Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(77)

“I’m not discounting that. But in order to get him back, we need to be on the same page.”

“You mean you need her to be on your page,” he retorts.

I cock my head to the side. “Whose side are you on?”

His face is solemn as he answers, “Are there sides?”

I’m surprised Jax hasn’t come pouncing into the room to toss in his two cents. And then it hits me.

“Who’s outside with her?”

“Jax.” He sees me wince and adds, “It’s a good thing. He’s easy to talk to. Easier than you, at least.”

“Did you two draw straws to see which of you had to come talk to me and who had to talk to Willow?” I grumble.

“Yep. Guess who got the short one?”

I give him the middle finger. “I don’t love my Vors interfering in my marriage, ya know.”

Gaiman ignores that, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his legs. “Maybe you should consider her plan, Leo.”

“Did we not just establish that it’s reckless?”

“Yes, it’s reckless,” he agrees. “But it might work. Willow isn’t Ariel, but they’ll be together on the inside. That has to count for something.”

I clench the glass in my hand so hard I wonder if it will shatter. “You talk about her instincts, but what about mine? Sending her in there goes against every instinct I have. That has to count for something.”

“Of course it does,” Gaiman says with a nod. “You’re the don, and she’s your wife. But she’s also the key to the Mikhailov Bratva. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying this whole time?”

“I’m gonna go outside.” I leave Gaiman before I decide to do something reckless myself. He doesn’t stop me as I walk out the door.

As I pass by the living room window, I stop. Willow is working out next to Jax. He already has his shirt off, the bastard. Simultaneous push-ups. Down, up. Down, up. I watch for a good minute or two. Willow conducts herself capably. I see her arms start to tremble, her shoulders weaken, but she still keeps the pace.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

If there’s a metaphor about us in there somewhere, I choose to ignore it.

At last, Willow’s strength gives way and she collapses into the cold dirt. If there’s a metaphor in that, I ignore it just like the first.

Grinning, Jax offers her a hand up, but she slaps it away and swings her legs around to trap his ankles and bring him crashing to the ground next to her.

I can hear him laugh in surprise. Then they start sparring.

She’s a quick study, no doubt about that. Eager to learn. Actually, make that desperate to learn.

But more than anything, she’s determined. Her jaw is set, her brow lowered. She’s focused. Jax may be twice her size and a thousand times as experienced, but she’s in this fight to win it.

It won’t happen, of course. Jax isn’t one of my right-hand men for nothing. But the fact that she’s even trying makes me admire her all the more.

Jax feints to the side and kicks. Willow doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. She tries to dodge, but the kick catches her in the hip and sends her back onto the earth face-first.

The beast in me growls.

No one touches my woman.

I storm outside and onto the porch. Willow is already dusting herself off and pulling herself together, but the moment Jax catches sight of me, he pales and backs off.

“Hey, boss,” he says as I approach down the stairs. “I… I was just helping Willow train.”

“Training’s done,” I say firmly.

“Right. Gotcha. I’m out.”

“Wait, what?” Willow says, disappointment coloring her expression. “We just started. You said there was tons more you had to teach me.”

“I said training is fucking done,” I say, turning on her.

“Why?” she demands, putting her hands on her hips.

“I don’t have to have a reason.”

“Willow,” Jax says, in a low voice. “I’ve got shit to do and—”

“Bullshit!” she explodes at the both of us. “We’re training. Are you trying to protect me from your own men now, too?”

Jax hesitates, but I wave him off. He nods and slips away.

Willow plants herself in front of me and jabs me in the chest. “Why the hell are you playing the hero?” she asks. “There was nothing to save me from.”

“How about saving you from yourself?”

“Don’t give me that. You always aim the attention at me when it’s you who’s fucked up in the head. Go on then, tell me: what’s the real problem, Leo?”

I grab her hand and pull her towards me. She slams into my chest. “The problem is, no one touches what is mine,” I snarl.

“I’ve got news for you,” she spits back. “I. Am. Not. Yours.”

She breaks my hold, flips me off, and stalks away down the same path that Jax disappeared into. I take another route into the forest and cut her off at the pass.

She tries to reroute around me, but I slide over and cut her off. Her eyes gleam with irritation.

“You are infuriating, you know that?”

“I do,” I say. Then I duck down and kick her legs out from under her, just like she did to Jax.