Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) by Rina Kent

She’s nothing like the Rai who used to run all over the place and bug Nikolai so he would come out with her to the garden, or the Rai who used to pester Vladimir and me so we would teach her how to shoot.

It’s like the girl inside was taken away and this frigid woman was put in on her behalf.

Her eyes widen when they meet mine, though. It’s the only reaction she shows in her mute state, and it’s the only one I need.

There’s always been something mystical about Rai’s eyes. They’re blue, but not quite. There are situations where they darken like the sea in the middle of the storm, and there are times where they lighten to a clear summer sky. Then, there are instances like now where they’re caught in the middle, not sure if they want to wreak havoc or simply let it go.

Slowly, the widening disappears and the blue of her eyes turns pitch-black. I smile to myself. Of course, Rai wouldn’t choose to let go. She’s the epitome of determination and infuriating stubbornness.

Her Russian half always gets the better of her. It doesn’t matter that she spent the first twelve years of her life with her American father. The moment she joined her grandfather, she shed away the person from the past and completely embraced this lifestyle.

“What are you doing here?” It’s Damien who asks first, with subtle aggression. “You escaped the Bratva when you knew the punishment.” He stands up and points a gun at my chest. “If you came to your death with your own feet, I’m happy to grant you your wish.”

Igor stands up and slides in front of me, blocking Damien’s gun. My ‘father’ is old and has a bad knee that bothers him in the winters and when it rains—as he used to complain to Nikolai—but he’s tall and broad with a white beard that he keeps trimmed. Igor might not be the most famous king—mainly because Damien is an attention whore—but he has the charisma and the critical mind that has kept him in a position of power for decades.

He’s the best at not only picking his battles, but also at winning them. In a way, he’s the best ally to have in the Bratva. The others are elusive as fuck.

“Kyle is my son. You are not allowed to touch him.”

“Just because he’s your son, doesn’t mean he’s exempt from the rules.” It’s Rai who speaks in her detached, cold tone. “Betraying the brotherhood is punishable by death.”

Well, is that an ouch moment, or what? Even though I expected this reaction from all of them, for some reason, I never thought Rai would voice her thoughts concerning me this directly.

“If you hurt a hair on his head,” Igor says to Damien, “I hope you’re ready for an internal war.”

“There will be no internal war,” Sergei chimes in.

“You heard him,” I whisper to Damien. “So how about you sit the fuck down?”

He glares at me, his finger pressing on the trigger. Honestly? He’s so bloody unpredictable he might actually shoot me right here and now. Anything with the word ‘war’ in it is fun and games to Damien instead of a threat. He gets off on the high more than anyone else in this room.

Aside from me, of course.

“Sit down, Damien,” Sergei orders.

Damien complies, begrudgingly hiding his gun away, because if he keeps it out, it’s disrespectful to the Pakhan.

Igor remains by my side, as if he suspects one of the others will stand and repeat Damien’s show.

My gaze slides to Rai, who’s glaring at me with malice so deep, as if I murdered her family and ate their remains.

Anger is good. Anger will keep her on her toes around me, which is exactly what she needs to do.

“Kyle,” Sergei calls my name.

I face him with a smile. “Yes, Pakhan.”

“I’m not your Pakhan.”

“Yet?” I grin.

His grim expression remains the same. “You have one chance to explain yourself. Use it well.”

“Hmm, where do we start?” I pretend to be deep in thought. “When Nikolai brought me in, I was always an independent hitman, you know. I do clean hits, then go away until it’s time for the next job. It was freelance work. Technically, I didn’t belong to the Vory, and technically, I didn’t leave it.”

Damien curses me in Russian under his breath, and I pretend I don’t understand. “English, please. My Russian is bad as hell.”

“Where have you been?” Sergei asks.

“We looked a long time for you,” Kirill declares with his almost perfect American accent. He and Mikhail don’t want to get on Igor’s bad side; that’s why they’ve kept their mouths shut this entire time. It’s the bastard Damien who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone.

“I went on a discovery journey,” I say in a serene tone.

“A discovery journey?” Rai mutters through gritted teeth. “Are you making fun of us?”

“I really did go through it, Princess.” I wrap an arm around Igor’s shoulder. “I was looking for my family. Who knew he was exactly where I left them? It was such a coincidence that I was with the Bratva before I knew who my family was. I guess I take after my father unknowingly.”

“I’m curious,” Kirill muses. “How did you end up in England when you were young?”

“Ah, that. I lost my memories from childhood and was adopted by my assassin friends.” I motion at Adrian. “He knows my background; he’s the one who did a check on me before Nikolai recruited me.”