Page 44 of Black Ledger

A low groan gathered in my chest. Kaz was right. Aleksandr would outlive us all just because he was that cruel and evil.

After a while, I settled into the range, picked out a compound bow, and began loosing arrows at targets… poorly, pretending to mind my own business. But the whole time, I listened.

They were negotiating trade deals, access to ports, rail, and shipping routes, but the Chicago boss was trying to price-gouge Severin into a bad deal.

The Chicago boss was young for a Bratva brigadier, probably only thirty, but he carried himself as if he were much older.

He was young, but he was a force at the bargaining table.

Severin didn’t seem concerned. He was levelheaded, steady, and patient. I would have been none of those things, which was why I was not a boss.

I liked screens, patterns, and technology. I hated dealing with people. People were so… frustrating.

Eventually, the Chicago boss said, “Why don’t we settle this with a little game?”

“Oh? What were you thinking?” Severin raised one manicured eyebrow slowly, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. This was what he wanted. What he’d been waiting for.

“If your little princess shoots better than my man, we’ll lower our percentage by half.”

There it was. The reason he’d dressed me like this. He was playing chess, but he had rigged the board.

Severin rubbed his chin and pretended to think deeply. “Which man?”

A wicked smile stretched across the mafia boss’s face. “I’ll even give you my worst shot. Sergei, come over here.”

A young man roughly our age walked over. He was scrawny and tall, like he hadn’t grown into his height yet.

“Best of six?” Severin asked.

“Perfect.”

I rested my bow over my shoulder and tentatively ambled over, still saying nothing. I hated talking for no reason, and there was nothing to say. I was his knight, and I would do my job.

Severin leaned in, his breath caressing my neck and his lips hovering over my ear. “Shoot poorly on the first and average on the second.”

I nodded as he stepped back.

“You’re going to do great,” he said with fake reassurance, squeezing my shoulder as if he were giving me a pep talk.

I felt the urge to shake him off, but I didn’t.

I really did not appreciate pretending to be bad at anything, or the fact that he was making me look bad in front of all these misogynistic assholes. But that was the game we played.

Yeah, I was definitely going to have resting murder face today.

I swung my bow off my shoulder and stared at Sergei.

“Ladies first,” he said in a thick Russian accent.

“No, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to let me go second,” I snapped.

That was probably a little too harsh.

“Fine, fine, pretty girl. I’ll go first.” And he did. He loosed his arrow quickly. His form was only okay.

He hit six points. We were shooting six arrows, and the highest score per arrow was ten—a bullseye. I needed to look mediocre while staying within range to win.

I swallowed, raised my bow, nocked my arrow, and loosed. I hit five points. “Oh, yay.” I pretended to cheer like the role required. “I got on the board.”