Page 92 of Violent Pawn

There’s no fixing the hatred she wore as a shield.

“She wants nothing to do with me. To explain, she’d have to let me get close enough. Besides, it’ll make little difference. Did you hear all of what she yelled?”

“Most, not all.”

I drop onto the bed behind me, crossing my legs at the ankle to keep myself steady. “She’s pissed at me for stealing what should have been hers—theirs. I guess he did…things to them. Made their teenage life hell.” Since he didn’t hear everything, I won’t go into their story. “I’ll skip the wedding, Z.”

His head snaps up. “I’m pissed, and this is a goddamn mess, but you’re still my best friend. She’s agreed to go through the ceremony, but besides that, she wants nothing to do with you.”

My insides physically flinch. “I can do that.” Because admitting to him that I don’t plan on doing so won’t end well for me, not after all this.

“Use that wedding to your advantage, Nero.”

“Yeah.” As emotions creep up again, I wipe my face, trying to erase them. They’re pointless and will get me nowhere. “Yeah. I fucked up so badly.”

“You did. You really liked her?”

“I think I might have been falling for her.”

It’s silent between us again until Zeno steps over broken glass. “Shower. Clean all this up. We’ll figure it out. Thanks for telling me.” He opens the door after nudging more clothes away from it, and then stops, hand on the doorframe. “Look…of course, I miss Padre, but maybe this was for the best. If Ursin had never killed him, I wouldn’t have been after the Bratva, which means I’d never have met Vanessa. There isn’t a future I’ll accept that she isn’t by my side. So, what I’m saying is, maybe this was a good thing. I’d trade my father for my fiancée any day.”

Only when he’s gone, those final statements lingering like a hammer into the hangover from hell, do I let myself slide to the floor again. I reach for my phone and do the one thing that won’t work, but at the moment, it’s all I got.

I dial her number.

The call rings and rings and rings until the sound echoes through my empty heart. Her voicemail picks up, so I hang up because the electronic voice isn’t what I need.

Fucking damn it, more than alcohol, I need Anastasia.

More than life and air and oxygen, I need my Petrov back.

45

ANASTASIA

Nero

I’m sorry. It’s not good enough, I know. It’ll never be good enough.

I’d like to explain in person, but I understand why you won’t let me. But I HAVE to say this. My reason is much less important than yours, and this isn’t meant to change your mind. I want you to know my actions weren’t random.

Ursin Volkov once gave the order for me to kidnap you from Poland. It’s why I was there. I never wanted to, and then we met, and I couldn’t. Not knowing your life would have been hell. Knowing it might lead to your death.

When I returned, Z’s father had been killed by Volkov. I believed it was my fault. That I fucked up by not taking you. If I did, it would have given them bargaining tools. Maybe Z’s father wouldn’t have been at the bar that night. I had no regrets that it kept YOU safe but blamed myself.

I started drinking to resolve my conscience. Us being at war helped. It kept the hate alive. Until Z and V fell in love. Then you all were in my life, and I had no one but myself to hate. I thought if I could tell Z the truth, I’d stop drinking, stop hating myself. If I could kill all the old Elite members, there’d be proof of my attempts.

Your father was the only one left, and I took his information from your phone that night, sì. I felt sick doing it, but there was only one path. Or so I thought.

I didn’t know your situation, and it makes everything so much fucking worse. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I vow to spend the rest of our lives working for it. I care for you a lot and never wanted to do this. Never wanted to hurt you like this. I went too far—was in too deep. I saw a way free from the bottle, but all I did was make it worse.

You feel used and have every right to. I get it. But know, I didn’t sleep with you for revenge. For months, I’ve been getting close because I wanted to. I wouldn’t have come to your show if I didn’t. Wouldn’t have brought you to meet my padre if I didn’t mean it. If you believe nothing else, at least believe my feelings for you.

I’ll wait forever for your response. If forever happens after our deaths, I’ll still be grateful.

When I was sixteen, Nero and I met for the first time. He saved me.

Eleven years later, we met again, in three different instances, all at the most unexpected of times. Each one ended, unsure if it’d be the last.