âNikolai. . .â Justineâs throat works hard to swallow before she forces out the rest of her sentence. âYou canât kill your father. Y-y-you canât.â
My knuckles popping when I clench my fists is the only audible noise over the manic beat of Justineâs heart. The lust in her eyes has faded, but thatâs not what has rendered me speechless. Iâm silent because of the cloud of terror briskly forming in her eyes. Iâve worked hard the past thirty-six hours renewing the life our exchange with Vladimir caused to her eyes, and now that prick is once again dousing it.
Vladimir may be the man who raised me, but he is not my father. All Vladimirâs children have eyes darkened by the ashes they were born in, so my icy blue eyes had me combatting suspicions most of my childhood. Believing they were spoken by vindictive men wishing they were me, I brushed them off as envy. Little did I know every sneered taunt was true.
I am the byproduct of a woman pushed to the brink by a man she loved. Desperate and delusional, my mother pledged to birth Vladimir a son at any costâeven her life. I am the result of that guarantee. I was raised as a prince in one world, where, in reality, I am king of another.
âItâs either me or him, . Who would you prefer?â The tick in my jaw grows. I didnât mean for my tone to come out the way it did, sharp and direct, one I generally reserve for my crew.
Justine isnât a member of my crew. She is unlike any woman Iâve met. Sheâs smart, has a face that could bring men to ecstasy just looking at it, and has a body more sinful than Satan, but thatâs not why Iâm attracted to her. It is the woman I see behind the shield. The one who didnât cower when going head-to-head with a mafia prince. The one who battled the most vicious man in my crew and survived without a scratch on her. Thatâs the woman I crave like a drug, not the one staring at me with a pained expression on her face.
Although worry continues clouding Justineâs eyes, its rate slows when I run my index finger down her cheek before it drifts along her collarbone. She breathes noisily when my trek moves to the small bite-marks gracing the tops of her shoulder. Justine hates her scars, but I think theyâre beautiful. They reveal that even angels can be sent to hell and come out the other end stronger than they went in. If someone so innocent can survive Satanâs wrath, whoâs to say I canât do the same?
âI canât keep my promise if he remains breathing, .â
Justineâs breathing switches from shallow pants to quick gasps when my hand drops to the generous swell of her breasts. I glide my finger over her budded nipple. It hardens even more from my meekest touch. The heaviness on my chest is pushed aside for smugness. I love the way she responds to my touch, her desires more potent than her worry.
âHeâll take this away from me.â I lift and lock my eyes with hers. âHeâll take you away from me. Iâd rather slit his throat than let him come between us again.â
Tears glisten in Justineâs unique aquamarine eyes as her teeth graze her bottom lip. She doesnât need to speak for me to hear her internal battle. I can see it in her eyes, smell it on her skin. Sheâs not worried about Vladimir. She is concerned about what this will do to me.
She doesnât need to fear. While raised in the shadow of a monster, I learned his greatest tricks. I know how Vladimir thinks. I know what makes him tick. So there isnât a man in the world more suitable for this task than me.
âThere must be another way, Nikolai. Murder canât be your only option. . .â
Justineâs words trail off when I shake my head. âThere is no other way. What I said was true. Anything I want, Vladimir takes. But Iâll be fucked if I let him take you away from me. I will not give you up, Justine. Not in a million years.â
An offer sneered in Russian nearly lost me the chance of making Justine mine. I will not fuck it up a second time. Roman is like a father to me; heâs been my âuncleâ since the day I was born, but I wanted to slice the tendons in his thighs and watch him fall to his knees when he suggested I use Justineâs scars to diminish Vladimirâs interest in her. I should have cut out his tongue for even suggesting Justine was anything but perfect, but instead, I took the cowardâs way out, deciding Justineâs safety was more vital than maintaining her dignity.
I was wrong.
The look on Justineâs face when she discovered what I had done cut me raw. Iâve fought in the most brutal battlesâmy body wears the medals of my triumphsâbut not one scar Iâve endured my past twenty-eight years maimed me as much as it did when it dawned on Justine what I had done. The pain in her eyes scorched my soul, issuing me with a wound Iâll carry for eternity.
That wound didnât just confirm I have a heart beating in my chest; it struck me down from a god to a mere man. I was raised believing I was a prince, and those beneath me were my servants. Now, I realize that isnât true. There is only one king in this story. I am not him. I am the mere pawn he mind-fucked to seek shallow revenge. I am not his son. I am not even his sergeant. I am the man who will teach him his greatest lesson.
An eye for an eye.
A life for a life.
A crown for a crown.
Vladimir fucked with what is mine, and now heâll pay the ultimate price. Itâs time for the king to be removed from his throne, and who better to do that than the man who will take his place?