Page 170 of Jace
It’s a long story that Mom and Axel uncovered. We all heard about it. We all became well aware that once we caught Roman, he fell in love with our Queen. He serves her as a soldier… and her sub.
That’s the part requiring brain bleach.
But I gotta hand it to Mom right now.
Roman is a handsome young buck, and Mom is a drop-dead dominatrix, proudly leading his strapping, inked body by a sub’s leather leash. It’s turning Ruslan into a limp cuckold.
He can’t face it. Can’t even look at Roman, who’s lifting my mother’s hand, kissing her royal ring, before he kneels beside her with his head bowed.
It’s karma with a kinky twist.
A cosmic victory for our mom.
None of his sons serves him.
So he focuses on Sasha. “Moya doch.” He calls her daughter. I catch him offering Russian words about home and love and forgiveness. I worked so hard to forget the language, but the sentiment is clear.
He’s desperate for his daughter.
“Net, otets.” Sasha stands beside Loch, shaking her head. In defiance, she switches to English. “No, Father. I am free with Mama. I stay here. Is my home. I have king.”
Every time Sasha says it, Axel narrows his eyes protectively. I wonder as well; is it her aspiration or an actuality?
Doesn’t matter right now; this is the opening. I see it in Ruslan’s eyes. Something about Sasha softens him.
“We’ll keep her safe.” My voice resonates, resolved. “Sasha will stay here. You know our mother will protect her. But we”—I point to the kings—“will avenge her. And you”—I glare—“will make it your final act for redemption.”
“I do not seek salvation, Jasha.” I catch it, how Ruslan softens toward me as well. “I was born without a soul.”
“You don’t believe that,” Sire counters. “I’ve seen you pray when you thought no one was watching. For what, I don’t care. But you know when you die, you will be damned or redeemed; it is your choice.”
“And you will choose to give us your soldiers,” I persuade. “You will tell them to help us find Sheremetev, to avenge our sister’s honor, and they will do so under the leadership of the new Pakhan.”
Out of the shadows steps Tariel, the Bratva’s most powerfulAvtoritet, a brigade leader. Tariel always had a tender spot for us. He abhorred the abuse we endured. Never hurt women and children: Ruslan broke the unwritten Mafia rule.
He had to have seen this coming. He has no heir. His sons will not follow the hierarchy, while Tariel is the most reveredandfeared choice.
This isn’t a mutiny; it’s a matter of fact. If Ruslan doesn’t appoint Tariel, the organization will fall into deadly disarray upon Ruslan’s death.
The kings trust Tariel; he did what he could for us. Ruslan trusts him; Tariel has been loyal to a bloody fault.
“We will give Tariel our blessing,” Axel offers, his lips curling to say it, but he knows it’s the wisest way, the way Axel’s son stays alive. “Your sons,” he concedes to Ruslan, “all of us, will pledge our loyalty to the new Pakhan.”
Ruslan demands, “Inmyname, you will pledge to Tariel.”
It’s bold. Offensive. Spitting on every scar he’s put on his sons’ bodies, our mother’s too.
It would signal we were loyal to Ruslan all along.
“You want us to pledge in your name?” I berate. “You want the honor? The redemption? Then fucking beg for our forgiveness. Get on your knees and apologize to our mother. Say you’re sorry for the scars you put on her and my brothers. For the hell you put us through. You know what you did. You close your eyes at night, and it haunts your soul.”
Vivian squeezes my hand.
I’m fearless with her support, lionhearted in my pursuit. Every queen in here bolsters their king.
In the face of the truth, Ruslan’s stoic. It may shame his soul, but he won’t kneel. He’s trying to stare down The Queen, but she won’t cower either.
It’s another part of my mind’s story, making Destiny laugh.
