The Killer’s Vow by Aria R. Blue
Simon
Ifollow the scent of trouble.
Instead of trying to find Vera, I find her father’s enemies first. They knew about her presence the second she landed in Moscow.
Tapping into their devices took all of thirty seconds.
They’re all heading toward a private airport right now.
“This isn’t looking good,” Rebekah says, shoving my phone in my face.
I lift my head to keep my eyes on the road. “What does it show?”
“There are like fifty red dots on the screen and one green dot.”
I switch to the fifth gear and press my foot to the gas pedal, going even faster.
The green dot is Vera and her crew.
The red dots are all of the Original cars I hacked into.
Both the green dot and the red ones are headed in the same direction.
Vera must have figured out that her grandmother had been alive all this time.
It’s almost funny.
I knew everything about her life and her family, but I couldn’t see what was in front of my own eyes with Vlad.
Maybe I’ll laugh about it one day.
But today, I’m just going to grit my teeth at the memory and keep going.
I’m running red lights and taking my Aston Martin well over the speed limit. There’s only one thing on my mind.
There’s only one person my heart still beats for.
It will beat for her and only her until the day it stops beating. Even if she decides that she doesn’t want it.
“She just rescued her grandmother from a psychiatric facility, and they’re about to go back to America,” I explain to Rebekah. “It’s safer there.”
“And that sister of hers is still missing?” she asks.
About that.
I think I know what Inessa has been up to.
As we get closer to the private airport, I ask Rebekah to open the satellite image app on my phone.
“Why?” comes her default response.
“Just, please.”
She’s not used to being ordered around. But more overpowering than her ego is her curiosity.
She opens it and waits for further instructions.
I take a sharp U-turn and hit the gas pedal again.
“Search for any movement in the area. Cars and bikes both.”
She types into her phone. “We have sixty-two cars, one truck, and no bikes. The green dot is the truck.”
Interesting.
Vera’s vehicle of choice was a truck.
“Now go back to the tracking app,” I say. “And count all the red dots for me.”
She shoots me a murderous glare.
“It’s important, I swear,” I say.
She gets to work.
For someone who can kill a hundred grown men in less than a minute, she really takes her time with counting.
“I asked you to count, not memorize every street name in Moscow,” I say after what feels like a lifetime.
“Ugh, now I have to start over.”
It takes everything in me not to rip out the steering wheel.
She announces the number with triumph. “Fifty-two.”
Sixty-two cars are headed toward the airport, out of which fifty-two are enemy cars.
So ten other cars are headed in the same general direction.
“Narrow it down,” I say as a piece of information reveals itself to me. “Look for cabs.”
“There’s…just one.”
“Make that car our destination.”
Rebekah’s head snaps up. “What? Why?”
“You’ll find out.”
She punches things into my phone and then announces, “It’s two minutes away.”
We need to intercept that car.
With Rebekah’s directions, I go faster. The speed on the dash climbs higher and keeps on rising.
And I swerve directly in front of the cab, making it nearly wreck my Aston Martin.
Blue-gray eyes peek out at me from the back seat.
Eyes I would recognize anywhere. There’s so much of her sister in her.
I expect her to shrink in fear.
But she grins and gets out of the car.
“You found me,” Inessa says. “Well done.”
“I found you,” I say, leading her toward my car. “That’s Rebekah, the best assassin the world has ever seen. She’s on our side, so we’re good.”
Rebekah is gaping at her. “You’re the sister?”
“Yep,” Inessa says, popping the “p” at the end.
“I give up,” Rebekah says, throwing her hands in the air.
“She can’t drive,” I reply, as if that explains everything.
“When did you figure it out?” Inessa asks from the back as I resume driving toward the airport.
“Let’s just say that without a certain curly-haired distraction, I had some time to think.”
“What Vera did was very shitty,” Inessa says, looking out of the window and observing every little detail of everything that passes by. “I apologize on her behalf.”
“But you got what you wanted?” I ask.
She beams. “Yeah. I did.”
All this time, we had been searching for Inessa.
Our eyes remained forward when all we had to do was look back at the road behind us.
She’d been with us the whole time.
She was watching over her older sister and observing our every move. So much so that she could see the knives aimed at our backs before we did.
The clues were obvious.
The murder of the bounty hunter in Disney World. The red ‘X’ spray-painted over the hotel door, warning us of Rebekah’s presence. The way Lion ran away from the Mexican cartel’s compound.
He ran to the scent he knew and missed—toward Inessa Reznikova.
“And the Luigi you claimed to have a crush on?” I ask her. It was the one clue we were chasing.
“There was no Luigi,” Inessa says simply. “I made him up.”
“I’m confused. Can somebody explain this to me, please?” Rebekah asks. “I know about your grandmother’s resurrection, but what’s your story?”
“Motivation,” Inessa says. “The only way my sister would get desperate was if something happened to me. I knew that me running away from home would propel her into motion.”
“So you never really ran away in the first place?” Rebekah asks.
While cleaning up Vlad’s apartment last night, I explained everything that had happened between Vera and me.
And now, Rebekah swears that the lives of the Reznikov women are better than any television drama she’s ever seen.
“I met a man who had a lot to say,” Inessa says.
“Is that man the youngest son of Mexican royalty?” I ask.
Milo Rivera—the rebel prince who does way too much cocaine.
Inessa nods. “I met him on the yacht. He got really philosophical about destiny and the choices we make. It made me think. And then it made me act.”
“Your sister’s going to kill you for everything you put her through,” I say.
“I had to,” she says. “The Vera I knew was slipping away, and I had to do something to have her back.”
A part of me hates Inessa for all the turmoil she put Vera through.
But out of that turmoil, a tigress emerged.
And her claws are sharper than ever.
* * *
Vera
“We’re not goingto make it,” Ivy says, shaking her head.
We’ve reached the airport.
But we weren’t the only ones.
G-Wagons filtered in after us like mutant beetles. And these cars only mean one thing here—Originals.
They found us.
This is the family my uncle joined. The dark side of the Bratva.
They’re loathsome men who deal with things like flesh trade and trafficking children. They live by no morals. They keep no family. Money is their wife, and greed is their mistress.
And they’re on the hunt for my blood.
Just when I thought we were about to get away with it, we got bitch-slapped by reality.
A hundred armed men surround our truck now, waiting for us to emerge.
Before we could react to their presence, the men attached an explosive device to our truck. If the truck moves, we’ll be shredded into ribbons.
“We have to try,” I breathe. “We put all of this effort in, and we can’t just give up now.”
“We can fight,” Ivy says. “But we won’t last long.”
“If we’re going to die, it won’t be at the hands of those bastards,” Babushka says, shaking her head and unfastening her necklace. It looks like a crystal pendant, but she unscrews the lid of the pendant and empties a power in her hand. “It will be fast.”
I know poison when I see it.
And I did not risk everything to die as a coward.
“I have children,” Luna gulps, looking up at me.
Her high has faded.
And the way she’s looking at me…it’s as if she’s waiting for me to do something. A rush of responsibility hits my chest.
These women trusted me.
I brought them into this.
And I’m going to get them out of this.
I look back out at the men. Standing among them is a man with closely cropped blond hair—Mikhail. The man who worked for my father before he was sentenced to a lifetime of prison in Russia.
He…he has a thing for me.
As I look into his dark eyes now, I remember that intensity.
I’d seen it as a child.
Mikhail never laid a finger on me, but his words and gaze make me recoil to this day.
Pretty bird.
The monsters of my childhood were never under the bed.
They were stalking the halls outside my bedroom, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Mikhail is a sick fuck, and my father might have suspected it all along.
It’s why Papa sent him to a Russian prison. As the Pakhan, killing one of his men wasn’t an option as it would affect the loyalty of his other men. So he framed him for false crimes and had him sent away.
I look down at my outfit.
The white blouse and the black pencil skirt.
I’ve always tried to hide. I wore baggy clothes to hide my body and wanted to make myself as unappealing as possible.
It was a defense.
But now, I’m on the offense.
I can’t hold a gun, but guns aren’t the only weapons.
My body. My mind. My poisons.
They can be used in any way that I want.
I rip my white blouse through the middle, sending buttons clattering everywhere. I tie it in a knot right under my breasts, letting the lace of my black bra show. I hike my skirt up so that it shows more leg.
And for a final touch, I tousle my hair.
“What...what are you doing?” Ivy asks.
“Fighting,” I say. And before they can stop me, I open the truck’s door and step out. I slam it shut behind me.
Nobody shoots at me.
Just as I expected.
I saunter toward Mikhail, forcing myself to wear a smirk as I walk toward him. He’s no Pakhan, but he’s one of the four kings who work directly under the main boss.
“Mikhail,” I say, coming to a stop in front of him.
“Vera.” His eyes are stuck on my chest.
Bratva perv.
“What do you want?” I ask him.
“I’m looking at it,” he says, his eyes dropping to my crotch as he splays his hand over his mouth.
“Let the women leave,” I say. “I’m what you wanted all along, right? That’s what this is all about. You wanted me killed for what my father did to you. Take me. And let them go.”
He lifts his gun and presses the muzzle to my forehead.
It dips down my face, nudging at my bottom lip.
The taste of metal infiltrates my mouth.
“Ah, but I didn’t count on my form of revenge turning so damn sweet,” he exhales. “Pretty birds look prettier when they’re fluttering about. The question is, how far are you willing to go for your family?”
I hold his gaze as his gun violates my body.
It slides down my neck now, grazing the column of my throat before reaching the valley of my breasts. I suck in a breath through my teeth, but I let him do what he wants to me. As long as he lets the others go…
“Drop,” he orders.
To my knees.
He wants my humiliation to occur in front of everybody.
Ivy is the one who opens fire with a battle cry.
It hits the man on Mikhail’s right.
Being the cunning snake he is, Mikhail twists me around and positions me in front of his body. His gun digs into my forehead.
With that first shot, all hell breaks loose.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see another car pulling into the airport grounds. But my attention immediately snags on the gunfire…coming from above.
I look up at the sky.
A ‘V’ of helicopters land at the same time. Armed men roll to the ground before the aircraft even land.
I recognize familiar faces.
Damian Innocenti, Nico Monte, and the rest of the crime families of Chicago. And…they brought help.
Tears flood my eyes when I see him.
Papa.
I’ve never seen such fury in his eyes.
And it’s directed not at me…but at the men behind me. He screams orders at his men. All of them charge into battle, running straight into the jaws of death.
The first line of men falls.
Mikhail presses his mouth against my ear.
“I’m not leaving this time without tasting you first, Vera,” he says.
“I was a child,” I spit back. “Do you have no shame?”
“You’re pretty bold for a woman who’s standing in front of the Grim Reaper,” he says, pressing his gun into my head. “And you’re right, I don’t have any shame. I’ll buy a heater for your thighs when I’m ready to have you. I bet your corpse will feel just as good.”
And I hear the unmistakable click of his gun’s safety.
I close my eyes and wait for darkness.
* * *
Simon
The Originals are blood-sucking parasites.
Not only do they dabble in the worst kinds of crimes but their conscience is also nonexistent.
And I’ve been indirectly working for them this whole time.
Vladimir was an Original.
He recruited unsuspecting children from the streets and trained them to become worker ants. His motivation was probably the one that corrupts most men—power.
He wanted a taste of power and all that it brought. This eventually led him to recruit his own son as a part of his sick operation as well.
This is the reason most of the people I killed belonged to criminal organizations.
The Originals were using assassins like me to eliminate their competition.
That fact in itself is enough to make me want to paint the soil red with Original blood.
But when I see that Mikhail fucker with his gun pressed up against my girl, I want to bring them all back to life just so I can kill them all over again.
She burns with the light of a thousand suns.
Vera is my only destination as I fling myself into the heart of chaos.
I slice every warm body that gets in my way.
Blood drenches my shirt, turning it black. The turmoil and love only make me stronger. The adrenaline turns me into a killing machine.
In this moment, I fully embody what my father made me.
The anger from his betrayal only acts as fuel.
She’s standing frozen in the middle of the battle. The war and destruction surround her like a dark, twisted flower. I see the movement of Mikhail’s finger over the trigger.
I knock the gun out of the fucker’s hand just in time.
At the same time, a sword comes swinging against Mikhail’s arm, cutting clean through his bicep. I glance up to find Damian Innocenti, Ivy’s husband. The man looks as pissed as he would for a sister.
He raises the sword to swing it at Mikhail's neck, but I’m the one to stop him.
“Wait.” And for the first time since I got here, I turn to her. The most precious thing to have ever happened to me. “Do you want to?”
Her gaze widens and shoots toward Damian.
He nods and holds his blade out toward her. “It started in blood. It ends in blood too.”
I watch as Vera takes the sword from him.
They have a shared history and mutual understanding. Vera once told me that she reminds Damian of someone who was once very close to him. When he looks at Vera, he sees that person living through her.
Vera glances up at me.
The uneasiness in her eyes makes me hit Mikhail’s temple with the back of my gun. He slumps forward, and Damian catches a fistful of his short hair.
His severed limb lies next to my feet.
“Do it, tigritsa moya.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes as she looks at Mikhail. “This is for stealing my innocence.”
Vera raises the sword and swings it right into his carotid artery, beheading him.
Her arms are trembling when she’s done.
I scoop her into my arms and carry her away from the battle. She’s done her part, and she doesn’t need to face any more of this.
I make eye contact with her papa on the way out.
The Originals won’t stand a chance now that they’re going against three of the most powerful crime families in the world.
Maxim Reznikov walks over toward us.
I put her back down on her feet.
“Papa, I—” Vera begins.
But he crushes her in a hug in the middle of the battlefield. “I don’t tell you this enough, but I love you, Vera. And I’m so, so sorry for everything I put you through.”
“I forgive you,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “I know now why you did what you did.”
Vera’s father kept trying to marry her off to other men because he was afraid of the Originals. It was only a matter of time before the Originals attacked the Reznikov family.
Marrying his eldest daughter into another powerful family would ensure her safety.
His actions were misguided, but his intentions were pure.
Maxim Reznikov looks at me and gives me a quick nod. “You did your job well, after all. As her bodyguard.”
“She saved my ass on more occasions than one,” I reply, looking over at her.
She meets my gaze almost shyly.
I nod at her father and take Vera away from the fight. I keep my gun close and my woman closer.
The Originals are losing.
After the fight, they’ll be given a warning.
If they fuck with the Reznikov’s, they’re declaring war against the entire East Coast of America. And some big chunks of Italy too.
I don’t stop walking until we’re away from all the chaos.
I hide her behind a tree.
She threads her fingers into my hair and looks up at me.
No words need to be exchanged. Every emotion she’s going through is evident on her expressive face.
“I’m sorry I drugged you, Simon.”
I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her scent—mystical forests and sunshine. “The world doesn’t make any sense without you in it, Vera.
She whimpers in reply and tugs down at my collar.
I whisper my vow against her lips. “I’m not letting you go ever again, tigritsa moya. Your name is already branded all over my heart. I belong to you now.”
“I’m yours too,” she says, pressing her lips against mine.
A wildfire.
Something this passionate can’t be contained.
Something this true can never be denied.
I devour every emotion from her lips. I’ll be tasting them for the rest of my life now. She’s all mine.
Someone clears their throat next to us.
Vera jumps back as if my touch burned her. And she turns to face the intruders.
It’s Inessa, along with her babushka.
I watch with amusement as the girls squeal and jump and cry. The sisters catch up on everything.
I can’t get enough of the joy on Vera’s face.
I want to keep it there forever.
It looks good on her.
Vera squeezes her sister’s arms, still not done giving Inessa the third degree. “In Mexico, why did Lion return with blood on his coat?”
Inessa bites back a smile. “I gave him a snack.”
Vera’s face relaxes with relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought he killed someone there. I was so worried.”
There’s a tap on my shoulder.
I turn to look at Vera’s babushka.
Her eyes are narrowed into slits. “So you’re the Simon who broke my granddaughter’s heart?”
“I’m Simon, but—"
“Do it again, and I’ll gouge your eyes out with my walking stick.”
“Yes, ma’am.” My lips twitch. This woman doesn’t even have a walking stick. She has a better posture than me.
“What are your intentions with her?” she asks.
“Babushka,” Vera complains, overhearing our conversation.
I look into Vera’s eyes.
More blue than gray.
I can see my future in their depths. Laughter. Lightness. Family.
More than anything, a bond.
It’s a bond that will never break. It’s a bond that demands to be nourished every single day.
And that’s exactly what I plan to do with my pretty little tigress.