Throne of Vengeance: Chapter 15

A week later, when I wake up in bed alone, a thousand ominous thoughts rush into my head.

It takes me a few minutes to grab my phone due to the shaking in my hand. The message I find there instantly calms my breathing.

Kyle: Morning, Princess. I’m off with Adrian for business with the Italians. Don’t forget to eat breakfast. Oh, and come home early so I can make up for not fucking you first thing in the morning. P.S. Wear that red thing from the other time.

I smile, imagining his exact tone as if he said those words aloud. Ever since that night where he barged back into my room, bloodied and bruised, and announced that he was staying, I’ve felt like I’m in an alternate reality, one that’s shrouded by fog. I figure the mist will eventually wear off and he’ll realize staying is dangerous.

Not that Kyle is afraid of danger. If anything, the life he’s lived thus far might have gotten him addicted to it.

Every night, after he fucks me until I scream, he gathers me in his arms and answers any questions I have. We have no trouble talking now, and it feels new—exciting, even—for every day I look forward to what he’ll tell me about his life in The Pit or the countless adventures he’s been through.

I feel closer to him now more than ever, to the point that I’m impatient to go back home just so I can see him. All the chaos in the company and my secret search for the embezzler all fade to the background when I’m with him.

In Kyle’s arms, I feel light, protected, and…peaceful.

I tell myself that’s why I long for his merest touch, and not the fact that my sexual drive has become insatiable lately. Sometimes, I want to restart as soon as we finish, and that’s not normal, especially since he exhausts me to the point of no return.

To say I completely trust him now would be a lie. After everything he’s done, it’s hard to take his word for granted. He didn’t only lie to me, he also used me, and that doesn’t just go away.

I might be unable to kick him out of my life, but I can’t completely accept him. At least not until I make sure everything he said is true or that his intentions are no longer nefarious.

I need to get to the bottom of that, even if keeping this whole thing a secret from Sergei is eating at me. Not only do I not like keeping him in the dark, it’ll be dangerous if he finds out I’m hiding critical information. When it comes to choosing between family and duty, the latter always comes first for the Pakhan.

But I’m sure he’ll forgive me if he knows I’m doing this for both my husband and the brotherhood. I already told him and everyone else that I regained my memories, so he has to wait a bit longer for the rest.

They all wondered how Kyle got beat up, and he came up with a lame excuse that some ‘brute’ thug and his ‘stupid’ minions ganged up on him. He said they looked worse than him, something for which Vlad nearly shot him there and then.

After showering and dressing in a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, I sit at my console to do my makeup. I’m starting to miss the toy between my legs—or more like, the feel of Kyle with me at all times. While I meant that I will kill him if he embarrasses me by using it in front of the Vory members, I did like the added excitement. Or this could be another manifestation of my weird sex drive.

After finishing, I stand up. My heel catches on the ground as the world starts spinning. I hold on to the console with shaky fingers and close my eyes for a brief second in order to regain my composure.

When I open them again, my room comes back into focus. That was weird. I need to eat in case some vitamins are missing from my body. I’m generally not the best when it comes to self-care.

I step out of my room and stop at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of hushed tones. I’m not one to eavesdrop, usually, but the two people speaking hold more importance than that principle.

My back flattens against the wall as I slowly peek around the corner. Kirill and Damien are standing toe to toe by the balcony’s door that leads to the garden. They either forgot the door was open or they don’t care.

Damien is shoving a cigarette in his mouth with clear detachment in his green eyes. He has flecks of gray in them when you look close enough, but they’re not visible from this distance.

His posture is nonchalant, but not hunched or completely detached. Damien is the type of person who’s always ready to punch someone here, shoot someone there, and bury someone somewhere.

Kirill, on the other hand, is an erect wall, standing with his hands lying limp by his sides. It’s the body language he usually feigns to make the other party believe he is approachable, harmless, even. That fox is cunning even when it comes to his body language. He’s fully aware of every move he makes, unlike Damien who doesn’t care what image he projects on the world as long as he gets to inflict violence.

The reason I’m standing here is the utter weirdness of the view. Damien and Kirill have never gotten along, not in Dedushka’s time and not now. They were always reprimanded for the endless fights they caused at the table.

Kirill leans more toward Igor and Adrian. Damien is a lone wolf who doesn’t get along with anyone—except for maybe Vlad a little. Well, and me when he wants to be a pain in the ass.

The fact that they’re talking one-on-one is suspicious. The absence of their closest guards who follow them like shadows is one more reason why I should be privy to this conversation.

Kirill readjusts his glasses with his middle finger. While they’re thick-framed, they don’t hide the intensity of his gaze. “What’s your deepest, darkest desire, Damien?”

“Aside from spilling your brains on the ground and pretending to mourn at your funeral?” Damien lights his cigarette and blows the smoke in Kirill’s face, fogging his glasses.

The latter doesn’t flinch or show a hint of annoyance. He doesn’t even remove his glasses to clean them and lets the smoke disperse on its own. “Yes. Aside from that.”

“Hmm. Why are you asking?”

“I might make it happen.”

“There, there, since when did you start to think you’re all that? If I want something done, I will do it myself. I don’t need your fucking help.”

“I’m faster.”

“I’m stronger.”

“Speed is more important, Damien.” His words turn slower, agonizingly so—taunting, even. “Surely, it’ll come in handy for your current quest.”

One second, Kirill is standing, and the next, Damien is grabbing him by the throat against the balcony’s glass door. I hide further behind the wall in case they notice me.

The gray flecks in Damien’s eyes that I couldn’t perceive earlier expand until they nearly cover the entirety of his irises.

The black bull.

It’s the side of him that only comes out when he’s on a violent spree. I contemplate going out there in case the crazy bastard actually kills Kirill, but the smirk on the other asshole’s face stops me.

What am I thinking? Kirill is well aware of Damien’s unhinged nature, more than anyone else. He signed up for this and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Damien snarls in his face, pointing the lit part of his cigarette at Kirill’s cheek as if he’s planning to burn holes in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went on with that plan.

“Does it matter?” Kirill pushes him away with what seems like ease but must’ve taken a lot of effort. He readjusts his glasses with deliberate slowness. “Something else matters more. Pardon—someone.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Kirill.”

“You can try, but that would be a waste since we can have an agreement.”

Damien takes a long drag of his cigarette and lets out a cloud of smoke. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Kirill smiles, dusting off Damien’s jacket. “Let’s get together in a more private place after the meeting.”

Shit.

I can’t lose track of their conversation after that. Kirill is clearly planning something. First, he got his octopus hands on Adrian, and now he’s going after Damien—whom I at least thought couldn’t be swayed.

My phone vibrates and I swiftly pull away to check the text.

Vlad: Sergei wants you in his office.

With a groan, I go back upstairs. Kirill and Damien won’t leave yet since they were called by Sergei. I need to figure out what they’re plotting, or at least Damien’s fixation. If I can get him that instead of Kirill, I can convince him to switch to my side.

I knock on Sergei’s door before I step inside. Vladimir and Igor are sitting with him in the lounge area. I nod at my supposed father-in-law, and he nods in return before focusing back on the paperwork splayed in front of him.

Vlad doesn’t spare me a glance. His jaw is tight and his beard appears thicker today, casting an ominous shadow on his face. He’s been in a pissed mood since I released Kyle that day, and he completely stopped talking to me when he found out I took Kyle back.

He tried to shoot him the following morning. Needless to say, Kyle got his own gun, ready to murder him as well. So I stood between them to stop their madness and told Vladimir he has no evidence against Kyle and, therefore, he can’t shoot him. Something for which Kyle smirked at while he pulled me possessively to his side by the waist.

“I don’t even know you anymore,” Vlad told me. “When you go back to being the Rai I recognize, come talk to me.”

That was about a week ago, and to say I don’t miss Vlad’s companionship would be a lie. If it were the old days, he would’ve been the first to help me brainstorm about Kirill and Damien.

Sighing, I greet Sergei by kissing his hand and then remain standing. “You asked for me?”

“Yes. You did well, Rai.”

I stare at the three men present. “Concerning what?”

“Kai,” Sergei explains with a proud gleam. “His leader, Abe, is open to negotiations, and it’s all thanks to you.”

I smile. “It’s my duty.”

I knew Kai’s profit-oriented brain would be favorable for a lucrative partnership.

Vlad grunts under his breath, but he says nothing. He’s like a grumpy large bear who finds it a chore to speak.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll go to work,” I tell Sergei.

“No, no. Since you started this, you have to take it to the very end.”

I halt in my tracks and face him. My granduncle appears healthier lately, his face less darkened and his coughs seldom making appearances. It gives me hope that I don’t want to have, like the hope I had when Dedushka’s heart condition got worse. I thought he was stronger than the world, but he left me. Sergei will leave too.

Everyone does.

I shoo those thoughts away and ask, “What do you mean?”

“We have a meeting with Kai and Abe today.”

“And?”

Sergei exchanges a look with Igor, who speaks on his behalf. “Abe specifically asked for you, Kirill, and Damien.”

“He did?” I stare incredulously. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if Igor goes?”

“That’s what I said,” Kyle’s fake father agrees. “Damien, of all people, shouldn’t be anywhere near a strategic meeting.”

He can say that again.

“It can’t be helped.” Sergei stands. “Can I trust you, Rai?”

“Of course.”

“Keep that wild dog on a leash,” Igor tells me, appearing uneasy as if we’re heading straight to a disaster, which might as well be the case.

Kirill, Damien, and me in a meeting all on our own?

Yeah, this needs a word stronger than disaster.