Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Hitting, punching, talking, being hit, being punched, being cussed out nonstop.
Well, fuck me.
Keeping the cigarette in my mouth, I flip over and do some push-ups, clapping my palms in between. This rhythm dulls the electricity to a spasm.
A throb.
A flare, maybe.
Cy releases a long breath. “At this rate, you’ll go home in a body cast.”
“Not happening,” I speak around the cigarette, “you know how Mom worries and Alina cries whenever I get hurt.”
“Then put more of an effort into this camp.”
“I’m putting in effort.”
“Fighting Niko and taunting Vaughn every chance you get is not effort.”
I pause and tilt my head to the side. “No?”
“You’re only hurting your case by going against a perfectly groomed mafia heir. He’s already proved to be superior to you in every aspect.”
I jump up, drag the cigarette from my lips, and put up a hand. “Not every aspect. I’m a better shooter, and he can’t win against me in a fistfight.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, and he got punished for the first time with me.” I waggle my brows. “I’ll punch the shit out of him when we’re in the forest… Speaking of which, I should work out and hit the showers before we take off. Wanna join?”
“No, thanks. Just…” He runs a hand over his face, looking older than the old man Danil. I mean, Danil isn’t that old, but he acts as if he’s ancient. Same with Cy. Got some telepathy thing going on between them.
Danil should’ve been influenced by me, just saying.
“Vaughn goes by the book,” Cy says.
“And?”
“And he’s predictable. He won’t cause a ruckus, wouldn’t break rules he doesn’t have to. He walks around like someone who already has the weight of becoming Pakhan on his shoulders. He’s so mellowed out and levelheaded because he has to be. He’s the Kirill Morozov’s son, after all, and someone like Vaughn will do everything in his power to live up to his father’s legacy.”
“I still don’t see why you’re bleeding my ears with nonsense. He’s such a golden boy and barely Russian, what does that have to do with me…except that I want to humiliate him? Will totally fight him and win—”
“Yuliy,” Cy cuts me off. “Focus. He can be an asset, not an enemy. The New York Bratva are different from back home. You have a rare chance to forge a bond with him and use it in the future when you need it the most. Namely, when you’ll no longer be satisfied with being number two.”
“Me? A bond with Vaughn? I’d rather punch him.”
“Would punching him help you someday?”
“No, but it’ll feel good.”
He shakes his head. “Just think about it.”
“I don’t do that. You do it for me.”
“We’re all alone. You don’t have to pretend to be clueless.”
I lift a shoulder and leave the room so he’ll stop bitching.
I swear to fuck, Cy has personally chosen to become the nagger-in-chief of my life, talking and whining and warning.
If they could all shut up, I’d be having the best time ever.
Minus the hitting.
And the facade.
And my entire existence, really.
But hey, Cy, Mom, and Alina are the exceptions. Mom and Alina are the reasons I’ve survived thus far, and Cy is my bro.
Doesn’t matter that we’re not actually brothers.
Cy’s dad had some sort of an empire, similar to the empire my dad married my mother for—to get a piece of the business and inherit my dedushka’s power.
Snuffed my mother’s light in the process.
But anyway, Cy being orphaned and fostered by Dad wasn’t a coincidence and definitely wasn’t done out of the goodness of my father’s heart, if you can’t tell.
Yaroslav only cares about someone when they have a purpose.
Mom, Alina, and Cy.
Me? Let’s say he’d exchange me with one of my older brothers the first chance he gets.
If only they weren’t illegitimate children.
And if only he weren’t so set in old rules and traditional to the point of extremism.
So he’s ended up with me—his only legitimate male heir.
The wrong one.
My brothers would make better heirs than I, but they’ll never be allowed to, and I can’t give them the chance, because they’re like those tyrant kings from ancient empires.
The moment they take over, they’ll murder all eligible heirs to snub resistance at the source.
Well, good luck wiping me out. I’m a roach no one can get rid of.
But I have this grand plan only Cy is aware of, which includes me building some connections. Now, I’m not one for plans. You ask me about strategies, and I’ll pretend to be an airhead with frat-boy tendencies.
You know, a hopeless idiot, as my dad loves to call me.
But this one plan? I’ll carry it out as if my life depends on it.
Actually, my life does depend on it, and so does Alya’s and my mom’s, so it kind of needs to succeed.
Has to succeed.
It’ll take years, but I’m nothing short of persistent.