Throne of Power: Chapter 9

I lie on my stomach and stare through the lens of my rifle.

As much as Vladimir was Nazi about the security, he couldn’t tighten it enough to eliminate the invisible soldiers on the roofs—especially the faraway locations.

Besides, the church is so low that all the surrounding buildings could and would be used as a sniper nest.

This is Brooklyn, after all; the tall architecture is a sure way to carry out missions.

I narrow my lens’s focus to the altar, where a beautiful woman stands beside Sergei. I zoom in until she’s in full view.

White looks good on her, majestic, almost like she’s some screwed-up type of angel who came down to torture humans.

Rai’s expression is far from angelic, though. Even though she’s still hiding behind countless layers of makeup, she can’t camouflage the twisting of her lips or the reddening of her delicate neck that’s begging for my fingers around it.

She’s become an expert at bottling her rage, but not enough to fool me. After all, I was with her every step of the way when she was trying to get rid of her hotheaded personality—or to at least keep it under wraps. The truth of the matter is, there’s no way in hell she could’ve become docile and obedient, at least not in this lifetime.

Rai was born to conquer and crush anyone who defies her or poses a threat to her family. She never once stopped or hesitated, her gender be damned.

That woman is more tenacious than most of the men I’ve met.

And because of that, she’s dangerous to my mission.

It would be so easy to pull the trigger and erase her from my path. What is she anyway, aside from an insignificant pawn who will cause more trouble than it’s worth?

My finger won’t move. It can’t.

I don’t know when this state began, whether it was after I saw her again or if it were there seven years ago. All I know is that I can’t pull the fucking trigger on Rai Sokolov, even though she’s my worst enemy.

I direct the rifle at the building opposite of the church where the other crime organizations’ guards are stationed. Who knew my wedding would be a vipers’ den for New York’s most notorious criminal faces? It’s not only the Italians, Chinese, and Japanese; there are also the Armenians and the Ukrainians. While most are classical allies of the Bratva, they’re not closely tied to Sergei’s reigning period. They could marry among each other to strengthen their relationships, but most clans are too traditionalist to give their daughters to outsiders.

Lucky for me, Sergei absolutely wouldn’t.

Bloodlust runs in my veins as I aim my rifle at three guards standing at the back of the building. My muscles tighten, but my body remains inert, calm, almost like I’m sleeping with my eyes open.

The cloudy sky is my only limit.

There’s no wind, no disturbances. There’s only the need for chaos.

I pull the trigger, hitting the first guard in the forehead. The moment the other two turn to him, raising their guns, it’s already too late. I hit one in the heart and the other in the hollow of his neck.

The three of them fall over each other without a sound or a fuss. Clean. Fast. Efficient.

First part of the mission is complete.

Still on my stomach, I glide backward, hide the rifle in its case, and then I remove the bricks I dug out a week ago when I decided on this location. Next, I hide the weapon between the rocks.

Once finished, I crawl to the entrance and only stand when I know no one on top of the other buildings will see me.

I zip up my hoodie, wearing my mask and my sunglasses, as I take the stairs three at a time.

“Target one eliminated.” I speak to my second sniper through the intercom attached to my ear. “Take care of both Kai and Lazlo.”

“Got it,” he replies in his bored tone. I brought him with me from England, and I’m not sure if that’s the brightest decision I have ever made.

But, the fact remains, Flame is the one who taught me how to snipe in the first place. It goes without saying that if anyone can take care of this, it’s him. I still don’t like that he’s deep into my business, though. While we belonged to the same organization, he serves himself and himself alone.

“And don’t touch a hair on the head of Rai,” I add.

“Pussy-whipped already?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not really my thing. But now that we’re chatting, are you going to tell me why you want to hit Kai and Lazlo, of all people?”

“Because Kai is the equivalent of Adrian for the Japanese, and Lazlo is the equivalent of Sergei for the Luciano family.”

“You’re killing their brains—smart.”

“I know that.”

“Always the arrogant one, Kyle. Guess your dishonorable discharge from the group didn’t change anything about you.”

I ignore the jab at the past and say, “Get to your position.”

Flame may have a more senior rank than me, but as he said, I don’t belong to that group anymore—thus, I have no obligation to respect the hierarchy.

I click the button and exit the building as silently as I came in. Since it’s still new, the cameras aren’t fully working yet, so I can slip into their blind spots more easily than if I would’ve chosen another building.

After I sneak to the back entrance, I get rid of the mask, the glasses, the fake mustache, and the hoodie, remaining in my black tux. Then I throw them in the rubbish can.

I run two streets up to find my Porsche. As soon as I’m inside, I kick my sports shoes away and put on my leather ones. I stare at my face in the rearview mirror.

I look ready for a wedding.

It takes me a minute to reach the church. I spot Vladimir at the front, expression grim, knuckles white. His tension doesn’t lessen when he sees me. If anything, his rage rushes to the surface like an active volcano.

Holding out a small box, I step out of my car and throw the spare keys to one of the guards. I always have another one on me in the case of an emergency.

Vladimir is in my face in a fraction of a second. “Where the fuck have you been?”

I shake the box in front of him. “Getting the rings. I almost forgot about them.”

He narrows his eyes on me but says nothing, so I push past him and head inside, pretending to be flustered that I’m late.

Sergei’s and Igor’s faces ease at my presence. If I hadn’t shown up, it wouldn’t only have been an insult to Rai, but also to the entire brotherhood. I might have been forgiven before, but if I abandoned Sergei’s grandniece at the altar, he’d chop my head off with his own hands—or he’d probably let Rai do it.

There’s no forgiving disgrace.

While the church calms down upon my entry, Damien, the fucker who needs a bullet in his skull, glares at me, obviously displeased that I showed up.

He must’ve been waiting, biding his time, planning to take Rai away, but he doesn’t know who he’s up against. He has no idea that I’ll be his worst nightmare.

Rai’s expression doesn’t change, neither in relief nor in apprehension, but that spark doesn’t leave her eyes. My future wife looks ready to rip me a new one. I smile at the thought of what I’m going to do to her tonight.

After the show I prepared, she’ll have nowhere to go but to me.

Only to me.

As I walk toward her, I can’t help but notice how her simple white dress molds to her tits at the top. The décolletage, although partly camouflaged by lace, hints at enough cleavage to leave me salivating for more. The cloth hugs her curves and falls to her feet. It’s simple, elegant, like everything about her.

Who knew someone who looks so much like an angel could harbor a devil inside? And I’m very glad to make its acquaintance. After all, I’ve been raised among devils since I was five.

Some would argue I became one myself, but I digress.

When I reach Rai, she huffs under her breath and turns away from me. It’s Sergei who places her hand in mine.

“Take care of her,” he tells me in a low tone only I can hear.

I’ll do more than take care of her, old man. I’ll ruin your entire empire through her.

“It’ll be a miracle if he takes care of himself,” she mutters under her breath.

Sergei clears his throat, kisses her head, and then offers her his hand. She kisses it, then I’m forced to do the same to show respect and blah fucking blah.

As soon as he leaves our side, Rai faces the priest, her expression closed, but there’s something she can’t control—her eyes. They’re darkening and glimmering with the promise of a battle brewing in the distance.

I lean over to whisper in her ear, “What’s made my beautiful wife mad?”

She elbows me with the strength of a warrior. Fuck, it’s hard enough that she nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. “Your existence.”

“You wound me, Princess,” I joke.

“You deserve more than a wound.” She meets my eyes for the first time today, and I don’t like what I see there. It’s not about the anger she wears as armor, or the frustration that accompanies her inability to inflict violence. It’s everything else, from the slight tremble in her chin to the tears shining in her eyes. No matter how much she tries to chalk those up to anger, they’re not. Far from it.

“You weren’t planning on showing up, so why did you? Are you taking pity on me?”

I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close to my side. I spent a long time away from this woman, so long it’s become blasphemy to put even more distance between us. “I came because you’re becoming my wife.” She tries to pull away, but I keep her pinned in place as I smile at the old priest. “Please proceed.”

He clears his throat and speaks in English, but with the signature Russian accent. “We’re gathered here today for the holy union between Kyle Hunter and Rai Sokolov.”

He goes on and on about the importance of marriage and God and his lovely angels and everything in between. His words filter in through my ears but never really register. My entire attention is on Rai, who’s concentrating way too hard on the priest’s nonsense.

Her brows draw together when she’s in focus mode and her lips part a little, revealing the slight teardrop at the top lip.

She can look so delicate and soft—breakable, even—that is until she speaks or takes action. That’s when people know they have a feisty, take-no-nonsense type of person on their hands, the kind it’s almost impossible to win against because they were trained to never lose. Either they win or they destroy.

“What are you looking at?” she snaps through gritted teeth without cutting off her concentration on the priest.

“You, Princess.”

“Focus.”

“I will do the focusing thing later when we consummate our marriage.”

“Kyle!” she hisses.

“What? You’re the one who’s tempting me.”

“You’ll be far from tempted when I kick you in the balls.”

“Kinky—I love it.” I lower my voice. “Does this mean I get to use toys?”

“Toys to choke the life out of you, maybe.”

“I had other types in mind. You know, the ones that make you scream for more.” The priest clears his throat, and I motion at him to continue. “Never mind us, Father. We’re laying the grounds for our future ‘holy’ union.”

He gives us a weird glance as if thinking there’s nothing holy about this union. He wouldn’t be wrong, but I also don’t believe in holy things, per se, so it doesn’t apply to me.

After he finishes his monologue, the priest faces me with his version of the Russian vows. “Do you, Kyle Hunter, take Rai Sokolov as your wedded wife to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”

“I do.” The words come out a lot easier than I expected, even though I’m staring at her expressionless face. I think it’s the last bit. I like it.

Till death do us part.

Yes. I definitely like it.

He turns to her. “Do you, Rai Sokolov, take Kyle Hunter as your wedded husband to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”

Silence.

Long silence.

Seconds tick by, but they feel like years as she stares at me, and just then, her blank expression cracks, showing a hint of the girl I knew seven years ago. While she doesn’t show vulnerability, she’s showing something, a wound, or another emotion I can’t put my finger on.

Then, I see her free spirit—the one that refuses to be tied down by anyone or anything.

Fuck. She’s going to run.

“Rai?” the priest calls.

Her expression closes again, and I expect her to bolt right then and there, like in some runaway bride film. Unlike those sappy things, though, I’m ready to follow her to the ends of the earth and kidnap the fuck out of her if need be.

“I do.” She says the words as if they weigh on her.

The priest and the crowd release a collective breath. I continue watching her tells, not sure if it’s a ploy or if she’ll change her mind any second.

No idea why, but it feels like I can’t be relieved as of yet.

The priest asks us to exchange rings. I take Rai’s hand in mine and stroke the back slowly, sensually, almost like I’m seeing it for the first time.

I might as well be. I don’t remember her hands being this soft. They’re too fair, her veins semi-transparent. I slide the ring on her finger as slowly as possible, then smirk up at her.

She goes immediately on the defensive. “What?”

“If you’re going to hit my balls with these hands, I’m game.”

It’s fast, almost unnoticeable, but her cheeks heat as she pulls her hand away and forcibly takes mine.

Holding in a smile, I lean in and murmur against the shell of her ear. “It’s the other hand.”

“I know that,” she blurts then switches to my left one.

Fuck me. Who knew I would ever get to see Rai’s flustered side and enjoy it this much?

She slides the ring on, then pauses in the middle of her task, her expression freezing. I expect her to back down now, but she’s staring at my hand.

I follow her field of vision, and that’s when I see what she does. Blood is smeared on the side of my ring finger. It’s not dried either. Fuck. It must’ve been from when I physically subdued some of the guards before I went to the building’s roof. I was careful enough to not stab anyone in order to stay clean, so how did the blood end up here?

Rai raises a questioning gaze, but I grab her hand and slide my ring all the way on.

“By the power granted to me by the church, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest says. “You may kiss the bride.”

Rai attempts to give me her cheek, but I wrap an arm around her waist and slam my lips to hers. She protests at first, but the moment I move my mouth against her own, she remains as still as a board.

I dart my tongue out and lick her upper lip, then feast on her lower one. She tastes like addiction and bad decisions, and yet I would still come back for a hit every day.

Rai places a hand on my chest, letting out a protest, but I use the chance to plunge my tongue inside her mouth. Her arguments turn into a moan when I twirl my tongue against hers.

Her eyes widen at the sounds coming from her, and I wish I could freeze this moment in time so I could revisit it every day.

Who knew we would have our first kiss here?

I don’t release her, not even when murmurs break out among the crowd, or when the priest keeps clearing his throat like he has a bad cough.

Fuck them.

The only person who matters in this room is in my arms, hot, bothered, and fucking mine. Now, I need to keep my promise about the consummation part.

The church’s glass breaks and screams fill the space.

I freeze for a fraction of a second.

Well, fuck.

I was too lost in my new bride and I momentarily forgot about the mission. That’s a first.

I begrudgingly release Rai’s lips and grab her arm, pulling her behind me as everyone brings out their weapons.

Let the chaos begin.