Runaway Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance (Made of Mayhem Duet Book 2)
Runaway Queen: Chapter 22

I left for New York at first light. Leaving Sofia sleeping, smelling like me, unguarded, her head on my shoulder, had been nearly too difficult, but I’d had gotten a message I couldn’t ignore.

Overnight, my world had changed. I had to be ready for it. For so long, I was the man whose mother’s love was measured by the sound of the rope swaying and Irina’s lifeless feet hanging above me. Last night, I had learned of another kind of motherly love, one so different, I’d never even imagined it was possible.

Sofia De Sanctis had turned her back on her rich, privileged life, and everyone and everything she knew, to protect our son. My son. She had let me torture her, bury her alive, and chase her down in the woods like a demon, to protect our son. She was no longer just the woman I loved and my obsession. She was something else entirely. Something so high above me, I could only worship at her feet, and I would do that, but first, I had to make sure I could protect my family.

I met old Artur in a Russian banya in Brighton Beach. The timing couldn’t have been better, as I needed a favor from him. It was time to see if his prowess with explosives was all he made it out to be.

“I didn’t know you lived in New York,” I said to the older man.

“Here, there, everywhere is home for the vory v zakone. I came to visit my brother’s widow and heard you got out. A happy coincidence.”

“You heard from who?” My frown deepened as Artur waved his hand vaguely.

“You think you can get out and not make waves. In this city, there is only one Nikolai Chernov. You are known, Niko. You should be more careful. You’re the kind of name that lesser men would love to test their mettle against.”

“They’re welcome to try.”

Artur let out a bark of laughter, slapping my bare shoulder. “Spoken like a man with nothing to lose.”

His words hit me in the gut. Was I still a man with nothing to lose? No. As soon as I’d known she might be alive, I’d had something to lose. Now, I had everything.

“Well, I don’t plan on hanging out in the Russian community, or New York even. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t dabble in bratva business with your brother? You’re just here for a visit?”

I considered my answer as we stripped off for the sauna. I picked up a small towel and wrapped it around my hips. Heading through the swinging double doors into the steamy, balsam-scented air, I breathed deeply, enjoying the heat.

“I don’t plan on staying.”

“Are you going traveling or looking for someone? The one who got away?”

Artur’s knowing tone sent me turning toward him. Unease rippled through me. I didn’t want anyone knowing that I’d found Sofia. Fuck, I didn’t want anyone knowing about Sofia, period. She was mine to do what I wanted with, when I wanted. I wouldn’t allow anyone to stand in my way.

Artur chuckled and dropped the subject, moving toward a wide wooden bench along the wall. He patted the space beside him. “Sit, Niko, don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to tell me your secrets. I want you to meet some people.”

Settling beside Artur, I peered into the steam. Meet some people? Here? I hadn’t imagined that the meeting I’d been waiting for would happen while I was naked in a sauna.

Shapes gradually shifted into view. There were three other men in the banya. Every single one a powerful-looking Russian, judging by the tattoos. I took stock of the ink, assessing the position of each man as I went. Stars on the shoulders and knees denoted rank, as did the epaulets of a general on each shoulder.

They were high up in the vory v zakone. This was my official introduction.

“Nikolai Viktorovich,” the one who sat in the middle said, his deep voice sinking through my bones.

I nodded toward them, knowing there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t walk out of this room alive.

“Artur, this is the man you think should be vor?” The same man spoke again.

Artur nodded beside me. “He is worthy of keeping the code. A man of honor, who understands our way of life. He would be a strong vor.”

“And what do you have to say about it, Nikolai Viktorovich?”

“I’ve never asked to be vor,” I started.

The man to the right tutted. “It is not something to be asked for, it is something to be bestowed. Knights are chosen by the kings. The question now is, are you worthy, like Artur Ivanovich believes you to be?”

“We’ve watched you, we are happy with your judgment. You conducted yourself with dignity in prison and upheld the code. Getting out early was your brother’s doing, and I wouldn’t say he cooperated with law enforcement, as much as corrupted it. For me, you deserve the marks of vor.”

The third man, silent until now, finally spoke. “Do you know the code of the vor?”

“I do.” The principles of the vory v zakone came naturally to me.

The three men exchanged glances, and the middle one slapped a hand to his bare knee.

“Very well, Nikolai Viktorovich. Your past speaks for itself, your conduct is worthy, and you aren’t eager for the title to be bestowed upon you, refusing to lie or barter for the honor. That is the mark of a man who can carry the title of vor with honor.”

Artur slapped a hand to my shoulder, grinning at me. “Welcome to the vory v zakone, Nikolai Viktorovich.”

The third man, the quiet one, uncovered a long black box that had been sitting on the bench beside him, and opened it, while another picked up a bottle of vodka from the floor.

“Kneel, Nikolai,” Artur urged.

I stood, forcing myself to walk to the middle of the steamy room and kneel. The three men who had passed judgment on me stood over me. One gripped the vodka, the other a crude, rudimentary ink gun.

“Do you plan to stay in New York?”

“No. I will leave to replace my own place.”

The men were quiet, considering my words.

“Vasily will do the honors of your tattoos. It’s his specialty,” the leader said. “I’m Sasha, this is Dima.”

I lowered my head as Dima raised the vodka bottle over the back of my neck, splashing the liquid on my skin, and then moved to my hands. Sterilizing the flesh for the needle.

“I’m honored,” I said grimly as Vasily brought the tattoo gun to my skin, the buzz filling my ear.

The familiar scratch of the needle filled my head as the other men relaxed their formal air and passed the bottle of vodka around. Artur sounded positively giddy. The old fuck had started to think of me as the son he’d never had in prison, and he seemed satisfied that he’d done his best for me. Being vory v zakone was a huge honor. It should provide me, and the entire Chernov bratva, with a heightened sense of security. Kirill would be pleased to have a vor for a brother. Personally? It meant the power to take over Edward Sloane’s business with ease, and whatever else that involved Russians in the area. It was what I needed to do to protect Sofia and Leo.

The tattoo gun droned, and vodka swam in my blood. The sauna air was making me dizzy, but I gritted my teeth and kept my position. I lost track of time as they inked their exclusive marks onto my skin.

“Your nickname in prison was the palach. It shall be your vor name as well. Welcome to the brotherhood, Nikolai Viktorovich Chernov: palach.”

The Tower was the same as I remembered it from the outside. The inside was a different story. A towering monolith in Manhattan, one of the hottest property zip codes in the city. Kirill met me at his front door, once I’d been through several rounds of security.

“Nice to see you’ve beefed up the security here. Before, just anyone could wander through,” I quipped. Of course, I was one of the worst offenders to abusing the former security at The Tower, as I’d killed many guards when I kidnapped Mallory seven years ago.

Kirill’s impassive face cracked a smile at that.

He pulled me close into a brotherly hug. It was an unprecedented move from him.

“What’s this? A show of affection? Don’t tell me having kids has made you soft.”

“You’ll see one day,” Kirill said, pulling back.

My eyes jerked to his, but he showed no sign that he was implying anything about Leo.

Inside, I noticed the changes to the penthouse. For starters, it was a lot bigger. Now, Kirill and Molly had taken up residence on the top two floors of the building, and a massive staircase connected them. When Kirill had lived here alone, it had been a soulless, sterile place. Now, I saw evidence of Molly everywhere, from the warm-colored curtains, to the soft chairs and art on the walls. Of course, there were bookcases in just about every room, and toys. Fucking toys everywhere.

“Kids! Come and meet your uncle Nikolai,” Molly shouted through the cavernous house. She hugged me under Kirill’s warning stare.

“Uncle? Aren’t you teaching them Russian?”

“Kirill is.” She grinned.

I looked at my brother and chuckled. “So no one is. I see dyadya has his work cut out for him.” While we were half brothers, with the happily deceased, powerful pakhan Viktor Chernov as our father, Kirill had never grown up in Russia.

I turned to see two small humans entering the room. I was curious about Kirill and Molly’s life, and my niece and nephew. My brother and I had made peace. Funnily enough, we got on better than ever with one of us incarcerated. Most of all, we had broken Viktor’s legacy, and every day we didn’t try to kill each other, we defied him.

“Are you our uncle?” the bigger one said. The girl, Kira.

I smiled at her. I knew what I looked like these days, with my wild eyes, shaved head, and even more tattoos than ever. I was also hardened in a way I hadn’t been before prison. Seven years had only made me more unstoppable, and the aura of danger that surrounded me couldn’t be mistaken.

Despite that, Kira approached and stuck out a little hand. Her tiny nails had glittery pink polish on them. I swore I’d never seen anything as small and perfectly formed.

“Rad vstreche, Dyadya,” she said, her accent passable.

“A ty,” I responded. “If you ever want to practice speaking Russian with someone, I’m your man,” I told her.

She nodded, shaking my hand with a serious expression.

She jerked her head toward her little brother. “This is Ruslan. He’s shy.”

“Is he? That’s all right, it’s okay to be shy sometimes,” I said quietly.

Crouched there on the floor, I watched the little boy peek out from behind his big sister. Then he emerged, one timid step after another. I marveled at how normal the children were. Untouched by the violence that had destroyed my life, and Kirill’s. Somehow, despite their father being pakhan of a powerful bratva, they still smiled with perfect innocence. That kind of innocence had to be preserved. As Ruslan approached, and solemnly put his hand in mine, shaking it with intense concentration, I vowed to myself that I’d help preserve it, any way I could. I’d make sure Leo also had the same kind of innocence. I could tell Sofia had fought hard to protect it, and so would I.

“Okay, now, I’m going to give your uncle some tea. Why don’t you two go and play,” Molly said.

“Can’t Dyadya Nikolai come with us to the playroom?” Kira challenged her mother. “I thought he was here to meet us, not you.”

“Miss Chernova, stop being such a handful and give me a minute. You’ll get him all to yourself soon,” Molly said, a stern look on her face, though her lips were twitching.

She and Kirill headed in the direction of the kitchen.

I got up to follow them, heading toward the distant clank of dishes. “Don’t tell me Olga is still the housekeeper here.”

Molly snorted, an elegant sound. “Just try and take away the best nanny I’ve ever had. She’s housekeeper supreme these days, and in charge of every single person, myself and Kirill included most days.”

“Nikolai Viktorovich,” a voice called to me as I entered the kitchen. Olga hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen her. She was standing at the kitchen island, her hands white with flour.

“Proshlo mnogo vremeni,” I said.

She smirked at me. “Dobryy den.”

“And for the idiots in the audience who can’t learn Russian no matter how hard they try?” Molly perched at the island and looked expectantly at me.

“She’s missed me,” I translated wrongly.

Olga huffed. “I’m glad to see prison hasn’t made you any more bearable.”

I looked at the pastries she was arranging on the baking tray. “Don’t tell me you’re making pelmeni?”

Olga shrugged and avoided my eyes.

I couldn’t stop my grin. “So, you did miss me, then.”

“You caused Kirill Viktorovich and Mallory so much worry. Of course, I’m glad you’re out, so they can stop thinking about you all the time.”

“Right, whatever you say,” I murmured and winked at her.

She huffed and bustled off.

Molly was laughing at the back and forth.

Kirill was standing on the balcony outside, and I went to join him, the wind instantly buffeting me. I peered over the high railing down at the city below. Central Park was a huge green square, outlined in gray city blocks.

“I was surprised by your call,” Kirill said, studying me.

“I was surprised that you answered.”

Kirill shrugged. “I’m glad you’re out.”

“I’m surprised you trust me around the kids. I got the impression that you didn’t.”

“Well, palach, your reputation in jail isn’t a secret. Once I heard you got your vor marks, however, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

Kirill’s face split into a rare smile. “You’ve decided to live.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. My brother had never minced his words, and it seemed he wasn’t about to start.

“You’re still in business with the De Sanctis family?”

“Reluctantly. After everything that went down, I wanted to end all deals, but once I start going back on my word, it isn’t worth shit, as you know.”

I nodded in agreement. He was right, of course. In our world, where there was no law greater than ourselves, a man’s word was more important than anything.

“Well, get ready to renegotiate your terms. They’ll be having a change of leadership soon.”

“Is that right?” Kirill raised an eyebrow at me. “Just make sure that killing Antonio doesn’t bring Renato down on my neck. I don’t want another bloodbath on my hands in my city.”

“Believe me, if anyone hates the fucker more than us, it might be him.”

A beat of silence, and then Kirill looked out at the city. His kingdom. “If you need me, I’m there. You know that. He’s taken too much from you to stand by. I want to bury him, I’ve just been waiting for you, and the right time.”

“Aw, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I mocked gently.

He gave me the finger.

“Very mature.”

“Will you stay in the city? A vor in the bratva would be a great strength.” Kirill changed the subject, knowing how our squabbles could devolve quickly.

“No. I can’t. I’m heading north, but I’ll be sure to visit.”

“Hmm, I know that look. Have you found someone to obsess over? I thought that was reserved for… her.”

I grinned at my brother. “Bratan, do I have a story to tell you. Grab a drink, pull up a chair. This one has a twist you’ll never see coming.”