VLAD (The V Games #1)(62)

My eyes track over the image staring back at me. It’s me. The sun lighting my face. There are colors inside me I’ve never seen before all captured in the version of me she must see. The brush strokes are delicate and precise. There’s a smile on my lips as I peek up through my lashes. It’s the expression I must have when I’m looking at her before devouring her.

It’s the me I always want to be.

“It’s beautiful, solntce moyo.”

“You’re beautiful, moye luna.”





The V Games…



So much has happened in a year.

My sister, I have learned through the Vetrovs, is swollen with Vlad’s child. A niece or a nephew. Part spawn of the devil and part angel. But still, half my sweet sister. Sorrow washes over me for all I have lost—the biggest loss being her.

How did I even end up here?

Hate surges through me like a monsoon.

Men.

Men are the reason.

Bad men.

Entitled fucking men who think they can do whatever the hell they want.

I lost everything because of men. Stripped of my power, my company, my dignity, my sister—my life.

They think I will die in The Games. I know it, and partly, I think my father would prefer it. Wipe the slate clean like the Vasiliev family did with poor Viktor. Those motherfuckers have another thing coming.

They will not end me.

I pat the hilt of a knife my sister had sent to me that’s tucked into the waistband of my pants under my shirt. It came wrapped under the guise of a pretty dress, a recent picture of my very pregnant sister, along with some scarves. My sister, although living with the enemy, has not forgotten me. She sent me the very item used to kill Anton. It’s been cleaned and sharpened, but I will use it to gut the monsters in The Games.

I will kill them all.

Well, all but one…

Living under the same roof as Vika has proven useful. She snaps and reveals truths in anger. Her tongue is like a pot of gold for someone collecting ammunition against the First Families.

They will all know my wrath.

Everyone who has ever crossed me will taste the steel of my blade.

“You don’t need to do this,” Irina says, grabbing my hand. I’m dragged from my hate-filled thirsty thoughts and regard my sister. I haven’t seen her since Vlad so crudely ripped me from his home and dropped me into that of another.

She’s beautiful.

Mature and elegant.

A queen in our world.

I’m torn between wishing her all the happiness and hoping her horrible husband dies a thousand deaths, leaving her and their child alone. Guilt, because I do still love my sister, prevails. I want her to be happy. She, of all people, deserves it.

“Let me talk to Vlad,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “Or Father. Maybe Veniamin. I’ll talk to them all.”

But it’s too late.

I’m here. It’s already been decided.

I will fight to the death in The Games.

If she only knew Vlad put this in motion many months ago and Father agreed to it.

Pain ripples in my chest.

For him.

Not Vlad.

Veniamin.

I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. I never meant to break him so badly.

But I did.

And this is my punishment.

I’m not referring to The Games, but to the crushing ache in my chest. The squeezing of my heart and deflation of my soul.

I broke him.

I broke me.

I broke us.

With a sad sigh, I stroke my fingers down Irina’s silky hair before pulling her to me and holding her tight. I love her so much, but my mind is a mess. My little shadow crept out from behind me and took everything that was supposed to be mine.

I don’t hate her for it. I couldn’t hate her ever. These actions led me to where my soul truly belonged.

To him.

To Veniamin.

If things hadn’t turned out the way they did, I would have never known real love and devotion that past few months. What I had with Anton was different. Confusing and wrong. It’s taken months and months of reflection to realize that. Anton came to me when I was just sixteen. Did things no man my father’s age should have done to a teen. I didn’t speak of it. Simply let him use my body because he swore he loved me and we were meant to be. I was such a stupid, stupid girl and fell for every manipulative word.

Ven, when I came to live with them, opened my eyes and helped me see. Made me realize the monster that was Anton. For a moment in time, I thought I’d finally found happiness. And then it all went to shit.

Glancing over my sister’s head as we hug, I search the room for Ven, but he isn’t here. He couldn’t even face me. Not even to say goodbye. I certainly don’t blame him.

“Diana,” Vas greets.

Irina pulls away as Vas tugs me into his arms. I allow it, but don’t hug him in return.

“Father asked me to give you this.” He hands me the family blade, our crest emblazoned on the hilt. “Bring his name honor,” he tells me.

I clutch the weapon by the blade, closing my palm around it and relishing the sting as it cuts into me. Irina gasps and steps back when my blood drips on her shoe.

I smack the weapon against Vas’s chest and sneer. “That’s the only blood I’ll be bleeding for this family. I’ll conquer The Games for me, no one else. He has no honor.”