The words land like a punch.
“You’re lying,” I say automatically.
“I was young,” Vladimir continues, ignoring me. “My first kill. I still dream about it.” His gaze goes distant for a moment, almost nostalgic. “Don’t worry. She died quickly. A clean shot.”
My stomach churns. “You’re a monster.”
“Perhaps,” he says lightly. “But we’re all monsters in the end.”
Nico isn’t,I want to scream, but I bite my tongue. Because he’s pacing and monologuing now, and I have him exactly where I want him, and if I make him mad, I’m done.
I keep silent. The key cuts deeper into the rope.
“The beauty of the plan,” he goes on, “was what came after. We pinned the killing on one of the other families. The Neris retaliated. Then the others retaliated back.”
His smile returns.
“The Italians slaughtered each other for years. Exactly as my father intended.”
The rope loosens slightly around my wrist.
Hope flickers inside me.
“And then,” Pavlov says with a note of irritation, “the goddamn Neris ruined everything.”
I look up.
“A child,” he says, almost spitting the word. “Not even thirteen. Niccolò Neri.”
My heart stutters.
“He convinced the others to stop fighting. Brokered a truce.” His jaw tightens. “They rebuilt. They unified. And by the time my father’s Bratva moved to take the city…” He spreads his hands. “They weren’t easy pickings anymore.”
The rope is almost cut through.
“My father died without seeing his dream fulfilled,” Vladimir continues quietly. “But I’m finishing it.”
“Why?” I ask, because I honestly can’t wrap my head around it. All this senseless violence.
His pale eyes lock onto mine. “That first kill should have meant something. Blood should not be spilled without purpose.”
Nico’s mom.My heart clenches for her. And for the horrible way this monster speaks of her, like she’s a trophy he was denied.
“You murdered a woman,” I say. “And let thousands die to cover it.”
He’s nonchalant. “History remembers winners, Ms. Hartwell.”
“And Nico?” I ask curiously.
His lips curve. “The black king.”
“Huh?”
“Neri,” he says. “Black, in your language.” His gaze sharpens. “Kings fall through their queens, Ms. Hartwell. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father, it’s that.”
My fingers give one last pull.
The rope is almost?—
