Page 119 of Jace
Holding Vivian’s hand, I sit on one of the velvet sofas in my mom’s office and know I’m in trouble again.
It’s worth it.
Mom arches her brow at me. “I understand you have a captive inmybunker?”
“Yes, my Queen.”
Methodically, she taps a gold pen on her mahogany desk. “Care to tell me who?”
“It’s Vivian’s ex. We needed to interrogate him to make sure we’ve secured all the copies of that video. And we did, and now Viv has his phone, the final copy, so mission complete.”
I love Vivian too much not to give her that phone or to ever need to see the image that was stolen from her.
All that matters is she has her power back.
She tucked it into her camera bag and didn’t even check it. She just gave me a deep kiss with the taste of our love on her lips.
It’s all I need.
Mom keeps tapping her pen. “Care to tell me how that criminal got there when it wasn’tourmen who picked him up?”
Nick and Zar sit on the sofa opposite us. Zar’s resting his shoes on the ottoman. He’s relaxed and smirking, amused to see me squirm, while Nick shakes his head at me.
“Dumb fucker, told you this would happen,” is written all over my little brother’s face.
Vivian raises her hand. Like my mom’s a teacher and this is middle school detention. Not the escaped wife of the Bratva Pakhan, schooling her sons on playing with the Mafia boss. “Ma’am, please don’t be mad at him. Jace did it for me; it’s my fault.”
“I know he did, dear.” Mom softens her tone toward Vivian. “And when it comes to my kings, I’ve raised them to take care of their queens. It’s not your fault.”
Mom narrows her sapphire eyes at me. “But when it comes to my sons and the devil who thinks he’s their father, I told them never to stir up shit unless they’re willing to lick the spoon.” She slams her jeweled hand on her desk. “What in the Sam Hill were you thinking, Jace Oliver Ryan, letting him help you on a mission?”
“It’s part of my plan.”
She points at me. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, son. I can smell it a mile away.”
“What isbullshitter?” Sasha asks, sitting in the amethyst velvet chair by the sofas.
Usually, our mother sits there for our meetings. But now, this feels right: The Queen, reigning behind her desk and her daughter, learning to fill her seat.
“A bull is a male cow,” Nick answers our sister. “And shit is what comes out of your ass and Jace’s mouth when he thinks our father will submit to us.”
Pensively, Sasha nods. She understands our family politics perfectly. It’s English that takes her a moment, but she’s catching on fast.
“That man doesn’t follow plans; he fills graves.” Mom leans back in her leather chair. “And I didn’t raise fools to believe otherwise.”
“Exactly,” I affirm, “and that’s my plan. Ruslan thinks I’m working with him, when really I’m luring him into a meeting where he’ll agree to step down and let a new Pakhan lead. He knows he’s dying, and now all he wants is to feel like his sons and daughter give a shit. That’s my plan, to give him peace so we can have it.”
I let go of Vivian’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulder. To hold on to my future and let go of my past. “You didn’t raise fools, Mom. You raised seven sons to be better men than him, and we are. We don’t hate; we avenge. Because soon, he’ll be dead, and we’ll be free of him without even firing a shot.”
There’s no surrender in my mother’s regal eyes. Power is in her DNA. A true queen never lowers herself to a man’s level. She rises above it.
Our mom knows I’m right. She taught us that hatred is for the losers. Love goes to the victors.
And our victory is right here, a circle of loving kings and queens, almost complete.
“We have everything we need,” I continue respectfully. “We’ll have the honor of initiating our final queen. Then, we’ll have our last meeting with him, where we’ll stand as a united front—together. Not as his, but as yours.”
I want this for our mother, my father on his knees for her, but she’s not focused on herself.
