Throne of Power Page 2

“What is it, Ana?”

“It’s…” She shakes her head. “Nothing, Rai. Have a nice day.”

“Ana.” I speak in my no-nonsense tone that she knows no one should challenge. “You can either tell me now, or we can stand here all day until you do.”

She bites her bottom lip, peeking up at me from underneath her naturally thick lashes. That should mean she’s close to letting it out.

Ever since I was brought into the Vory world, I always thought I only had Dedushka, and that was enough considering he was the Bratva’s Pakhan.

But then, my great-uncle Sergei, Dedushka’s youngest brother, brought in Anastasia to live with us. The first time I met her, I was thirteen. She was only five years old. Back then, she looked up at me as if she saw the world, as if I were her savior from whatever life she used to live before.

We instantly became best friends—or more like I became her protector, as she’s too fragile to be out there in the world.

Fifteen years later, she still considers me the same way she did before.

I step closer to her, lower my bag to my side, and try to remove the sternness from my tone. Anastasia trusts me, but she also told me I can be scary—not toward her, but scary in general.

That’s the last thing I want my Ana to feel toward me, but if it’s to protect her, I won’t only be scary—I’ll blow the whole fucking world to smithereens.

I place a hand on her shoulder, stroking gently. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nods twice.

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

Anastasia bites her lower lip again. “You won’t be mad?”

Unlike most of the Vory who have a noticeable Russian accent, she speaks English in a perfect American accent, probably because I’ve been teaching her since we were young.

“I will never be mad at you.” I smile at her, which is possibly the warmest type of smile I can offer to anyone.

“Papa said…he said…”

“What?”

She gulps. “He said I need to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“You know.”

“Unless you tell me, I don’t, Nastyusha.” I use her Russian pet name since she responds better to that.

“F-for…marriage.”

“For what?” I snap, and she flinches, her shoulders turning rigid under my touch. I internally curse myself for frightening her and take several seconds to calm down. “Did he mention who he’s marrying you off to?”

She shakes her head once while staring at her flat shoes. “He just said I need to get ready. Does…does this mean I can’t continue my studies?”

Her voice breaks with her last sentence. Few things affect me this deeply, and Anastasia is definitely at the top of the list. Seeing her in pain is like having one of my limbs cut off.

I raise her chin and she stares up at me with a wretched expression. There are no tears because she was brought up to be the perfect Vor’s daughter from a young age.

For her, crying isn’t a weakness like I consider it. In Anastasia’s dictionary, tears aren’t ladylike and shouldn’t be shown in public.

The fact that she wants to express her sadness, but can’t, digs the knife deeper into me.

I force a smile, stroking her hair back. “You don’t need to get ready for anything. I’ll talk to Granduncle, and none of this will happen.”

Her expression lights up. “Really?”

“Have I ever made a promise and not kept it?”

A gentle spark invades her expression. “Never.”

“Go study and don’t worry about this. Since you have exams coming up, you don’t need to come to the company.”

“I want to.”

Ana has been interning at V Corp for almost a year now. She followed computer engineering, which everyone thinks is useless in our line of work. I’m the only one who encouraged her because it’s the thing she chose freely and without shackles. She’s a numbers genius and it would’ve been a waste if she didn’t put that talent to use.

“As you wish. Where’s Granduncle?”

“He’s in the dining room…but you might not want to go in there. Papa is having a meeting with the rest of the Vory.”

“Of course he is, and let me guess—Mikhail is in there?”

“Umm…yes.”

Why am I not surprised that Granduncle brought up the whole marriage thing when that pest was around?

“Go back to your studies, Ana. Don’t let any of this get to you.”

She hesitates, then blurts, “Be careful. You know they don’t like you there.”

“They will dislike me more after today.”

“Rai…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” I say to please her even though I’m already plotting a war.

She steps forward and hugs me. “Stay safe, Rayenka.”

Then she takes moderate steps up the stairs.

I’ve never liked my Russian pet name unless Anastasia says it. When I came to live with Dedushka, he insisted that my mother named me Rai and that it was in fact short for Raisa, a Russian name. He invented that whole story just so he could have a Russian pet name for me.

Since his death, only Anastasia ever calls me that anymore. Oh, and Granduncle Sergei when he’s not mad at me. Let’s just say, he’ll have no pet names for me today, because I’m fully prepared to ruin his meeting.

The one I wasn’t invited to—again.

After Dedushka’s death seven years ago, Ivan, Grandpa’s nephew whom he raised as his own son, wanted power so badly he attempted to kill not only me but also his own uncle, Sergei.

I went through hell and back, working in the background and arranging meetings with the security group, the support group, and the four brigadiers who are the working arm of the Vory. I even went as far as recruiting the powerful boyeviks, whom the brigadiers’ leaders trusted more than their own family.

Dedushka left me the black book that contains names of influential people the Vory deals with. He said whoever has that book is meant to rule. Needless to say, everyone in the brotherhood would’ve killed me before allowing a woman to reign over them.

It’s not that I wanted to, but Dedushka entrusted me with the family name. My mission in life is to protect my family’s honor. Just because I was born a woman, doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone stomp all over me.

But since I knew any resistance would get me, Ana, and Granduncle killed, I gave him the book. With that, Sergei Sokolov became the current Pakhan. The boss. The leader of the brotherhood.

At least on the surface.

Only he and I, along with our most loyal member of the elite group, know that Granduncle has lung cancer he’s been fighting for months.

The moment the rest of the elite group know, it’ll all be over. The Pakhan can’t be weak. He can’t lead the Vory if he can’t stand up straight.

They will remove him and then it will be an all-out war between the four brigadiers, the literal kings who bring money into the brotherhood. The leaders of the security and support group might join too. It will be wolves against wolves, and one thing is for certain—Anastasia and I will either be coerced to marry into their families or killed in the case of disobedience.

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