Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(56)

I’m sick of talking about it, anyway. The blame game solves nothing. It’s time for action. For violence.

It’s time for what I do best.

“What have you got for me?” I ask Gaiman.

He straightens up and clears his throat. “I had a team follow Anya’s tracks out of the city, but we lost her about two miles out. She’s probably in one of her safehouses somewhere, hiding.”

“Find her,” I say. “It’s about time we spoke face to face.”

Gaiman looks wary. “It might take a while. She’s no slouch. She knows how to hide, how to cover her—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck,” I interrupt harshly. “When I ask you to do something, I don’t want to hear excuses. I want results. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Gaiman says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He’s about to leave the office when the door cracks open. “Boss?”

“Connor,” I say to the young guard. “What is it?”

“It’s… um… Mrs. Solovev, sir,” he says uncertainly. “She’s banging on the door. Says she needs to speak to you.”

I snort. “Ignore it. And next time, don’t waste my time with that shit.”

His eyes dart around the room. There’s clearly something else he hasn’t told me yet, but he’s trying to determine just how important that information is.

Jax moves forward. “You heard him. Get out.”

“Wait,” I say. My instincts are prickling. “What else did she say?”

He looks relieved that I’ve asked. “She says she knows where to find her mother.”





23





WILLOW





Pasha clings to my breast but he refuses to suckle. “He’s not latching on,” I whisper. “Come on, little man. Just drink. Please?”

“It won’t matter even if he latches on,” Anya points out. “You don’t have milk.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t breastfeed me?”

She looks almost embarrassed that I would even think to ask the question. “Of course not.”

“How old was I when you gave me up?”

“A month,” she says.

“You could have breastfed me until then.”

“But I didn’t want to,” she says curtly. “That’s all there is to it.”

I focus on my son in order to keep my resentment from spilling out. She adjusts in the chair, and I can feel her eyes on me.

“You’re expecting more from me than I can give, Viktoria,” she remarks. “I was not meant to be a mother. That was one of the reasons I gave you up.”

I laugh bitterly. “That may be the first honest thing you’ve said to me in a while.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

I shrug. “Just telling you how I feel.”

She sighs and crosses her legs. “That’s the one thing I regret about letting you go: so many fucking feelings. They formed you in their image, and that image was weak.”

“If you’re talking about my parents, they’re the best people I know.”

“They are weak. They think feelings matter. They think that’s how you decide things—how you feel about them. Pah! Pathetic.”

“Some would call that love.”

She snorts, and her eyes dance with irritation. “They didn’t approve of the man you were with. And what did they do? They said their piece and that was it. They couldn’t stop you from making a choice they knew was wrong.”

“What would you have done?” I ask impatiently.

“I would have gotten rid of him.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

She nods. “Why would I joke?”

“You realize that your father killed the man you claim to have loved,” I point out. “And you hate him for it.”

Anya sighs. “What I’m saying has nothing to do with Mattias. It’s about control, Viktoria. He tried to control my life when it was not his to control. I needed to take back power. I needed to show him that he couldn’t interfere in my life.”

I stare at her for a long time, wondering how we could be related. “I don’t understand you.”

“You will,” she says. “When everything you love is burning.”

“Jesus…”

“You think we’re on vacation here?” she asks bluntly. “We’re not hiding out, Viktoria. We’re preparing. They’ll come for us. And when they do, we need to be ready.”

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“My name is Willow.”

“Do you know why they want you?” she asks angrily.

I sigh. “I don’t want to do this again.”

“Too damn bad. Say it.”

“They’re coming for my name,” I recite. “And everything that comes with it.”

Anya nods. “Exactly. It’s the most valuable thing about you. So you might as well own it. Because you very well could end up dying because of it.”