Chapter 72
My breaths remain fragmented until the weapon is lowered from Zeno’s throat.
At that moment, I really am the failure Ivan calls me. The woman Papa never saw fit to do what he deemed as a man’s job.
I’ll fight until I die to retain control of the Bratva, but for now, I’ll toss it all away without regrets because I refuse to see Zeno killed. The blood from Ivan’s first shot was enough to give me a taste of a world without him because when I heard him yell, saw the blood, watched as his face paled, and I wasn’t sure where he was shot exactly, I thought that might have been it.
Behind me, Anastasia shifts with anxiety, and a slight rumble of muted conversation travels through the remaining soldiers from both sides.
My uncle taps Zeno’s chin with the gun’s barrel. “You truly are not fit to run the organization if you gave it all up for him .”
“Maybe I’m not. Being a Pakhan doesn’t have to mean giving up my soul. Let him go.”
I think about the statement in Padre’s journal: No Pakhan’s soul is ever intact. And the questions I had for myself a month ago: if I was already there or if I had yet to lose mine.
Maybe if it was already gone, I would have made a different choice today. One where I’d walk away a victor with a bloodied crown upon my head and a gameboard stained with past mistakes.
It’s almost like Ivan provided the ultimate test. He thinks I’ve failed for the choice I made, while I’ve confirmed I still have a soul.
Surprise sparks in Ivan’s eyes. “This right here is why years ago I said you wouldn’t be suited for the role and the sacrifices required. To be a leader, one must lose their soul.”
“Papa lost his after Mama’s death. You lost yours after what you did to Dimitri.”
He sneers, not questioning how I know about his past. “Love is a weakness, as you’ve witnessed today. My brother improved once he lost all those he cared about. As for my son, I made him better. He wouldn’t be a fraction of the man he is now if his whore was still around.”
“Your son will murder you if I don’t get the chance to today.”
He laughs once without humour. “You still think you’re winning?”
“Yes, because the game’s up. I’ve agreed to your terms. Let Mancini go.”
Ivan’s gaze flicks from me to around the room, settling on the soldiers behind me. His smile is slow and calculating, and a weight drops into the pit of my stomach.
“Wouldn’t you prefer to end the people who hunted you? This is your chance at revenge, Vanessa.”
He’ll never let Zeno go. I see it in the cruel glint of his eyes. I doubt he ever planned to either. Ivan strokes the gun along Zeno’s throat and for this, I vow Ivan will get what’s coming to him. After Dimitri’s finished with him, I’m taking what’s left.
His finger moves to the trigger and red flashes over my vision. A picture of what’s to come. But it’s not Zeno’s blood. It’s Ivan’s.
Zeno shifts again, his arm coming closer to his body. With a quick wink at me, he tells me what his own plan is. His arm comes up, grabbing for the one Ivan’s holding him with, and the few seconds’ distraction allows me to retrieve my gun.
With a sharp shot I only have Dimitri to thank for, I aim the gun straight at Ivan’s leg and jerk the trigger. He drops with a cry, releasing Zeno, who immediately whirls around and locks his arms into an unyielding hold.
Ivan peers up at me, his face scrunched in pain. “Predatel'skaya suka.”
“Calling me a traitorous bitch is ironic coming from the man who worked with our enemies all to see me dead. Who kidnaps innocents to try to take back a losing game.” I stop beside him, sending a sharp kick to his ribs, pleased when he bows over, clutching both his side and his leg. “That’s for constantly underestimating me.”
A few soldiers led by Anastasia approach and I gesture to the pitiful man groaning on the ground. “Tie him up. We’re finished here. His life is owed to someone he’s hurt more.”
I back away to allow them to work without sparing a glance. Ivan doesn’t deserve any more of my attention. He’s simply yet another person who’s hurt me that I’ll now put behind me. With him in custody, he won’t be an issue any longer.
All around us, the few remaining soldiers of Ivan fall to their knees in submission, knowing without their leader, they won’t win this fight.
While Ivan’s being wrangled to one of the chairs he had Zeno and Serafina on, Zeno paces away a few steps, his back to me. His free hand cups the injury and I don’t think about the consequences, only every second since finding his life at risk. Seeing him tied up at gunpoint, and then injured.
I make it to his side quickly, swinging around to the front of him, peeling away his finger one by one, aware I’m likely doing more damage but needing to see the injury for myself. To ensure there’s no bullet shards lodged in his skin again. To ensure he’s okay.
“Vanessa.”
His voice sounds far away, muted, as my attention remains on the only important thing. I rip the bottom of my top and loop the strip around his bicep, covering the blood as much as I’m able to.
“Vanessa,” he repeats firmer, his other hand coming up to cup my cheek. He forces my gaze away from the blood, his shredded skin, the part of him I feel helpless to fix. “I’m okay. Because of you.”
Viridescent eyes search me, his thumb stroking the spot beside my eye where some asshole punched me earlier. His mouth opens, his touch packed with a sentiment he’ll want me to face.
I can’t.
“You’re hurt because of me.” Because I was selfish and didn’t let you go sooner .
He reaches to cup the other side of my face with his other hand, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth as he stretches his injury. I’m about to call him an idiot, ordering him to relax until we can get him patched up, but when his forehead falls onto mine, I forget how to speak. How to think.
My eyes flutter shut.
“I’m okay,” he repeats, whispering. “It’s over. You did good. You saved me.”
He’s okay. He’s okay.
For a moment, the entire warehouse falls away and it’s only Zeno and me in another time where I could allow myself to feel, for the fear I felt to be something larger than mere concern for a comrade.
Once again, I’m reminded of Papa’s journal. He loved my mama too at one point, and then he lost her, and the loss got to be too much. No matter how it’s spun, love is cruel. Being vulnerable hurts. Losing the object of affection or being betrayed by them—both are unacceptable.
He’s okay. He’s okay.
But I’m not Papa and?—
Nothing has changed.
I lift my head from his, not meeting his eyes when I murmur, “Glad you’re alive, Mancini. Wouldn’t want to explain to the Cosa Nostra why one of their capos was killed in my territory.” Zeno’s brows scrunch together and it seems like he’s about to say something so I add, “Let’s go see if Serafina and Lev’s all right.”
I turn without waiting for his reply, avoiding what he wants me to admit. From the feelings quickly creeping up again.
On my way to the exit, I pass Anastasia. She’s staring at Zeno behind me before murmuring, “You agreed to your uncle’s terms.”
“I was never handing over the Bratva. I just needed him to think I would.”
“What would have happened if?—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt, walking by her and out the door. “It’s over.”
Outside, the SUV that Lev and Anastasia took here has the back door propped open, Lev’s leg sticking out.
I rush closer, taking in the bloody scene. Lev is sprawled on the back seat, his head in Serafina’s lap as she pins a cloth to his shoulder, red staining the material. His eyes are clamped shut, his mouth parted through his heavy, paced breaths.
Serafina, who’s paler than usual, face tear-stained from earlier, gasps when I appear in the doorway. “Oh, thank fuck, it’s you. I-I need…I mean, he was shot getting me out.”
“Shit. Ana!”
She jogs closer, tossing me the vehicle’s keys as she takes in her bloodied brother in the back seat with a curse. She climbs inside, pulling the rest of his body in with her and lays her hand over Serafina’s.
“I can take over. You did good.”
I quickly slide into the driver’s seat while Zeno takes the passenger side, his hand retying the piece of my shirt I used to sop up as much of the blood. He looks over his shoulder to check, “You okay?”
Serafina shakes her head, swallowing through her anxiety. “I’m alive thanks to him.” She slides her gaze to Anastasia. “He’ll be okay, right?”
With a set expression, Anastasia replies, “He’s been injured worse than this before. Seems to be a clean hit, but he’ll need a doctor soon.”
I slam my foot down onto the gas pedal and take off.