Alik shows a palm as if to say he doesn’t know but then considers it. “To be fair, he was equally frustrated with their worthlessness.”
Vitaly’s eyes move to me as I reach the desk he’s leaning against and wipe my bloodied knife on a cloth.
“What do you think?” he asks me.
“Do I think Nikita is telling his people to give you a hard time?”
He just stares intently, waiting for the answer.
That isn’t what he’s really asking. He’s asking the question he’s asked himself every day since he took over.
Did he do the right thing leaving his uncle alive?
I wish I could say it’s a resounding yes. That we’ve all been living as one big happy family these last few months. That whenwe had our tiny wedding at the lake house nearly a decade late, Nikita walked me down the aisle in some twisted fate.
But, of course, Nikita didn’t come. He wasn’t exactly invited nor uninvited. He was healing after being nearly stoned to death when some decided they couldn’t resist temptation. It took Roman physically forcing people to stop—and taking a few stones of his own—to save Nikita’s pitiful life.
The man is a cockroach who won’t die. A cockroach who now lives in a different mansion on a different side of Vegas. He’s what Vitaly is callinga valuable member of the Bratvawho silently and resentfully attends meetings with the lieutenants. Vitaly even seeks his council in attempts to establish good faith. Who knows if the bitterness will fade or if he’s plotting his revenge. All we can do is be ready for it.
Alik must sense the tension between us because he gets up, exchanges a look with Vitaly, then leaves. Once he’s gone, Vitaly sighs.
“You think I should’ve killed him,” he says, his eyes closing.
“I don’t think that.”
I take his face in my hands so he’ll open his eyes and look at him seriously. “You set a tone. Therighttone. Trust me, it’s what our people needed after all the hell we’ve been through.Youare who we needed.”
He rubs his thumb over my cheek and takes a deep breath. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’malwaysright.”
He smiles wide, shaking his head as he clucks his tongue and goes to study my freshly-dyed hair. It’s a light brown that I guessed was close to my natural shade based on the roots that were growing out.
“I like this,” he hums, fingering one of the iron-curled locks.
I pull the lock from his fingertips, drawing his eyes to me. “I’m glad,” I say, with a devilish grin. “But I didn’t do it for you.”
He huffs out a laugh and nods. “Good.”
Cupping the back of my neck, he pulls me in for a kiss. My lips spread for him as he leans into me aggressively, wanting, demanding, but never possessing. Vitaly has asked so much of me these last few months, as his wife, as his partner, as his top asset, but he’ll never ask to own me.
Because in our world,thatis love. It took us a decade, countless deaths, a prison sentence, slavery, and a war to learn it.
But we’re finally here. We finally made it.
Til death do us part.
