Page 4

High-pitched ringing.

That's what shot through my aching head as I forced my eyes to blink open—adjusting to the dimmed lights.

I blinked rapidly, clenching my jaw as I clung to my consciousness, staring up at the familiar ceiling.

My familiar ceiling.

I'm in my room.

I pressed my hands flat into the soft bed under me, flipping onto my side with a rough grunt.

My eyes immediately landed on a tray of food on my bedside table—along with a glass of water and my favorite white pill.

I reached for the pill first.

I was already going through withdraws and I needed it first.

I swallowed it without so much as a sip of water before grabbing two Pelmeni—a meat dumpling that felt cold to the touch.

I shoved it in my mouth anyway, roughly chewing as I reached for more.

I ate five more Pelmeni until I reached for the glass of water—finally able to lean up as I chugged the room-temperature liquid down.

Water soaked down onto my neck, wetting the neckline of the dirty black dress I still wore.

I didn't bother to wipe my mouth or myself off.

Instead, I slid out of bed, stumbling onto the cold marble floor as I adjusted to my tingling legs.

The bathroom sink was the first thing I made it to, hunching over the sink as I splashed cold water on my face.

Until I reached for my black dress—tugging it over my head.

Goosebumps raced down my bare skin, my nipples hardening under the chilly air as I ripped the tinted black stockings down my legs too.

The glass shower was cold until I reached for the nozzle and turned it to the hottest level.

It only took seconds for steam to gather around me, scrubbing my skin raw as I buried my head under the burning water.

I washed every inch of my body—scrubbing my scalp and rinsing my brown hair of the soapy suds.

Until I felt clean enough to step out.

I let out a content sigh, finally feeling like myself again as I walked over to the large closet attached.

It was a whole other room dedicated to my hundreds of clothes.

The first thing on my body were black stockings, then leather black shorts that emphasized my long legs, and a tight white shirt that I tucked into them.

Lastly, I pulled on a long cream trench coat with a pair of black stilettos—walking into my bathroom so I could pull my damp hair into a lower bun.

I also brushed my teeth and covered my face in makeup to hide the dull tiredness seeping under my eyes.

Any kind of weakness is ugly.

I hummed rhythmically under my breath, lighting one of my favorite cigars before finally exiting my room.

Almost as soon as my heels clicked across the floors, paw patters could be heard.

Until my favorite girls, Misha and Varya rounded the corner toward me.

But their excitement was wiped from them as they sat before me, waiting for permission to approach me.

Until I snapped twice, leaning down to their level as they neared me with wagging tails.

I petted them with my free hand for a moment, scratching behind their ears and under their chins as I eyed them in admiration.

Until eventually, I rose to my full height again, puffing out smokey O's as I walked past them both.

Misha and Varya followed directly behind me as I descended the stairs.

My heels clicked precisely with each step, smoking my cigar as I walked toward the main dining room.

The house was silent just as I preferred it, and the chilliness made the weight of my coat feel necessary.

I let out a calm exhale of smoke, walking past the tall doorway and into the formal dining room as I told my dogs to stay outside.

I wanted a glass of vodka and a hot meal.

The desire was gone when my eyes landed on her.

The woman who I had just escaped only hours ago.

Her dark hair was gelled back without a part as I had previously seen it, wearing an oversized leather jacket and a black t-shirt from what I could tell.

Her expression looked neutral—but I could see the amusement behind her dark soulless eyes.

Especially as she held the gun in her hand, sitting at the table of people.

Three were dead.

"We've been waiting for you," Sevan had the nerve to speak to me first.

I remained quiet, giving her a distasteful look at her blatant disrespect.

"We're playing russian roulette," Sevan spoke again, pressing down on the trigger, but the gun only clicked without a single bullet escaping from it, "I liked the irony of it."

I put out my cigar in the nearby ashtray, not speaking a word as my irritation quickly grew into anger.

Especially when she pulled down on the trigger again.

This time killing the man across from her whose name I haven't learned.

The bullet was loud and it went through his head seamlessly, forcing him to fall limp and face down on the table that clattered at the force.

Misha and Varya's barks echoed throughout the house at the sound—yet they remained put outside the dining room as specified.

"Now we're even," Sevan determined, sighing almost out of boredom, "Four for four."

I forced a tight smile, "I make it five," I said, suddenly picking up a sharp knife from the table as I approached Sevan.

Who stood sharply from her seat as I stopped in front of her.

And sliced the knife across her neck, purposely missing to cut her expensive chain loose.

Sevan grabbed my arm almost immediately and flipped me around with the jerk of her wrist.

"Mad that I beat you at your game?" Sevan asked as she held me in place by my arm twisted behind my back—keeping a rough hold on the front of my neck from behind.

I launched my head back, head-butting her as I tugged my hand loose from behind my back.

"Mad that you're supposed to be my competition," I gritted, jabbing my elbow into her side as I tugged at her hand around my neck.

Her grip didn't budge.

So I pushed us both back onto the table, and as soon as I landed on top of her, I flipped around, finally able to rip her hand free from my neck.

"You can't be in competition with someone over you, Zinovia," Sevan said, staring up at me with a bloody nose and nothing but amusement.

I pressed a knife to her neck.

"Looks like you're under me right now," I said, digging the knife into her neck and slicing her soft skin, "Just where you belong with everyone else."

Sevan's lips only twitched up.

Before she flipped our positions.

Except I was forced across the table on my stomach with her behind me.

I grunted as soon as she tugged at my hair secured in the bun—her touch so rough that my hair fell down onto my shoulders.

Which she immediately tangled her fingers in to tug my head back further.

And the fact that the other three alive people at this table were witnessing this made a fire burn inside of me—tugging and wiggling under her.

I take back what I said about weakness being ugly.

This is uglier.

"Now you're under me in more ways than one so act fucking accordingly," Sevan said, her raspy voice holding a level of irritation.

"Never," I gritted, grabbing the nearest glass china plate—

And throwing it over my shoulder.

Sevan pinned me down even harder, forcing my cheek firmly against the table.

"You should read up on what you signed yesterday—I left a copy on the table," Sevan said, causing my eyes to immediately zone in on the stack of papers on the table where she was previously sitting at.

At least until I started feeling a sudden tingling drift down my body.

But Sevan hadn't injected me with anything—I would've felt it instantly.

Maybe it's the Xanax kicking in.

Even if that never occurs when I take them.

It also could've been the food I ate—who brought the food in the first place?

Stupid, stupid girl.

I should've checked first.

"There's a new shipment of drugs that your syndicate is taking care of," Sevan told me, and as soon as she let go of my neck and untangled her hand wrapped in my hair, I pressed myself up from the table with a determined look, "I had one left on your nightstand—I hear you like little white pills."

I clenched my jaw as I turned to face her—mostly at her words but also because she had technically drugged me a second time.

So it was the pill that I took, which wasn't a fucking Xanax.

"I don't take care of anything," I said, staring up at her with nothing but distaste.

Sevan motioned down the table, "Read the fine print and then try telling me what you don't take care of," she said, backing away from me as she adjusted her jacket.

"I hope your nose is broken," I said, leaning away from the table as my ego reached for any kind of upper hand in our conversation.

Especially with the unknown drug already affecting me.

I feel heavy and light at the same time.

"If it is I'll be back to break yours in return," Sevan said, tilting her head ever so slightly and emphasizing her sharpened jawline, "I always get even Zinovia—remember that."

I bit down on my tongue—so harshly that I drew blood.

But it wasn't enough to hold back my next words.

"I always one-up you—remember that," I mocked her words back to her in my coarse accent.

Which only made Sevan lazily raise her brows, "Right," she mumbled with a look of boredom, "Because you're doing a terrible fucking job of that now."

I suddenly took a step toward her about to physically make her take those words back.

But Sevan only walked past me, grabbing her gun to secure into her waistband.

"I have too much shit going on for this," Sevan determined, walking past me toward the door, "Take care of the new shipment by the time I'm back in Moscow next week."

I clenched my jaw, grabbing the nearest glass plate—and throwing it at her head.

But Sevan leaned to the side, dodging the plate that immediately fell and shattered against the marble floors.

I mumbled a few cuss words in Russian under my breath, glancing over to the dining table that only three living men sat at.

"You leave now," I said, motioning them up, "Bring your friends with you," I said, referring to the dead bodies.

Which they immediately stood to grab.

The difference between Russians and Americans will always be emotions.

We genuinely don't care—we also don't make friends here in the mafia.

If we do, we always anticipate that they could die.

We think logically.

Not emotionally.

That's how we win.

Loyalty also helps.

My men follow through with the oath they made and never question what I do.

They also fear me, so that's always helpful too.

I've always craved fear over respect.

I let out a rough sigh, backing away from the dining room table.

A glass of vodka was at the back of my head—now all I wanted to do was eat and sleep this stupid pill off.

So I specified my meal be brought to me upstairs, heading up to my room to spend what was left of my day in bed.

???????

"Fucking useless is what you both are," I said as soon as I noticed both Nikolai and Ivan walk into the dining room.

Where I now sat at the head of the empty table with a glass of vodka and my favorite Borsch soup.

It had officially been a few hours and luckily the unknown pill I took had worn off long ago.

"We take care of a debt that Gavril owed," Nikolai said, setting down a black bag filled with money.

Ruble as we call it Russia.

"We also picked you up yesterday and brought you here," Nikolai added, now walking over to me with Ivan, "I put out food, and a Xanax—"

"It was not a Xanax," I corrected him, my voice tight and my face holding nothing but anger.

I spent the majority of my day sleeping that fucking pill off.

Nikolai's brows furrowed, "I was told—"

"Sevan Cortez," I said her name aloud, physically repulsed by her name, "She drugged me with a new shipment that we now take care of."

I suddenly glanced over to Ivan when he tilted his head.

"Is there something you want to contribute to this conversation, Ivo?" I said sarcastically, narrowing my light eyes at him.

I hate catching an attitude, but fuck am I irritated.

Ivan firmly shook his head, but I knew there was more to what he led on.

"We see you and the Executor are having a rough start," Nikolai said, and I swear the formality of her title made my body burn further with anger.

She is nothing.

I will make her nothing.

"We have no start at all," I said, taking a long sip of the burning vodka, "I don't want to lay eyes on her again," I determined.

After our meeting next week, I refuse to see her in person again.

She needs to send one of her people before she even tries to approach me.

"I should give you more information," Nikolai determined, pulling out the chair beside me.

I let out a long irritated sigh, "I don't need more information," I said, watching as Ivan sat down beside him.

The last thing I wanted to know more about was her.

"She's head of a powerful group—one that pulls strings behind the scenes," Nikolai said, pouring more vodka into my glass, "I wasn't your father's right hand—but I know he worked closely with them."

I nodded, lazily raising my brows for him to continue.

"There's four of them under her—all from around the world," Nikolai said, continuing to explain as I specified, "They were chosen from different mafias—she was chosen to lead recently."

I took another long sip of my vodka, "Who chose her?" I said distastefully.

"They call it The Annual Gala, that's where they hold the voting every five years," Nikolai explained as I took another long sip of the burning vodka, "They invite you this year now that you're a leader—but no outsiders are welcome."

I narrowed my eyes, "I bring you both," I said, my tone leaving no room for disagreement.

"We won't be allowed in," Nikolai quickly corrected me.

I shrugged, "I don't go then," I determined, setting my glass back down with a harsh clatter.

"You signed a contract, Via," Nikolai reminded me as I began rubbing my aching temples, "Don't be naive and mistake the power they hold—they will ruin our mafia without trying."

I remained silent for a moment, physically growing so irritated that it made my entire body tighten.

I haven't thrown a fit since I was a child.

But I always get my way and this...

My father never prepared me for it.

"Our mafia dominates all of Russia, we have allies," I said, deciding that I would fight this.

I will get my way.

"They dominate the world Via—the mafia's they control spread across countries," Nikolai said.

And as soon as Ivan nodded, my eyes snapped to him.

I let out a long irritated sigh as soon as he gave me a knowing look.

One that meant Nikolai was right.

That I would have to play fucking nice.

But I don't have a nice bone in my body.

"Fine," I mumbled, deciding to be logical and less emotional about this decision.

If my father worked with them then it has to be necessary.

"Ivo, we play chess," I said, suddenly standing from my chair with my glass of vodka, motioning Ivan up.

Who immediately stood from his seat to follow behind me, while Nikolai grabbed the bottle of vodka for me.