Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)

“Always.”


She sighs. “He’s furious, you know?”

“Good.”

“The Silver Star alone would have been hard to lose. But the Manhattan Club as well? You’ve got some balls on you.”

I raise a brow. “You always knew that.”

“He’s a dangerous man when he’s angry, Leo.”

“That makes two of us.” Her features are ice cold, lifeless. But in her eyes, I see something else. “Has he hurt you?”

She tilts her chin down to hide her face. It’s a move I recognize from the old days. Back when our ambitions were born of more than just revenge. It reminds me, deep down, she’s still in there. Somewhere.

Whether she can ever come back out is a different story entirely.

“He never stops hurting me, Leo. The pain never leaves.” Her voice cracks. “It never will. It doesn’t matter how sweetly he talks to me or how gently he touches me in the moments between. It all just hurts.”

Her eyes glisten with tears I know she’ll never let herself shed.

“Listen to me,” I say softly. “If it’s getting too much for you, you don’t have to keep doing this. I’ll get you out.”

She’s shaking her head before I’m even done talking. “No,” she says firmly. “I’m going to see this through. I’m taking the motherfuckers down. I don’t care what it costs.”

“It might cost your life.”

“Is that even worth anything anymore?” she asks.

I should be pulling her out right now. The toll this is taking on her is obvious and devastating. But the call of revenge is too close and too sweet to resist. I still need her on the inside.

“It’s worth something to me.” I reach out and take her hand.

She stares at our entwined fingers. “What was I like… before all this?”

“You were happy.”

“Happy,” she scoffs. Her mouth contorts as it forms the word, like it tastes strange on her tongue. “It was a fantasy, wasn’t it? Right from the beginning. I should have known it couldn’t last.”

“I may not be able to give you happiness again. But maybe I can give you peace.”

She looks down, the mask slipping firmly over her fine features. She shakes her head and steps back.

“Peace died for me a long time ago. There is no peace for me in this world, Leo. I live in the chaos now. I live in the pain.” She looks over her shoulder towards the road. “And it’s time for me to go back to it.”

“You’re sure?”

She smiles, but it’s not a sincere one. “I appreciate you asking, especially when I know you don’t mean it.”

“You’ll let me know if anything pops up?”

“I always do,” she says, turning towards the shadows of the bridge.

Before she can go, I blurt, “She’s pregnant.”

I don’t know why I do that. Mostly because she deserves to know, I guess.

Her body goes rigid for a second. Her expression gives nothing away, but I can read the emotion underneath the mask.

She’s jealous.

“You’re going to be a father,” she says tightly. “Is that why you’re so deadset on getting her back?”

“Something like that.”

She cocks her head to the side. “We know each other too well for lies, Leo.”

I leave that alone. There’s no point getting into it with her now. It wouldn’t change anything.

“Well, what’s your big plan, then?”

“To stop trusting incompetent fuck-ups,” I say. “This time, I’m taking care of everything myself.”

“I’d have expected nothing less,” she says, amused. “It’s been nice chatting with you. But, as they say, duty calls.”

I nod. “Thank you, Agent Thirty-One.”

She gives me a half smile. Then she disappears into the darkness where it’s easier to wear her disguise.





LEO





ELEVEN MONTHS LATER





The mountain compound is a fortress.

The walls are high, but it’s the natural terrain that does most of the work. Rock formations hang precariously over steep falls, jagged edges threatening to impale anyone who tries to scale them.

The only safe entrance is through the main gate. And that’s only if you’re allowed through by the armed guards.

“Jesus,” Jax grimaces. “It’s like the pope lives inside.”

I focus my high-powered binoculars on the walls. There are lookout towers on each corner of the compound with a pair of guards stationed in each. They’re suited up like they’re prepared for battle.

In a way, they are.

“She’s been waiting for us,” I say, mostly to myself.

“I’d say so,” Gaiman murmurs. “Seems a little paranoid, if you ask me.”

“If she’s expecting us, does that mean we can stop skulking around and just walk through the gates?” Jax asks. “I’m bored.”

“You want to storm this place?” I prod him. “I’d love to hear how. Maybe we can get in, but then what? Is that a chance you want to take?”

Jax shrugs. “That’s not my decision to make, Don.”

Jax is lucky he’s useful. Even luckier that I like him. I’d throw anyone else off a ledge for that sarcasm.

I roll my eyes and turn away. “Time?” I ask gruffly.

“9:55,” Gaiman tells me. “The gates should open in five minutes.”

I already know that, of course. I’ve had a permanent team on Willow’s fortress for thirty-three days now.

Every Tuesday at precisely ten in the morning, the gates open and a contingent of two vehicles leave the compound. The first armored jeep carries five men. The second carries five more, plus one additional passenger.

My wife.

Willow visits the town situated seven miles down the treacherous mountain road for an hour, sometimes two. Then she returns back to the compound’s walls and stays there until the following Tuesday.

The ritual has been driving me mad. Each Tuesday, I caught a glimpse of her. But I couldn’t be seen. I had to stay hidden.

Until now.

Now, I intend to take back what is mine. Not only my wife—but my child, too.

The thought stings. I don’t even know if I have a son or a daughter. So far, my men haven’t been able to collect any intel on the baby. Willow would have given birth about two months ago, by my estimation. Which means the Solovev heir is living and breathing somewhere behind those walls.

The massive bronze gates start to part, emitting a creak that shakes the mountains. The snow descends from where it’s packed around the spikes along the walls.

“There we go,” Jax says unnecessarily. “It’s game time.”

I can sense the excitement rush through the men. They’ve been preparing for this moment for almost two months, ever since we finally managed to pinpoint Anya’s exact location.

The information wasn’t easy to come by. It has been a long and bloody process. But I’m nothing if not determined.

To his credit, the man who gave up Anya’s position put up a good fight. For that, I gave him a clean death. I can appreciate loyalty, even if it is misplaced.

Like clockwork, the first jeep leaves the compound, blissfully unaware of our position behind the thicket of snow-capped trees. Five seconds later, the second jeep follows the first.

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