12. Chapter 12 Kamilla
Chapter 12: Kamilla
W e were at war. Bullets whizzed through the air mixed with the sound of shouted orders and pained screams. This is what we had planned for. I was taking my rightful place. My throne, my fucking birthright. Beside me, Seamus was a force of nature and watching him fight make me hot in ways that had nothing to do with the adrenaline pumping through my body.
We fought our way through the compound, the Irish and the Italians at our backs, a united front for once. Aria was deadly with her knife and Liam, that man was a machine. Seamus had told me he had trained Liam, so knew he was the right person to be beside Aria, but seeing him in action was poetry. A terminator in a tailored suit, mowing down anyone who dared to stand Aria’s way. The two of them moved like extensions of each other, anticipating each other's every move.
Finally, I saw him. Piotr. I owed him some pain. He was barricaded in his office like the coward he was, surrounded by his most loyal men. We cut through them until it was just me and him, face to face at last, with nothing and no one left to stand between us. Seamus, Aria, Liam, Cara and Finn circled us, but stood back, knowing this was my fight. If I was ever to be respected as their Russian queen, I had to be the one to kill Piotr.
"Kamilla," he sneered, his lip curling in a mockery of a smile. "You always were a pathetic little bitch, so eager to spread your legs for anyone. Even the Irish."
I laughed, the sound cold and harsh in the sudden silence. "Oh, Piotr. Still trying to use your dick as a weapon, even when we both know it's ineffective. Tell me, how does it feel to know that even your whores have to fake it, just to get you off and out of their hair?"
He snarled, his eyes flashing with rage and humiliation. "You fucking cunt. Do you need another lesson on what a real man can do.”
I smiled, slow and vicious. "You'll have to touch me first, you flaccid sack of shit. And I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly in a touchy-feely mood."
He lunged for me, flying from his lips. I was ready for him, as I dodged his wild grab, using his own momentum to send him stumbling past me. Then, while his back was turned, I launched myself at him and slammed him to the ground. He was strong, I'd give him that, with a wiry kind of strength that belied his weaselly frame. Seamus had made me stronger, that and I was fueled by rage and pain. I had a reason to win, beyond just my own selfish desires and petty ambitions.
I had a fucking kingdom to claim.
With a final, wrenching twist, I heard a crack as his arm broke. I smiled when I felt the bone snap beneath my hands, heard his scream of agony. As he lay there mewling and clutching at his ruined limb, I clambered to my feet and stood over him like the fucking queen I was.
"It's over, Piotr," I said. "The Bratva is mine now, mine to rule and mine to rebuild.”
He spat at my feet, his face twisted with hate "Fuck you, you crazy bitch. You think you've won? You think you can lead these men. You're fucking delusional."
I laughed again. "Oh, I don't think, Piotr. I know. Because unlike you, I'm not afraid of the monsters in the dark. I am the monster now. And I will use that reputation to rebuild the Bratva in my own image.”
I leaned down. "I will make it great again, Piotr. A force to be reckoned with, respected and feared in equal measure.”
I straightened, turning my back on his pathetic form.
Aria stepped forward. "Liam, be a dear and escort this piece of trash to the holding cells. I want him alive for the trials, to serve as an example to anyone else who might harbor thoughts of betrayal."
“Thank you Liam,” I said, knowing Aria was right in roving him from my sight before I really did kill him.
Liam nodded, his eyes glinting with a kind of feral approval. "With pleasure, Queen Kamilla."
I smiled, the title settling over me. I turned to the others. Seamus was there waiting for me, his eyes shining with a possessive joy that made my knees weak. He caught me up in his arms, and claimed my mouth in a kiss that flooded heat to my core.
"My queen," he rasped against my lips, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing close to mine. "My fucking queen, what I’d like to do to you know.”
I shivered, heat and want and the delicious ache of the memory. "Keep talking like that and I might just demand you get on your knees before the Russian Queen.”
He growled, low and deep in his chest, his hands tightening on my hips. "Is that a promise, my queen?"
I grinned. "Oh, it's more than a promise, Seamus. I can't think of any better way to celebrate.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Your wish is my command, your majesty. Your wish is my fucking command." Then he was sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me away from the crowd, away from the chaos and the carnage. A place I was hoping we had carved out for both of us.