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I meet every pair of eyes that gazes my way, seeing a mix of hope, greed, and satisfaction in each of them.
“I can’t do this. I can’t fill my father’s shoes. I can’t exist in his shadow because our morals and views on the future clash too harshly. We’re simply too different. Perhaps if I had been raised with a drop of love, then I would be more like him, but that’s the kicker. I wasn’t. So I’m not. It’s hard to even call himfatherbecause the only thing we shared was our eye color.” I chuckle humorlessly. “So, from tonight, I will no longer be in charge of any of you.”
“You’re stepping down?” three voices ask in unison.
“I will no longer be your boss, that’s correct,” I reply carefully. Thunder rolls above as each man glances at his neighbor with greedy delight. “So I ask that you all raise your glasses with me one last time and drink to the cold, calculated memory of my father. May he rest in peace and without shame for the different path I walk.”
Eight generals raise their glasses.
A mix of bourbon, whiskey, and vodka is gulped down past each parched man’s lips without a second thought. They’re far too caught up in their glee for the future. Free from a woman lording over them with judgment and the wrong morals, free from having to abide by archaic laws forcing them to accept me as the Godmother of this family.
They are free.
I retake my seat and very slowly sip my wine.
Lightning flashes brightly, illuminating the room, and for a moment, every single general looks as white as a sheet, like ghosts caught in a snapshot. As the room falls dark, a flurry of rain suddenly lashes against the tall windows lining the wall. Theskies have cracked. The rain pours as the room fills with the wet, gurgling noises of choking, dying men.
The poison on the rim of each glass is fast-acting. One second, they’re savoring the taste of their desired drink. The next, their throat swells shut and cuts off all ability to breathe. Only mouthfuls of blood spurt past parted lips as each man claws at his neck and fights for air around me. Crystal glasses shatter on the floor, and the precious China plates are swept from their mats by flailing arms. Chairs tip over as men stand and try to flee the room, or even reach me, but they don’t make it more than a few steps.
Blood pours from the lips of dying men as rapidly as the rain lashes against the window. Thunder cracks, and the next snapshot of lightning in the room illuminates the dying moments of cursed men. I lock eyes with one man as he crawls toward me on the floor.
I drink my wine slowly and sigh deeply.
He makes it another inch, and one claw-like hand stretches out toward me with generations of malice flooding his eyes.
“In case it wasn’t clear,” I say softly, locking eyes with him as he takes his last breath, “I’m not stepping down. You’re all fired.”
2
ANASTASIA
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“How many are there?” The urgency of my words matches the pace of my stride as I cross a large parking lot littered with cars from my people, ambulances, and a food truck.
“Sixteen.” Viktor Petrov struggles to keep pace beside me, his lack of litheness betraying his age.
“Sixteen?” The number is high, far too high. “You’re telling me all sixteen have been locked up here for the past seven months and no one thought to shut it down? I thought I was prettyfuckingclear.”
“This one wasn’t on the books,” Viktor insists.
“Yeah, like all the others,” I mutter.
“Anastasia.” A few feet from the door into the building, Viktor catches my elbow and pulls me to a stop. “You have to understand that this is your fault.”
“Excuse me?” I spin to face him, causing the ends of my hair to whip around faster and sting against the side of my neck. “Thisshithole is my fault?” I wrench my arm free from his grip and my gaze hardens as he drops his hand to the side and sighs deeply.
“I don’t mean it how you think I mean it. When you slaughtered those generals, we lost a lot of information.”
“You were my father’s underboss,” I remark coldly. “Are you telling me they knew more than you?”
Viktor has been by my side for more years than I can count. He was my father’s underboss when he was still alive, and his advice has proven invaluable since his death. It’s the only reason I didn’t invite him to dinner five months ago and why he stands with me now as one of the few people I allow in my circle.
He knows more than I ever could, and while my slaughter of my father’s generals sent a pretty clear message that I’m not to be overlooked, I still need all the help I can get. Being thrust into this life with minimal training is hard enough and would be impossible without Viktor, but that doesn’t mean I have to stand for the implication that these people have been trapped here because of me.
“I’m one person, Anastasia,” Viktor replies. “The generals all had their own segments. You know that. You killed them without warning, so everything they knew died with them.”
“And the orders I gave?” I arch one brow. “To shut down every pornography site, to put an end to the disgusting sex slave trade my father set up? Did that somehow get lost in translation these past five months?”