out, stopping me in my tracks. “You have no reason to trust or believe me, but what I told you in my room was true. I changed my plans for you because of you.”
Lies. More fucking lies because that’s all this man does. I’ll never believe another word from his mouth. It was the ultimate lesson in all this. A lesson Papa’s treatment taught me early on, and Ivan reinforced.
To trust means being vulnerable.
I manage another step before he speaks again, this time with a question I’m compelled to answer. “Still, you don’t kill me?”
When I turn, it’s not to focus on him but rather Serafina. “There’s been enough pain and bloodshed between our organizations. From the beginning, I’ve vowed not to be the kind of person my papa was, and this is me keeping that promise. So, Zeno,” I blink, gaze returning to him, “this ends now. You’ve made your point, and I made mine. We’re even. Cross me again and I won’t be so kind.”
He takes another step, reaching a hand out as though to stop me. “We’re married, and like it or not, it’s a binding contract both the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva will expect us to uphold.”
I am the Bratva and the farce of a document in my back pocket is anything but legally binding.
It’s painful. Not even because it represents one of the things I want least in life, but because of how Zeno acquired it, and the means he took to lull me into a false sense of security. I knew from the second he brought me outside, he was messing with me, but as the time passed, I hoped he was genuine. But no. He dropped the metaphorical hammer and was a disappointment, just like so many in my past have been. People only ever have one goal, and it’s to put themselves ahead. Zeno is no different.
“The Bratva will believe what I tell them,” I finally push out a reply to his latest point.
He mirrors my next step toward the door. “From here on out, our organizations are linked.”
“That means nothing.”
It means everything. Even if the Bratva is no longer packed with the same old, traditional assholes that were around when Papa was in charge, there’s many who’ll want me to uphold this. A connection to such a vast and powerful organization would be useful. It’ll ease the minds of those wondering when an heir will be arriving.
With my next attempt at leaving, Zeno allows me to make it to the door and open it. Fresh afternoon sunlight peeks into the villa behind me, the sunlight blinding. It’s like a kick in the gut, reminding me of our run this morning. Despite my earlier thoughts about the beauty of Zeno’s property, I suddenly long for the privacy of my lands.
With one foot over the doorway, Zeno’s final statement floats toward me. It’s a threat, a promise, and also a vow that I’ll ignore.
“For better or worse, we’re connected, Vanessa Mancini. You can try to run from this, but I refuse to lose.”
Vanessa Mancini. Never. I’m a Volkov through and through.
Goodbye, Zeno.
I shut the door behind me.
Two hours later, his parting words continue to echo through my head.
Given his abhorrence toward my family, his determination to stay wed makes zero sense, so it’s likely yet another one of his games. But I’ve won this round, so hopefully he leaves me alone.
We pile onto my plane. The moment we’re settled into the couches at the end, Anastasia beside me, Lev and Dimitri across from us, I pull out the marriage certificate and toss it toward Lev with a simple demand.
“Make this go away. Anyway, anyhow, I don’t care.”
The jets whirl to life, which helps mask the conversations from the soldiers at the front of the plane. No need for them to overhear.
Anastasia leans across the aisle to peek at what I’ve given her brother, and Dimitri’s eyes look like they’re halfway out of his skull.
“ Yebat'! Vanessa!” Lev exclaims.
“This couldn’t have been willing,” Dimitri states, watching me expectantly.
Anastasia jabs a long, manicured nail toward my signature. “You signed it.”
I sigh, leaning back into the padded leather couch. “They faked my signature. Which is why I need your help, Lev. Mancini’s claiming it’s legal.”
Lev glances up, an apology twisting his mouth, but his tone doesn’t imply confidence. “I’ll try, but others will have to know about this. Like our lawyers.”
Figured it wouldn’t be a technical issue he could delete as easily as camera footage.
Anastasia returns to the couch beside me, crossing her legs. “I have so many questions. One being, how that even came to be.”
“Long story.” And one I don’t want to recount right now, even though I doubt they’ll let me avoid the questions for much longer. For now, I look toward my cousin. “You were told about your father’s betrayal?”
His expression darkens, his chin dropping a fraction. “Yes, but leave Ivan to me. His death is mine, and I’ll be sure he gets what’s owed for the part he played in all this.”
“What happened after I left?” This I ask Anastasia.
She drums her fingers along her knee as she speaks. “Once you were taken, he began shouting orders and claiming he’d be taking over as Pakhan because you ‘were basically dead already,’ but everyone ignored him. The soldiers looked to us,” she nods toward her brother, “for direction and we got your uncle off the property. He returned of course, but once Dimitri arrived, he took off again, and we haven’t heard from him since. Assume he’s lying low.”
“He’s hiding,” Dimitri says with absolute conviction. “Looking for him wasn’t as important as getting you out, but once we’re home, I’ll make it my focus.”
I scan down the plane toward the soldiers. Some chat amongst each other, others have their head tipped back or are leaning on the small, round windows, napping. They all stuck by me, even when I was taken.
Papa always quoted loyalty. To be a good leader is to have loyal followers.
Lev follows my gaze. “They volunteered for this mission.”
“Give them all raises.”
In a burst of anxious energy, Anastasia snaps and leans across the aisle to snatch the marriage certificate from her brother’s hands and shakes it in front of my face. “’Kay, no, you’re not getting out of this. How does one go from being kidnapped to being married within a matter of two days?”
The story might not be one I wish to tell, but I have to. Papa’s treachery must be known by my Elite, so we’re all on the same page. So they understand why we were attacked, and should Zeno decide a repeat performance is needed, why he detests us.
And that, by biology’s sake, there is another Volkov walking this earth.
My grip tightens around the padded armrest, my nails digging into the leather. A heavy breath that does nothing to ease me works through my lungs.
“Turns out, the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva’s been at war for a long time. Even before Papa was Pakhan, and Zeno’s father commanded the Italians. It was a war they inherited and…”