Chapter 18
She’s never really had female friends before, so she’d been taken aback by how open they were with each other.
They’d gossiped, talked through their problems, and shared stories from the bedroom that had made even Ulayna blush to hear.
And they’d done it all with a shared sense of joy and camaraderie.
It had been… fun. But it had also made her sad because she realized how much she had missed out on.
It wasn’t just experiences like going to the beach and eating ice cream that the Program took from her; it was the opportunity to have close relationships.
To have people in her life who care about her and genuinely want what’s best for her.
The opportunity to share herself with others and for them to know her, the real her.
But she’ll be damned if she’s going to let the Program keep that from her. She’s learned to fight and protect herself, she’s reclaimed her body and her sexuality, and now, she’s going to fight for the people in her life. And that includes her new friends and Alexi.
Because that’s the other thing she can’t stop thinking about. The Bratva doesn’t allow women in their organization, and no woman has ever shared leadership with a pakhan. But why not?
Her friends’ words from brunch ring in her mind. Antiquated bullshit… Show the boy’s club what a woman can do.
Alexi accepts her. Even if it still makes her heart flutter painfully in her chest, that much is obvious.
They haven’t said the L-word yet, but they don’t need to.
And Alexi hasn’t mentioned marriage again.
But she doesn’t need that either. Marriage is just a silly piece of paper.
It’s a contract, and it doesn’t guarantee respect from Alexi’s men or prove that she’s earned the right to be by his side.
But if she’s going to break that glass ceiling, she needs to do it carefully. More than anyone, she knows that you don’t demand respect from the Bratva—you earn it.
And there’s one thing she hasn’t been able to do yet that might just earn her some respect—get Hawk’s ring. If she can do that, it might just crack that glass ceiling she’s growing to resent more and more.
Ulayna throws back the covers and hops out of bed.
She should probably take the time to think this through, but she’s tired of that approach.
Every time she’s tried to sneak up on Hawk, she’s failed.
He’s expecting her to use stealth and booby-traps to catch him off guard. It’s time she tries a new tactic.
Now, she’s going to approach him as herself.
Not like some spider in the dark or a femme fatale, and not pretending to be someone she’s not.
She’s going to show him—and hopefully, the rest of Alexi’s men—that she’s powerful and capable, just as she is.
She’s going to prove to them they can underestimate her, but only at their own detriment.
She pulls on her favorite pair of jeans, butter soft and hip-hugging, and a light-blue sweater that brings out her eyes.
She pairs her casual but feminine outfit with her favorite Converse and twists her long blond hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.
She secures her hair with the hairpin given to her by Phoenix.
As a precaution, she straps a thin blade to her ankle and another to the small of her back.
She takes a few seconds to look herself over. Without makeup on, she looks young and fragile. She nods to her reflection. It’s time she showed everyone that looks can be deceiving. She may be young, but she’s anything but delicate.
Before she can talk herself out of it, she walks out of her bedroom and heads for the bunkhouse. She keeps her steps measured and unhurried, her heartbeat steady.
She pushes the front door of the bunkhouse open, stepping over the squeaky board out of habit, and strides across the open living space.
Several men lounge on the couch or sleepily sip coffee at the long dining table to the side of the room.
As she passes, their heads lift, and she can see curiosity in their gazes.
But she doesn’t stop to explain herself or justify why she’s here.
She strides past them, ignoring them and owning her space.
With her chin high, she walks up the stairs toward the bedrooms. There’s a Bratva soldier already moving down the stairs, but she refuses to make way for him. She keeps stepping up. When he finally notices her, she holds his gaze. Not challenging, just steady.
Almost without realizing it, he tips his head down and steps to the side so she can pass. But she doesn’t miss the feel of his gaze on her back or the fact that he doesn’t continue down the stairs.
She forces him and the other men from her mind as she focuses on her task.
Carefully, she counts the doorways down the hall. Finding the correct room, based on the intel she got from Mikhail, she faces the door.
She takes one deep breath to center herself, then kicks it in.
Knowing Hawk will react instantly and aggressively to an intruder, she dives low and rolls inside.
A shot rings out, just inches from her head, but she doesn't stop. She uses her momentum to spring forward. In the same movement, she yanks the knife from her belt and throws it straight for Hawk’s heart.
He’s sitting up in bed, hair mussed from sleep, his eyes blazing with intensity, and there’s a gun in his hand.
His eyes widen in shock as her knife leaves her hand, and he curses as he throws himself to the side to avoid a direct hit.
Her knife snicks past Hawk, grazing his arm, before it hits the wooden headboard and embeds with a thud, the hilt quivering with an audible twang.
Ulayna doesn’t hesitate. Taking advantage of Hawk’s surprise and the fact that he had to throw himself sideways to avoid her knife, she’s on him in a heartbeat.
As she lunges for him, Hawk’s fist shoots out, aiming for her face. But she blocks it easily, grateful for the instincts that Bill and Phoenix have ingrained in her.
He’s in an awkward position, and his legs are tangled in his sheets, seriously hindering his movements.
She uses that to her advantage and grabs his arm, yanking it behind him.
She pulls up, straining his shoulder joint.
But she knows that won’t be enough to get him to submit.
Even if she were to dislocate his shoulder, he’d just use his other hand to take her down.
Before that can happen, Ulayna pulls the hairpin from her hair and presses it firmly to his throat. A single drop of blood forms on his skin as the sharp point nicks him.
Ulayna pulls his arm higher in warning. “Don’t move or I might nick your jugular,” she advises him.
He tips his chin back as if trying to avoid her blade, but he knows he’s been caught. He holds his other hand up in a show of surrender.
She presses her blade against him, applying a tiny bit more pressure. Another drop of blood forms, and he hisses at her.
Slowly, she releases his arm. Watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t try to attack her, she keeps the blade pressed against his vulnerable throat while she grabs the silver chain draped around his neck.
With a sharp tug, she breaks the chain and pulls the ring free from where it hung around his neck. She holds the ring in her palm, studying it. It’s large, clearly meant for a man. She slides it onto her thumb where it fits securely, then steps back out of arm's reach.
“You little fucking gremlin,” Hawk says as she releases him. But he’s smiling, and his voice has a hint of pride in it.
Ulayna holds her hand up, showing him his ring on her thumb. “This will be staying here for safekeeping. If you want it back, you’ll have to take it… And I’ll be ready.”
He sits back on his haunches, shaking his head incredulously. “Did you seriously just stroll in here, past an army of Bratva soldiers, and take my ring from me, without even using a gun?”
Ulayna shrugs. “I wanted to prove to everyone, myself included, that I shouldn’t be underestimated.” She twirls her jeweled hairpin between her fingers. “And that pretty little things can be deadly, too.”
“I could have shot you,” he says, sounding angry and worried.
She points at where his shoulder is bleeding slightly. “And I could have stabbed you.”
As if suddenly remembering the knife stuck in his headboard, he reaches back and tugs it out. He tosses it in the air a few times, catching it carefully by the hilt.
“Nice knife,” he says. “Well weighted. Small but deadly. It suits you.”
“Thanks,” she says. “It’s my favorite.”
He sets the knife down on his bedside table. “Good. Because I’m keeping it. If you want it back, you’ll have to take it. And I’ll be ready,” he says, echoing her earlier words.
She smirks at him. “Game on. I won this round.” She holds her hand up again, showing him his ring on her thumb. “But I’ll be back for my knife, and we’ll see who wins the next round.”
“Looking forward to it, little Gremlin,” he says with a glint in his eyes.
Proud of herself, she turns to leave, but she sucks in a startled breath when she sees the crowd of men in the hallway. There must be a dozen or more men loitering around Hawk’s broken door, looking in and whispering among themselves.
She recovers quickly and tips her chin back. She meets every pair of curious eyes before stepping forward again.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she says, careful to keep her voice even and soft. She won’t demand that they move for her. If they respect her at all, they’ll step aside naturally, like the man on the stairs did.
Relief courses through her when one man and then the next nods in acknowledgment before stepping back.
They make room for her, the small crowd of men parting so she can pass.
It’s a struggle to keep her face placid as pride and exhilaration course through her. She did it! She not only succeeded at Hawk’s challenge, but she also managed to show some of the men exactly how capable she is.
She’s congratulating herself on putting a hairline fracture in that glass ceiling when a familiar pair of eyes snag hers. While all the other men have looks of grudging respect or even humor, Mikhail’s eyes are raw with anger.
She holds her head high as she walks past him. What is his problem?
But she can’t help the goose bumps that erupt on her skin when he whispers, “You shouldn’t be here,” in his rough voice.
But then she sees Bill, Shade, Ruger, and Phoenix standing at the bottom of the stairs. Each one of them is smiling, pride glinting in their eyes. Brushing off Mikhail’s weird reaction, she descends the stairs.
“Hey,” she says, acting nonchalant. “What’s up?”
Bill grabs her around the waist and hoists her into the air. She lets out a surprised and joyous squeal when he lifts her onto his broad shoulder and does a victory lap around the bunkhouse living room.
“Put me down,” she insists after a few minutes. She’s glad Alexi’s team wants to celebrate her victory with her, but she’s trying not to make a big deal out of it in front of the rest of Alexi’s men.
Bill sets her down on her own two feet as Hawk makes his way down the stairs, shouldering his way through the crowd of men. He’s dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and boots.
He walks toward Ulayna, then stops a few feet in front of her. His expression is stoic, revealing nothing. He seemed proud of her a few minutes ago, but worry flickers through Ulayna briefly, and she wonders if he’ll hold a grudge against her.
He peers down his nose at her, his features looking even more hawk-like as he studies her. But then, he reaches down and pulls his pant leg up to reveal her knife tucked into his boot. He winks at her, then strides past her to the bunkhouse door.
Looking over his shoulder, he asks, “Are you coming to breakfast up at the main house, or what?”
And just like that, the tension is broken.
Ruger whoops in delight and slaps her on the back, nearly sending her sprawling, and Phoenix gives her a huge hug.
In seconds, she’s swept along by the team, completely forgetting about the rest of the men and Mikhail’s watchful stare that seems to track her everywhere.