Page 76 of Bratva Queen

She swept a tendril of her gold-spun hair behind her shoulder. A gesture which seemed so effortless, but was a practiced move, meant to draw attention to her shiny hair. Except I knew for a fact it wasn’t real. Neither the hair, nor her being so at ease with that move.

Such beauty. Such poison.

She crossed her legs. “You asked for me, so here I am.”

Confident as always, she leaned back. She didn’t notice Damon walking behind her and closing the door. He placed his back against it. No one would pass him. No man, demon, or beautiful devil disguised as a human being.

I rose from my chair. Taking a page from Hector’s book, I got straight to business. “I know what you did to my wife.” When she tried to deny it, I cut her off. “I have it on video. Your man confessed, right before I tore him to shreds.” I owed Ilya for giving me that boon.

Her fists clenched, but she didn’t reply. What was there to say, anyway?

“You stole a life from me.” A life I hadn’t even had the chance to meet or protect. “I don’t take kindly to thieves. Back in the Middle Ages, they cut off a thief’s ear or hand, or worse. Murderous women were strangled and then burned. We live in the twenty-first century and although I do love a good old torture session—”

“Fucking A!” Damon agreed in the background.

“I’ve decided to give you a choice,” I finished my sentence.

In a flash I pulled off her wig. Svetlana gasped and reached for it, but I didn’t give it back.

She barely had an inch of hair on her head left. There were women who wore this look proudly, but not her. No, she had always been prideful of her long waves of hair that lured men into the depths of the sea like the vicious mermaids of old. I suspected that was exactly the reason why Katya had shaved Svetlana bald; as an act of repentance. Though I doubted Svetlana understood the symbolic meaning.

I dropped the wig and she didn’t reach for it. The only thing keeping her in that chair was her stubbornness, and the belief that I wouldn’t harm her because my woman had already seento that. Katya just hadn’t finished the job because she was kind-hearted. Unlike me. All I wondered was why Svetlana’s head was still attached to her body.

“He acted on his own,” she said, sounding weak.

Sure he did. “Damon,” I said, looking up at my enforcer. “Have you ever seen me kill a woman?”

“Never.”

It was one of the reasons why he followed me. No matter how much of a killer he was, inside he was a fucking marshmallow, as Katya had once called him. Damon would never hurt an animal, child, or anyone he considered weaker than him. Nor would he stand by someone who did. I was going to put that belief to the test.

I circled Svetlana. Her eyes darted from left to the right, no doubt looking for an escape route. There was none.

Finally, when I had somewhat of a handle on the rage inside me, I stopped before her. I leaned over her legs, my hands on the arm rests of her chair.

Her eyes narrowed, and she insolently cocked a brow, bluffing her way through this moment of judgment. Because that was exactly what this was, though she didn’t seem to grasp it.

I gently cupped her face, proud that I was able to do so while my inner demon was demanding that I crush her. Every fiber of my being longed to beat her face to an unrecognizable pulp. But what good would a victim do me if no one recognized her? You didn’t build a name by burying people and not leaving little breadcrumbs for your enemies to find. It was the whole, if a tree falls in the forest, would anyone hear it?

What a stupid question. Yeah, it had fallen, but it didn’t matter a fuck to anyone because no one knew about it.

I waited until Svetlana relaxed. She even rubbed her cheek into the palm of my hand. How could her skin be so warm and her heart so cold?

“I have billions at my disposal,” I said softly. “Crassus himself would be jealous at my wealth. I have an army at my beck and call that could overthrow countries. Yet it means nothing without my family. Without her.” Her jaw tightened, and I let her go, repulsed by touching her for so long. I picked the vodka bottle up and poured its contents over her head.

Svetlana jumped up, sputtering. “Kristoff!”

“Sit down!”

She immediately complied, while wiping the alcohol off her face.

I leaned into her. “Touch your face and I will break each and every one of your fingers.”

Her hands froze at her sides. “Please,” she whimpered, her alabaster skin looking ashen.

I realized this was the first time she feared me. There was a new look in her eyes, something between awe and fear, which sickened me. I had managed what no man had before, and for that she finally saw me as an equal instead of a whore’s son who had always been beneath her. How I wished I had inspired this awe and fear in her days ago. Perhaps Sokolov was right, and it was better to be feared than loved. Earning Svetlana’s friendship, if you could call it that, had only resulted in her underestimating me. And when people underestimated you, they dared to make a move against you, such as pushing your wife off a damn staircase.

I went to the wall behind my desk and took off the sword attached to it.

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