Page 198 of Fall Before Her Throne

“What do you mean?”

She wrapped some of her blonde hair around her finger while she leaned back in her chair. “You sat in my Kostya’s living room and argued with him, telling him off to his face. You fought back against human traffickers.” Her finger touched her cheek, a mirror of where my scar lived on mine. “You don’t shy away from hard work or struggle, Leona. You face it head on, you figure it out, and you fucking win.”

“I don’t know if I can do this without them, though,” I explained. My knee bounced under the table, and with a frustrated huff, I folded my legs beneath me in the chair. “Through all of that, I had my men by my side.”

Fallon snorted. “You think we need our men to make us strong? Fuck that. I’m a fucking badass because of who I am. My men support me, and they’ve sure as hell helped me grow, but I own Philadelphia because of me. Not them. The same is true for you.”

She was so right. I had fought tooth and nail to get here, and so had my men. Even if something went wrong, I was smart. I was fucking capable.

Willow leaned forward. “Be the strong woman you are, and the pieces will fall into place.”

The corner of my mouth pulled up. “You’re right.”

My men strengthened me, but I could stand on my own. Obi knew that. My men knew that. But Greco didn’t. And that would be his downfall. I’d make it his downfall.

“Okay,” I said, back straightening. “I can do this.”

Zoya grinned. “So, what’s the plan?”

Obi and Max thought Greco would believe I’d run from the city because I was scared. They wanted me to play into that. At the same time, Greco wouldn’t leave New York now that he thought he had it. I had to get back there so that I could lull him into a false sense of security and set him up for Badawi.

We had allies at our disposal, and we weren’t alone.

Makarov and the Bratva. Fallon and her men. Rossi. Chiara. Giulio and our mafia soldiers. Anton Felix and reinforcements.

“Get as many men as you can spare,” I said to Fallon. “Zoya, we need to get your brother’s help, too. For our plan to work, it’s basically a numbers game. That will be your job. For me? I need to sneak back into the city, and then I need to get caught.”

“How are you going to get in?” Fallon asked. “I could just drive us back in my sports car.”

I grinned. “I know exactly who to call.”

63

RYUJI

It took fucking forever, but we filed into our new home on cell block 3. All six of us.

Obi’s planning ensured that we stayed together as a group. Several guards avoided direct eye contact with us, as if they were in on something and didn’t want to admit it. This whole department ran on corruption and underhanded deals. Guilty motherfuckers.

An officer read off our cell assignments, but I barely listened. Instead, my eyes scanned through the prisoners already mingling around the block. I glanced from bunk to bunk, getting an idea of the space we had. Which locations would be the best to incite a fight? Where would the most chaos ensue?

With a sigh, I tossed my bedding down onto my assigned bunk.

This wasn’t good enough. We needed more people together in one spot.

I had to bide my time.

The next mealtime would have to do.

Calmly, I circled the block and watched each inmate inside with us. Most kept to their own groups, including my brothers. Ciel and Wynn spoke with Obi in low voices. Max and Cas sat on their bunks, talking. As much as I wanted to relax, I had work to do, cataloguing the weak points of each inmate I could see.

It took all fucking night. The other guys took turns sleeping, but not me. I sat with my back against the wall, hands over my chest, and I watched.

Finally, they called us to breakfast. The guards ordered us to line up single-file. One by one, we did.

I was silent and unassuming—the model of a perfect prisoner—while they herded us to the cafeteria. We passed through three locked gates while the officers worked in a careful dance to get us through the jail hallways without incident.

Little did they know the incident was about to happen.