Home > Queen of Thorns (Mice and Men #2)(9)

Queen of Thorns (Mice and Men #2)(9)
Author: Lana Sky

In this world? There is only violence and power, and it takes both to survive.

The proof of the first is written across my skin in various streaks of blood.

As for power? A symbol of my own appears before me, much like the angel I’d compared her to earlier. She must have climbed from the trunk, clinging to the side of the car for balance. It’s the only clue of instability she gives. Otherwise, with her head held high, blond hair streaming down her shoulders, she seems untouchable.

Murmurs of alarm go up from our audience at the sight of her, though. Bravery aside, she looks even worse now than she had before. A divine being marred by bruises and still reeking of lighter fluid.

“What the fuck?” Luciano snarls from behind me. “You couldn’t stop at shoving one girl into your trunk? Maybe you should go talk to the Saleris if trafficking is your thing.”

“And Antonio wasn’t into it?” I counter from over my shoulder. “Don’t tell me he drew the line there.”

“Antonio was a dumbass,” Luciano says. I turn to find him descending the steps, gun still drawn. “He thought he could take on the mafiya himself, but what makes you any better? From what I heard, you forfeited everything you have to Mischa without so much as a fucking whimper. Are we supposed to see you as some kind of savior now?”

“No,” I rasp, eyeing my battered hands. The blood on them speaks for itself. “I’m no one’s savior.”

“So, I repeat the question—why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” I say, letting my hands fall to my side. “We used to own this city—us. Mischa sits at the head of the table now, but in my opinion? He shouldn’t even have a fucking seat.”

“So what do you suggest?” Luciano counters, cocking his head skeptically. “We break into the man’s house and slaughter him in front of his children like you did Tony?”

I don’t even wince at the suggestion.

“No.” Sarcasm aside, that would be too easy. Nowhere near punishment enough for what he’s done. Mischa deserves so much more than that.

He should know the pain of reaching rock bottom with nothing to show for it. Not only that, but I want him to know that pain on a first name basis—Donatello Vanici.

“I don’t want to kill Mischa.” As the words leave my mouth, my gaze comes to rest over the slight figure before me, and I can’t resist a gnawing suspicion as to what she’s thinking. Does knowing that comfort her?

Her dark eyes watch me without a shred of emotion, and I turn away, ignoring her altogether.

“So, what do you want?” Luciano demands, sounding closer. I turn to find him behind me, but his gun is pointed at the ground. For now.

“What do I want?” I echo, tilting my head to eye the gray, colorless sky above. It’s only been a few hours, but the loss of Vin has already changed everything so damn much. The grief is like putting on glasses that rob the world of its beauty. Its laughter. Its joy.

Without it, the world reverts back to the game board Giovanni always taught me to see it as—territory ripe for exploitation.

“Antonio spoke of having allies,” I say, scoffing at the notion. One look at his supposed headquarters, and I doubt he’s cultivated much. However… “He would be an idiot to try and frame me without thinking he had an insurance policy. Either that, or he was being used as a puppet by someone with a greater interest. Though, with his track record, I don’t think he had many friends to pick from.”

Luciano’s frown proves it.

“Just the Saleris and the local MC,” he admits. “Seeing as how you killed Antonio, I think only one of those options is in play for you.”

Or neither. Another plan unfurls in my head. One so twisted, so wrong… I cringe in the face of it. Then I remember Vin and all the things playing on the right side of the law got me—nothing.

“I’ll let them come to me,” I finally say. “I have a feeling they might anyway once word gets out.”

“That doesn’t sound arrogant at all,” Luciano says with another scoff, but considering he doesn’t storm off, I already have his attention. “What are you even talking about? ‘Word’ about what?”

“That I have Mischa Stepanov’s daughter as leverage against the mafiya.”

I wait, and predictably Luciano swears. “Are you insane—”

“Not to mention that I still own the city’s port,” I say over him. “I’m willing to divvy up my share to anyone ready to collaborate.”

“You own it? I thought—”

“If you plan to kill me, you might as well do it now,” I suggest. “But if you boys are tired of playing games and want to win, then we have work to do.”

Silence lasts for barely a heartbeat before Luciano sighs. “With Antonio dead, it’s not like we have much of a fucking choice. So what is your plan?”

I inhale and exhale slowly before returning my attention to my only real leverage. If I wanted to find her cowering, she denies that fantasy.

She fucking smashes it into pieces, facing me boldly. I hate that her beauty draws my notice, even now. Not in a sexual way, either. The emotion swirling in my gut at the sight of her standing in defiance could be grim admiration. Respect, even.

Grown men have shown less resolve—but that doesn’t mean I won’t treat her the same way I’d treat anyone else who dared to challenge me.

But she’s not just anyone, a voice in my skull taunts.

I blink, cutting off any memories that threaten to replay. Shake my head. Blink again. The longer I stare at her, the more unfamiliar she seems.

Just a snake with the face of a ghost.

Someone to crush.

Someone to kill if it comes to that.

She’s nothing more than a pawn.

“Use one of your men to get a hold of Fabio Botelli. Now. Tell him to cancel any transfer of any assets to Mischa Stepanov. And inform him that he is no longer on my accounts,” I say.

“And then?”

“Then… I have information from Antonio that might come in handy.” I can’t resist running my hand along my pocket merely to feel the shape of the cell phone there. Hopefully, the son of a bitch was as stupid as he was greedy, and the device holds proof that he was the one behind the attack on the Stepanovs.

“Information?”

Looking up, I meet Luciano’s questioning stare with a shrug. “If it proves what I think it does, then we go to Mischa directly.”

If only to ask him one question—how much is his daughter’s life worth?

It takes a surprising amount of effort to turn off the small bit of my soul that might shy away from this line of thought. What might one woman go for on the black market these days? Add to that listing her hair, and those eyes…

I’d go so far as to assume she’d fetch a nice price, even without the caveat of being Mischa’s daughter.

Though you could always kill her now, a part of me warns.

My fingers twitch as I size her up. It would be so easy to grab her.

But I don’t.

Instead, I face Luciano and head for the front of the building. “Bring them inside.”

“And put them where?” the man snaps. “I know you haven’t been here in a while, but we don’t exactly keep a dungeon on this property.”

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