Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(6)

Her expression falters. “W-what?”

“Drop the mask,” I repeat. “You have to play the part with him; I get it. But you don’t have to pretend with me.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her wavering. Her lower lip trembles for a second before she manages to regain control.

“If I drop the mask, I won’t be able to put it on again,” she says softly. “It’s been so long.”

I take a step towards her. She flinches.

“You’re nervous?” I ask in surprise. “Of me?”

“Sometimes, I wonder…”

“Yeah?”

“If I’m playing my part too well,” she finishes quietly.

I think back to that day in the warehouse. I still remember the way her nails had dug into Willow’s arm. I wanted to take her head off.

The fact that she was working for me didn’t even compute. She was his creature in that moment. It didn’t matter that I’d been the one to place her next to him.

“You’re convincing. I’ll give you that.”

“Are you doubting my loyalties, Leo?” She winces like the words pain her. “I have always been loyal to you. I have always been loyal to the Solovevs.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” she asks, genuine curiosity in her voice. “Because you’re looking at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Because right now, you’re Brittany,” I point out. “You’re the persona we created. The monster meant to seduce another monster. The woman I know, the woman I care for, her name is—”

“Don’t,” she says suddenly. “Please don’t. I can’t bear to hear it.”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of everything I lost.”

I nod. “Fine. You’ll stay Brit then. At least for now.”

“Will there ever be a later?”

“There will be,” I say firmly. “I swear to you. There will be an end to this nightmare. You’ll be back home soon—with me, where you belong.”

She looks at me. Then she turns towards the river. For a moment, I see the girl I used to know. The one I’d laughed with in another life.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she says, shifting back to business. “Everything went smoothly until the end.”

“What happened?”

“Anya happened.”

“Anya fucking Mikhailov,” I growl fiercely. “You’re sure it was her?”

She nods. “Apparently, she’s been casing the joint for days. I only found out after.”

“She’s got a good team.”

“She took the best men with her when she left,” Brit explains. “What happened tonight is enough proof: she’s not to be underestimated.”

“I never underestimated her,” I point out. “But I’m counting on her to underestimate me.”

Brit smiles. “Already planning something?”

“Always.”

She sighs. “He’s furious, you know?”

“Good.”

“The Silver Star alone would have been hard to lose. But the Manhattan Club as well? You’ve got some balls on you.”

I raise a brow. “You always knew that.”

“He’s a dangerous man when he’s angry, Leo.”

“That makes two of us.” Her features are ice cold, lifeless. But in her eyes, I see something else. “Has he hurt you?”

She tilts her chin down to hide her face. It’s a move I recognize from the old days. Back when our ambitions were born of more than just revenge. It reminds me, deep down, she’s still in there. Somewhere.

Whether she can ever come back out is a different story entirely.

“He never stops hurting me, Leo. The pain never leaves.” Her voice cracks. “It never will. It doesn’t matter how sweetly he talks to me or how gently he touches me in the moments between. It all just hurts.”

Her eyes glisten with tears I know she’ll never let herself shed.

“Listen to me,” I say softly. “If it’s getting too much for you, you don’t have to keep doing this. I’ll get you out.”

She’s shaking her head before I’m even done talking. “No,” she says firmly. “I’m going to see this through. I’m taking the motherfuckers down. I don’t care what it costs.”

“It might cost your life.”

“Is that even worth anything anymore?” she asks.

I should be pulling her out right now. The toll this is taking on her is obvious and devastating. But the call of revenge is too close and too sweet to resist. I still need her on the inside.

“It’s worth something to me.” I reach out and take her hand.

She stares at our entwined fingers. “What was I like… before all this?”

“You were happy.”

“Happy,” she scoffs. Her mouth contorts as it forms the word, like it tastes strange on her tongue. “It was a fantasy, wasn’t it? Right from the beginning. I should have known it couldn’t last.”

“I may not be able to give you happiness again. But maybe I can give you peace.”