Page 43 of Black Ledger

“Okay…” I drew the word out.

“Come as Sienna, your new self.” He nearly rolled his eyes. “And I would like you to miss or shoot mediocre on all your shots.”

My nose wrinkled. I hated being bad at anything. I especially hated it when surrounded by the Bratva boys. So Severin asking me to suck at archery on purpose was a big ask, and he knew it.

But Severin was a tactical and logistical expert. It was why, during the War Games, when we were on separate teams, I worried. His tactical brain would beat mine any day.

Severin loved chess, and he always knew what move you were going to make ten moves before you made it.

It was maddening. But I wouldn’t let this ruin a mafia deal for him.

Although I could be a brat, so I made him wait a beat. “All right, I can do that.”

“Great.” He held my classroom door open and let me enter. He did not follow… for once. My brow furrowed. What was he up to?

“I’ll see you later. I’m walking you home from class.” And with that, he was gone.

Severin Volkov gave me whiplash.

You know when you read a book, and the male main character sends the female main character a dress in a beautifully wrapped box? And she slowly unties the perfectly tied ribbon, opens the gift, and finds a spectacular dress—more like a work of art than an actual garment. Often described as glittering like the stars and dripping in elegance.

This dress was not that.

This dress looked like a Pepto-Bismol had a baby with a Powderpuff girl. It was short tulle, mixed with a hint of lace that flared at the waist and ruffled under the trim.

I looked like a walking ball of cotton candy—which would look lovely on so many other girls but was tragic on me.

After all, I was known for my resting murder face. So today I was cosplaying as Murder Barbie, I guessed.

What the fuck was he up to?

And did I have to pretend to be a sweet, perfect doll?

I wasn’t sure, so when I arrived at the archery range, I came in quietly and tried not to make a scene, which was impossible because half the guys there had trained with me.

So they gawked and made it very much a scene. To which I said, “Well, I am a girl, and I can wear whatever I want.”

Kaz saw through it right away and strolled up to me, hands in his pockets, a cocky, far-too-satisfied grin on his face.

“Shut up,” I said. “Not a fucking word.”

His smile widened. “Oh, I have got to know why you look like Valentine’s Day vomited all over a toddler’s dress and you decided to squeeze into it.”

“This is obviously not a toddler’s dress.” I crossed my arms, the motion bringing attention to my very exposed cleavage. “If anything, it’s a dress for a nine-year-old’s birthday party.”

Kaz cackled. “So dare I ask why?”

“I don’t know.” I kept adjusting the fabric at my waist. “It’s all part of Severin’s plan, which you are not going to ruin.”

He held up his hands in fake surrender. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“You very much would dare.” I scanned the crowd. Severin was in the middle of an important conversation with someone definitely from the Chicago branch of the Bratva. I turned back to Kaz. “Which is why you will say and do nothing to mess up whatever deal Severin is negotiating.”

Kaz dragged his hand down his face. “Fine, but only because of you.”

“He’s going to be your Pakhan one day. You should probably drop your rivalry sometime soon.”

“He won’t be for years. If anything, Aleksandr will cling to life until we’re eighty just to spite us all.”