Page 27 of Violent Pawn

Either some strange woman pities my sorry and drunken ass—or it’s Anastasia.

“You sure you have him? I can put him to bed. It wouldn’t be the first time.” The deep timbre of whom I assume is my best friend cuts harshly through my buzz. Or at least, he would be, if he wasn’t stating the pitiful truth.

“Da, you two enjoy your night.” The feminine voice that haunts my nightmares—past and present—shoves through the smog before those soft hands wrap around me. One arm around my back, the other on my chest, keeping me upright.

“Grazie.” I try to push that out. Whether my grunt is comprehended is an entirely different matter.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She’s surprisingly strong, hauling me around. I try to help, but even the thought of walking sends my knees crumpling, earning a louder grunt as she’s forced to catch me. It’s then I decide not helping is probably better for us both.

Eventually, after a lot of shuffling, I’m dropped onto a mattress that sucks my body into it. Sleep almost immediately attempts to kidnap me, except I kick it away and reach for the woman who’s both my angel and now my devil.

A devil because she’s cursed me with fire for veins and tangled emotions and a history meant to send me straight to Hell.

“Stay.” Please.

Her hand slides out from beneath mine. “That’ll be a no. Sleep it off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow isn’t now. When my shoes get tossed to the side and then a blanket is pulled up over my body, it feels like she cares a little. It also means her instruction is impossible to disobey.

The dark room—the mercy of blackout curtains—makes my pounding head a bit more manageable. A tiny bit.

After chugging water and taking a scalding shower in the attached bathroom, my hangover starts fucking off. He and I, we’re old friends. Pals. Basically roommates at this point. So I know all his behavioural patterns.

Given my built-up alcohol tolerance, it takes a fuck-ton for the effects to hit hard. Dancing with Anastasia and walking away a victor, yet leaving her to find others, put my head in a negative place. A dark place that had me questioning and despising the way this woman holds sway over me. Given the mess of my life, it should be easier to loathe her.

The only reason I should want to grow close to her is to learn about the ex-Elite members. It’s the logical plan, but not the entire truth. What I told her about becoming friends in our conjoining families was the truth. It’d make reunions more tolerable if she didn’t want to spit on me every time. We can bond in our loneliness.

Once my head is thumping slower, I leave the guest room and walk the depressing hallways of the Bratva mansion. My skin crawls with the history lining the walls, and the knowledge of who once lived here and what had occurred. After a single night, I long to return home where Zeno’s villa is all sun and windows and not death.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Serafina sips coffee while Lev sits beside her, his arms loosely wrapped around her hips. The sight of them, of her tipping her head back until her lips brush his chin, makes me twitch—and my stomach churn. She’s basically my little sister, so anyone having his hands on her sends my blood racing, regardless of the fact Lev’s making Serafina happier than any other fucker.

“Must you?” I grate, announcing my arrival. “No one wants to see you two all cuddly an’ shit.”

Serafina sticks out her tongue but grants me mercy and straightens off Lev’s chest. Lev at least has the decency to look shy, his cheeks reddening as he sips from his mug.

“Where’s your brother?” The sooner I find Zeno, the sooner I figure out how today will go, presuming the reason he dragged me onto this trip.

Sera gestures towards the hallway. “Van’s office. They’re trying to get a hold of Anastasia. She’s not answering her phone.”

Lev rolls his eyes, cutting off my surge of worry. “Vanessa knows nothing will get her out of her studio when she’s training. Especially at this time of year while she’s preparing for her annual holiday performance. Shy of a bomb maybe, but that’d get anyone running.”

“She’s starting early. It’s what…nine?”

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Serafina remarks with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Must have been fun last night for you to sleep in that much.”

Fun, yeah. Skipping over her, I move in front of Lev and toss him my phone with the Maps app open. “Put in her studio’s address. I’ll go pick her up.”

His brow lifts, considering, before shrugging and retrieving the device. “You must enjoy pain.” After he returns my cell, he types on his. “There, I’ve remotely unlocked the garage. Keys are hanging on the wall. Take the car last in the row on the left. Don’t tell her I gave you those directions, and don’t piss her off. She might very well kill you. Good luck.”

“Won’t need luck. I have charm.”

Serafina snorts into her drink. “Keep saying idiotic lines like that, and you’ll definitely need it.”

I turn away from them to head for the foyer, and then the front door. As I’m opening it, I hear Lev mutter, “She’ll eat him up and spit him out for dinner if he doesn’t give up soon.”

That’s what I’m counting on.