Page 103 of Violent Pawn

If his ghost lingers, he better accept my mental middle finger to mean go away.

I read the list again before chilled fingers flip the page. If he’s recording Lev’s imprisonments, then it stands to reason he has something on me.

The book slips from my grip when landing on the page marked A—and the list of names that make me want to burn the book, then locate the ashes of Papa’s corpse, which we had the funeral home dispose of. With them, maybe I’ll find a way to reanimate him, all to burn him alive.

They’re names I’ve long stopped thinking about, in order to survive the hatred and trauma. While Vanessa chased and hunted her ghost—the man Ursin sold her virginity to—I ran from mine. Most of them are dead anyway, done by my hand, but the few Papa found more profit in blackmailing with his underage daughter rather than making them disappear are still around. I’ve pretended their existence means nothing. That, in order to not obsess over hunting them, chasing leads will get me nowhere.

Now, with the Bratva’s power behind me, removing them would be all too easy. But trauma is a funny thing. Dimitri’s situation really sold me on not following up with the remaining men. It’s easier to leave the nightmares behind me and focus on the present.

Everyone has different survival techniques, and that’s mine.

Every man, dead or alive, is named. Every single one Papa forced me into a room with.

It’s the five names of the men still breathing that grip my attention the longest. Each scenario rushes back, shattering what years of building safety nets had done to avoid reliving it.

The five men who raped me, so he could gain favour. Favour or blackmail he brought to Ursin and Ivan to prove his worth and loyalty.

Everyone won in those cases. Everyone but me.

A tear slips from my cheek, hitting the book and mingling with the smudge of blood on the corner of the page. I wonder which of the dead men it belongs to. After a moment, my muscles cooperate to shut it, closing that part of my life once more, and I focus on the paper jammed into the top.

The handwriting isn’t the same as what’s in the notebook.

I wronged you in so many ways by stealing vengeance that was yours. It’s not the same, but maybe this will give some of it back. You probably have your reasons for not hunting them already—because we both know you’re strong enough to—but in my opinion, they don’t deserve to breathe after harming you. They’ve been living on undeserved mercy.

I planned on leaving all five to you, as is your right, but I couldn’t help myself. I figured you already hate me, so what’s one more reason if I got to avenge you, just once? This time, knowing what they’ve done—what was done to you, and with you on my mind.

Below are the addresses for the remaining four, for you to ultimately decide their fates. The power is in your hand.

Let them live, take them out yourself, or allow me to kill in your name (because it’ll be done if you let me). Make that choice.

N.

“That fucker.”

Vanessa eyes the book, note, and drying heart with amusement. Amusement that matches her husband’s roaring laughter. He snatches the note to skim it again. “It’s definitely Nero’s handwriting, that I’ll confirm.”

Vanessa crosses her arms over her chest, fighting her smirk. “It’s…sweet in a way.”

Zeno peeks into the box for the fourth time, his laughter fading into a twist of his lips. “Not sure what’s getting worse: his benders or sobriety.”

I jam a finger close to the disgusting organ. “Is he actually insane?”

“Probably.” Zeno shrugs, as if his friend’s mental instability isn’t a concern. “Two months ago, I’d have said no, but he’s different now. It explains why he flew back to the Cayman Islands the other day.”

He happened to find Papa’s book somehow. Something we didn’t even know existed. Following the thought, I grumble, “I didn’t even know Papa kept this. How did Nero know to look?” Was murdering my father not enough? He toured the place afterwards too?

“He made some correlation between paperwork and their age or something.” Zeno shuts the box, ending the now-faint but still abhorrent smell. “He’s desperate and went on a sober rampage to do right by you. He was gone for days and would barely respond to my texts.” He flicks the edge of the box. “Guess this explains what took him so long.”

“Desperate for what?” I ask, a bit breathless from earlier because I know. He’s desperate for me to contact him and reply to his apology text. To find a reason to forgive his actions so that blame he spoke about having can end. Guilt over Zeno’s father turned into guilt towards me.

Vanessa watches me, as if dissecting my thoughts. “Are you still angry with him?”

“Of course, I am.” It comes out quicker than intended, a bite. “One dead rapist isn’t changing my feelings.”

“The whole thing’s ironic.” She tosses me the notebook and Nero’s message. “What do you plan on doing with it?”

“Same as always. I’m not bothering with the ghosts of my past.” Sliding the note inside the book’s cover, I tuck it close to my side as I debate where to store it. Maybe in a fireplace somewhere. Or in a garden on the other side of the world. Choices.