Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“He’s dead,” she says in a low voice.
“He is,” I confirm.
Her eyes narrow at me. “I would have shot him,” she says proudly. “You didn’t trust me to do it myself.”
“Of course I did,” I tell her. “It’s one thing to shoot a man who’s shooting at you. Shooting a man point-blank changes you. You don’t deserve to have to live with that.”
I see the moment she processes my words, and she finally just nods and takes a breath. I shift my stance, keeping my voice calm even though my pulse is still beating hard enough that it hurts.
“You’re free now,” I say. “Mikhail is dead. Your father’s contract is null and void. You can do whatever you want with your life. If you’re taking suggestions, though, I’d really like it if you came with me.”
She holds my gaze. She’s calculating, weighing my words against what’s just happened. This is the first time in her life she’s ever been given a choice.
“If I leave with you,” she says slowly, “It’s just for preservation.”
“Okay.”
“This war isn’t over,” she says confidently. “The struggle for power in Brooklyn is never going to end.”
“That’s true.” I nod
“If I leave with you, it’s not because I’m a prize you won by killing Mikhail. You don’t get to parade me around and act like I’m your property.”
My jaw tightens. “Of course you aren’t, Anya,” I tell her earnestly. “I didn’t save you because I think you’re a prize. I saved you because I love you.”
Her eyes soften for a fraction of a second, so small most people would miss it. Then she nods once, decisive in the way she always is when she finally chooses.
“Then I’ll come with you,” she says. “Just don’t get any ideas about what this means.”
I hold my hand out to her carefully. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a smile. “Now let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”
She steps forward and places her hand in mine. Her grip is firm, but I keep my promise. I don’t take it to mean anything more than survival. With Anya, I’ll take whatever I can get.
We move fast after that, because the room is still dangerous even with Mikhail dead. Sergei barks orders. My men clear a path. The cars are positioned to move immediately. We leave before the police get close enough to complicate things, and before any coward decides to take a shot for revenge.
Anya is quiet in the backseat, her hand resting over her abdomen. Her face stays neutral, but her eyes are distant. She is processing everything that’s just happened, and I don’t interrupt her. She’s can take as much time as she needs.
When we reach my home, I get her upstairs and into a secure room. This isn’t a safehouse. We aren’t hiding. This is my place in Brooklyn. The only home that actually feels anything like home me. Even so, it’s incredibly secure.
Guards patrol the grounds and hallways at every hour. There are security cameras almost everywhere. We’re safe from any retaliation that may come after tonight. Though, I don’t expect any noise. We killed anyone who mattered in the Grinkov empire, and I doubt any of his allies are going to rush in to incur my wrath.
My only objective over the next few weeks is to make her feel safe.
Grinkov’s structure fractures immediately, and everyone in Brooklyn moves to claim what they think they deserve. The smaller families that once asked me for help are now fully sufficient without his iron fist ruling over them. A few factions try to condemn the violence, but no one outright defies me.
I handle it the way my father taught me. I secure routes. I cut off weak crews. I buy loyalty where it can be bought and remove problems where it can’t. It takes time, of course.
Ivan Malenkov tries to get in my good graces after the wedding. He wants to see his daughter. He wants the opportunity to meet his grandchild.
I refuse without Anya’s express permission. She gets to call the shots on that aspect of her life. For now, she doesn’t want him anywhere near her, and that’s good enough for me.
She heals slowly. The physical wounds don’t take as much time as the psychological. She refuses the offer of a new nurse, but she does finally allow me to bring in a companion for her. Someone who can keep her company when I’m busy, who is also good at keeping an eye on her.
The pregnancy becomes more obvious by the week. Once the first trimester officially ends, she seems to get a lot of her old spark back. She isn’t combative anymore, though. She doesn’t have to be. This isn’t a prison and she can leave whenever she wants. Whatever is out there in the world for her is hers to take. Still, she decides to stay by my side.