Throne of Vengeance: Chapter 11

I don’t feel so good.

That’s an understatement. I can at least admit that I’m the worst I’ve been since…Dedushka’s death.

A weight perches on my chest, confiscating my air supply and replacing it with a harsh, merciless gloom.

It’s draining me.

Asphyxiating me.

And all I want to do is just…scream.

But at the same time, I don’t have the luxury of losing myself to that feeling. It’s over. Everything is…done.

It’s been exactly two hours since I freed Kyle. Just two hours and it feels like fucking years already.

I was never good at letting things go. I never get used to the feeling with time like most people. Instead, I hold on to it and keep replaying it in my head during every waking moment. I didn’t let go when Mom died or when I was separated from Dad and Reina, and I definitely didn’t let go when Dedushka left me all alone with this pack of wolves.

I lost too many things and became horrible at moving on. So it’s not a surprise that I keep replaying Kyle’s words and seeing his bloodied face over and over. At this rate, it’ll consume me and eat at me from the inside out little by little.

So instead of getting lost in my own head, I choose to go back to V Corp and busy myself with work. Kai called to schedule a meeting, and I asked him to come today. I need all the distractions possible.

Ruslan and Katia accompanied me silently. They’ve been sulking ever since I freed Kyle. I left before Vlad could catch me because he’d have my head on a platter, but I’ll deal with him later.

Ruslan even told me that Kyle isn’t the type who will disappear just like that, but he forgot that Kyle has no choice because if he comes near my family or the brotherhood again, I will have to kill him.

Kai shows up on time, as usual, gives a firm handshake, and joins me in the lounge area. His guard remains outside with Ruslan and Katia.

While I wanted this meeting to happen so I could distract myself, I should’ve prepared more for it. Kai is a bit like Adrian. He doesn’t give up and runs a lot deeper than his nonchalant façade. So when he plans something, he goes the extra mile that not many people know exists.

Kai is the brain of the Yakuza here and has strong ties to their counterparts in Japan. In fact, he has often been asked to go back to lead one of the clans in his country, but he prefers staying here.

At one of the parties we attended, he once told me that New York is more fun with all the warring clans and organizations. A man who gets off on chaos should never be taken lightly, because you never know when he’ll get bored and instigate said chaos.

He sips leisurely from a cup of green tea while I opted for a coffee. Truth is, I prefer to just throw everything out and hit the bar.

If it were a few weeks ago, I would’ve spent ample time studying Kai’s movements and trying to hold the upper hand in any negotiations.

But now my mind feels kind of blank, and instead of shooing it away, I hold on to it. The blankness means I don’t have to think about what happened in the warehouse. About Kyle’s bloodied face and tortured about. About whether or not he already left the country now.

“I heard you’re having problems with the Irish,” Kai starts nonchalantly.

“A little.”

“Isn’t that an understatement?”

“Perhaps, but it’ll end one way or another.”

“Don’t you think it’s taking more time than it should?”

“It is.”

“It’s natural, though.”

“Natural, how?”

“You and the Irish were always on bad terms.”

“How do you know that?”

“I might have heard tales.”

“What kind of tales?”

“The interesting kind.”

Ugh. He’ll keep dragging me along before he finally divulges it. “Care to elaborate?”

“Let’s say that you were friends once upon a time.”

“We…were?” The brotherhood and the Irish have always been at each other’s throats for as long as I can remember. Damien’s dispute is only the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Yes. Nikolai never mentioned that?”

“Not really. I know our Bratva counterparts in Russia, Boston, and Chicago can get along with the Irish, but that was never the case for us.”

Kai’s eyes twinkle as he takes a steady sip of his tea. “You got along with them a long time ago.”

“How long are we talking about?”

“Decades.”

“How would you know? You couldn’t have been present at the time.”

“No. But I have birds.”

A bird is Kai’s word for a spy. He has lots of them. Birds.

“And what did your birds tell you?”

“Birds talk a lot and make so much noise, so I don’t always take their word for granted.”

“You wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t already suspect something.”

“This is why I like you.” He snaps his fingers. “You’re quick-witted and understand the situation just like that.”

“Does the compliment mean you’ll tell me?”

His lips move in a soft smile, which completely contradicts the tales I’ve heard about how he mutilates his opponents with his sword. He takes his love for kendo to another level that I’m sure isn’t instilled in the noble form of the Japanese martial arts.

“What if I told you there are some illegitimate ties?”

“Illegitimate ties?” I repeat.

“As you said, I wasn’t present. I’ve only heard passing birds talk about things that might not be true.”

“What type of things?”

“Things that include secret alliances and meetings in the dark.”

“Between who and who?”

“Someone Irish and someone Russian, and by someone, I mean they held—or hold—some importance in both organizations.”

“And I guess you’re not going to divulge the names?”

“I’m afraid my birds aren’t that talkative.”

More like he is not that talkative. He’s keeping his cards to himself and won’t reveal them unless he deems it necessary. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You seem quite stressed about this situation, and I don’t like my partners stressed. See, that takes away from their efficiency.”

I raise a brow. “Am I supposed to take that as a jab or a compliment?”

“I prefer the latter. I don’t mean to offend you.”

“Then there’s no offense taken.”

“Good, good.” He savors his tea. “Now to the reason I’m here.”

I place one leg over the other, getting comfortable. “Pray tell.”

“Are you going to sell me more shares at a price fit for partners?”

The clever jerk. Kai knows V Corp’s net profit will keep on rising, and he’s one hundred percent behind profit. He will keep his octopus hands around us as long as it keeps doubling and tripling his initial investment.

“I would love to, but I Igor mentioned that you’re not very sure about our partnership. I heard the meeting with Abe didn’t go so well.”

“Yes, that. He came to ask us for help, but we don’t offer help. We believe partners benefit each other. In a partnership, you give as much as you take.”

“Does this mean if I give you a profitable price, you will send your men over?”

He takes a sip of his tea before his sharp, dark eyes meet mine. “This means it’ll be a good start of a partnership.”

“And you’ll personally see to it?”

“Definitely.”

That’s a good sign, because even though Abe, the head of the Yakuza, isn’t open-minded, he listens to Kai. Not only is he the second man in command, he’s also quite cunning.

“In that case.” I raise my coffee mug. “I’ll ask my secretary to send you some drafts.”

“I will be waiting.”

The door opens and I grit my teeth. The only people who would barge in like that are either one of the elite group or Sergei. Since my granduncle has an appointment with a doctor today, my options are narrowed down.

Sure enough, Vlad saunters in, eyes flaming and face tightened in a permanent scowl. Of course. It was only a matter of time before he followed.

Kai smiles at him. “Vladimir, long time no see.”

“Kai.” Vlad greets back, barely tipping his head in the Japanese’s direction.

He looks like a man on a mission and in no mood for small talk. Not that he ever is.

Kai’s smile remains in place as he stands up and buttons his jacket, then shakes my hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Looking forward to it.”

His hand remains in mine for a second too long. “Before I go, may I give you a piece of advice?”

“Yes, of course.”

“History does repeat itself, so you might want to look closely at that.”

And with that, Kai releases my hand and steps out of the office.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Vlad is in my face. “Why the fuck did you let him escape?”

I sit down and continue drinking from my coffee even though it’s turned cold. “Because he was useless.”

“Useless? You had to feign amnesia for useless?”

“I overestimated the information he has. Turns out it holds no value to us.”

“We get to decide that after we torture him. Besides, since he obviously kept things from the Vory, he deserves death.”

That asshole has too many enemies to count. Vlad would be the first person to shoot Kyle in the face if he got the chance. Damien, Mikhail, and even Kirill would follow. None of them actually like him because he rose in the ranks so fast and didn’t work hard enough like the rest of them.

And while Kyle’s sin—the fact that he plotted the brotherhood’s demise—is punishable by the worst form of death, I just couldn’t do it or let anyone else do it for me.

The breaking of my heart that I heard earlier is still resonating in my chest like an echo. Even though I tried to ignore it during the afternoon, now all I want to do is curl up in a ball in a dark place and stay there.

“Just let him go, Vlad.”

“I can’t just let the motherfucker go. He needs to pay in blood.”

“Have you forgotten that he’s still my husband?”

“That doesn’t make him untouchable.”

“No, but if everyone else finds out he’s a traitor, it’ll reflect badly on me. Kirill and Mikhail are already plotting my fall, and if I give them this chance, they won’t hesitate to chop my head off. So…just let it go. For my sake, Vlad.”

His lips twist and I’m sure he has a thousand objections, but I played the card he can’t refuse—me. It’s a low blow, but it was the only way he’d ever agree. Besides, none of what I said is a lie.

“Fine, but if he shows up again, I’ll fucking murder him.”

“If he shows up again, I’ll do it myself.”

Vlad gives me an undecipherable glance as if he doesn’t believe me, but leaves it at that.

I leave work late and barely check on Anastasia before my numb feet lead me to my room.

When I open the door, the first thing that hits me is his distinctive scent, and I hate that. I hate that his presence is a breathing being in every corner of the room.

It’s not only about his jacket that’s casually flung on the chair or the masculine traces he left behind. That’s only the beginning of it, because everything in this place reminds me of him.

It reminds me of how he sneaks up on me from behind and picks me up just so he can fuck me on the bed.

Or when I wake up to him either spooning me from behind or eating me out until I scream.

Or when we wrestle to see who gets the upper hand and I end up losing—mostly on purpose—just so he’ll fuck me roughly.

Or when he thrusts toys into me, his gleaming eyes never leaving mine, because we both love the depravity of it.

It hasn’t been a long marriage, but he’s became such an inseparable part of my life. Now that he’s gone, I have no clue how the hell I am going to pick up the pieces.

I wish I really had amnesia so all of this would be easier.

But would it, really?

I don’t bother with a shower or with changing my clothes.

Removing my dress, I kick it and the shoes away and flop on the bed in only my underwear.

Even the damn sheets smell like him, clean and masculine.

It won’t be long before his presence completely vanishes. It’s for the best. I know that, but a tear slides down my cheeks as I close my eyes.

God, it hurts. It’s not supposed to, but I can almost hear my heart shattering to pieces all over again.

The pain is so raw, I gasp for air. It’s like I caught a nasty disease with no cure.

I try telling myself it’ll be better with time, but I said that lie seven years ago and it never worked. If anything, I kept thinking about him day in and day out like an addict.

I hated it.

I hated myself back then.

So why am I repeating it again?

No answer comes to mind, but tears do. They won’t stop, and I fall asleep with my eyes wet and my heart in shreds.

Soft fingers wipe them away before they slide down my body.

I startle, eyes snapping open.

A large shadow looms over me. I scream, but his hand muffles any sound I might make.

I pause as his scent fills my nostrils and seeps into my bones.

Is this a dream or a nightmare? Perhaps it’s both.

“You didn’t really think you would get rid of me, did you, Princess?”