Page 86 of Violent Pawn

If Vanessa’s on her way, Zeno will be distracted her entire trip, stealing my chance to talk to him. I need to now, not in days. Ever since slicing Petrov’s neck, this moment couldn’t have come sooner. The plane ride felt endless. Ten minutes is not enough time to get into it now either.

“We’ll talk later, ‘kay.” A dismissal, but my feet are frozen.

“No, Z, I really need to⁠—”

Ten minutes hadn’t passed before the very loud squeal of tires stops outside the warehouse. Zeno jerks up from his desk, brows melding. Unless Vanessa sped, how the fuck did she get here so fast?

Unless it’s not Vanessa.

Surely, with time zones, she didn’t figure it out yet. How many visitors does the older Petrov have that someone found him already?

Steps bound up the stairs, and my stomach physically sinks in on itself. Zeno crosses the office to open the door, only before he touches the knob, it’s violently shoved to the side as an extremely angry ballerina stalks in.

Fuck.

“Where. Is. He?” Her growl comes from the depths of Hell—and something tells me when she locates me, it’s exactly the place I’ll prefer to go.

She scans the room, spotting me in the corner being unsuccessful in my attempt to meld with the shadows.“You!”

There’s enough time to block her incoming punch, but like I deserved to die from alcohol poisoning in the months and years following the death of Giovanni Mancini, I too deserve this.

I used her. I like her, but I still used her. I gained her trust, slept with her, and stole the contact information needed.

I killed him.

After the first punch knocks my head to the side and leaves an ache that’ll surely bruise, the second to my stomach bends me forward with a groan that rearranges my insides, and then another to my nose. Zeno lunges across the room to hoist her away, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other attempts to control her arms. Her legs kick, her inhumane screech ear-bleedingly loud.

“Z, stop.”

Brows drawing together at my instruction, he slowly releases her, all for her to charge at me again. Using the wall, I straighten upright but keep my head averted, preparing for her next hit.

“Look at me, you fucking svolotsch’!”

I do, staring into the swirl of betrayal. Of a woman whose trust I shattered, even when it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Her chest heaves while her face is all angles and hard lines of rage. Of sharp glass I’ll never be permitted to touch again. A demoness in an angel’s body, with a soul to match for both. I lit the match that sent her careening back down, justifying her vengeance.

In between dense breaths, she bites out a speech—the precursor of the trial she so rightfully judges me on. “Most men manipulate to get their way. That’s a lesson I learned pretty early fucking on. They use women for their own gain and never think twice about her. From the minute we met—re-met—I didn’t like you. Not because of our history, but because something about you reminded me of them—the ones who used me. The pretty ones who believe they ran the world and, by extension, me. It was your looks, your confidence, your attitude. When you proved to be different, when you helped me to see beyond that belief, and I saw you for you, you went and destroyed it. Fucking obliterated. Manipulating motherfucking ass.” A long stream of Russian gets tacked onto it, none of it sounding positive.

She spits on the ground, redeveloping the space that’s been between us since the moment our lives brought us together.

I did that. I broke that trust and formed the cavern.

She whirls around with a growl and disappears from the room, rushing down the stairs, seemingly done. She’s yet to consider how I’m nowhere near done with her, though.

After her screaming, and previously Zeno’s at the soldier, the room is more silent than ever. It’s an impactful kind of silence that ricochets through to my soul. Zeno’s stare is as heavy but nowhere near what her hatred is. He cuts in front when I aim for the door, a hand shoving into my shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere. I’m going to make sure she’s alright before she sends the whole of the Bratva on our asses and I’m fighting against my own fiancée. Then you’re going to tell me what the fuck that was all about.”

The door bangs shut downstairs, but I elbow Zeno away, getting through the door first. “I need to deal with this.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the ground floor just as Anastasia slams her car door shut. I bolt across the lot, cutting in front, hands crashing onto the hood.

The window rolls down. The engine revs. Her voice carries from it. “Move or die, Nero. Do not test me.”

I round the car, reaching inside to hold the wheel steady, hoping it’s enough she remains until having the chance to explain. But my speech dies on my tongue as I see how badly I’ve fucked up.

When a tear slides down her cheek.