When Kliment falls to the ground, Trey’s wide eyes scan the now silent room. “Does anyone else have anything to say?” He stares at the shocked men with murderous eyes, as if he’s hoping someone will take up his challenge.
When they fail to fall victim to his trap, he sneers, “Disrespecting Justine is as punishable as disrespecting Nikolai. Both will result in death.”
Because I don’t want to risk fainting, I keep my eyes locked on the group of men as stunned by the turn of events as me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for Trey’s protection, but I’m fearful of how many more lives will be lost between now and when Nikolai regains his throne.
“Now clean up this mess.” Trey’s glare at the dozen whores frozen mid-hump discloses what mess he is referring to. “Gather the remaining men from Clarks and return here within the hour. If you are not back primed and ready to fight, you will be considered a deserter.”
Not waiting for them to respond to the threat in his tone that reveals what happens to AWOL Popov members, Trey guides me over a lifeless Kliment before directing me down the hall where Nikolai’s home office is.
My skin quivers more with every step we take. Not because I’m frightened, but because the blood on Trey’s hand is seeping into my shirt. I’m seconds from passing out. I most likely would if soul-hardening adrenaline wasn’t surging through my veins. Now is not the time for me to act weak. Once Nikolai is safe, I can panic as much as I want.
After guiding me into the chair behind Nikolai’s desk, Trey lifts my eyes to his.
“Don’t,” I murmur upon spotting the apologies brimming in his. “He broke the rules, and he was used as an example of what happens when you do that.”
Trey stares at me, equally stunned and amused. “Nikolai always said he got the tiger. Never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.”
I smile, accepting a compliment I never knew I wanted but secretly need.
“So, what’s your plan?”
Now it’s my turn to glare at Trey.What does he mean? I’m not running this show.
“Ah, yeah you are,” Trey responds to the unvoiced words streaming from my eyes. “What you said earlier is true. Nikolai rewrote the rules we live by months ago. In the event of his death—”
I nearly cut him off, insisting that Nikolai isn’t dead, before his next set of words steal mine. “—Or if he is incapable of ruling, the guardianship of the Popov entity is to be bestowed upon you.”
He flips open an old, leather-stitched journal until it stops three-quarters in. Although my eyes are too blurry with tears to read the ink scribbled across the time-stained paper, I don’t need to know what it says to know who wrote it. It was Nikolai. If the E’s appearing to be backward threes isn’t enough of an indication, an identical signature to the one he used when altering his home arrest documentation is a sure-fire indication.
My eyes lift to Trey when he says, “Even if Nikolai hadn’t changed the rules, you are still the best person to run this operation. You know Nikolai. You know how he thinks, acts, and what makes him tick.” My nod of agreement ceases when he adds on, “You’re also the only person capable of telling us what happened at Rico’s.”
“I don’t remember everything—”
“But you remember some things. That’s better than what we’ve had the past three days.”
A huff parts my lips. It arrives seconds before my halfhearted nod.
After removing the planner from in front of me, Trey’s backside takes its place. “You mentioned that Maxsim knew stuff about Nikolai no one else knew. What type of stuff?”
“Stuff I can’t repeat without Nikolai’s permission.” My tone reveals I’m not trying to be coy. I just refuse to disclose private information about Nikolai without his knowledge. “Let me just say, only a handful of people know the information Maxsim was slinging at Nikolai.”
“Okay. Good. Anything else? Even something that seems insignificant.”
I shake my head for barely a second before a small memory breaks through the fog in my head. “When Blaire and I were cleaning up, she broke a cup. The rhyme spoken through the baby monitor in the kitchen was odd, but not disturbing enough for the response it elicited from her. I thought that was strange.”
“A nursery rhyme?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t a nursery rhyme. Only a monster would sing something so villainous to a child—” I still as commotion causes havoc with my stomach. I wouldn’t be shocked to discover Vladimir’s style of parenting included scary, death-like rhymes.
Goosebumps break across my skin when Trey sings, “Send the angel to the devil’s bed, hold her, cherish her—”
“Then cut off her head,” I interrupt. “She danced with Satan and now she is dead, all for lying in the devil’s bed.”
Trey rakes his fingers through the thick beard on his chin. “Fuck!”
“What?” I scoot to the end of my chair, assuring even if his reply is a whisper, I won’t miss it.
Although the name he says is who I expect, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow. “Vladimir.”
