Page 142 of Vendetta Crown

"We kill Semyon," I say, my voice steady and certain. "He will die publicly and brutally. A message not just to the Triads but to anyone who thinks they can challenge the power of theVori."

Murmurs of approval ripple through the gathering.

"And how do you intend to accomplish this?" Gregor asks, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Semyon has been very careful to hide himself."

The corner of my mouth lifts in a cold smile.

"I have a plan," I tell him, meeting his gaze directly. "Semyon has been relying on his alliance with the Triads and a police chief from Kansas City to shield him. But the chief's usefulness is about to end."

I think of Aurora, of the documentary that will expose Kristofer for what he is. Of how we'll strip Semyon of his protection one ally at a time until he stands alone.

"As for the specifics," I continue. "Those will remain known only to those who need to know. But rest assured, Semyon Mikonov's days are numbered. So are his allies. In one week, we will make our move."

36

AURORA

NIGHT

My heart is still racingas Ruslan's strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. His heat seeps into me, a comforting furnace against my sweat-cooled skin even as his cum oozes out of me.

His other arm is under the crook of my neck, and his hand traces lazy patterns along my growing belly, each touch sending little sparks dancing across my nerve endings.

"Mmm," I purr, wriggling against him. "I think that's one way to celebrate you becoming pakhan of pakhans."

His chest rumbles with soft laughter, the vibration traveling through to my back. "If we keep celebrating like that, I might not survive long in this role."

"Is the pakhan of pakhans asking his wife to be merciful?" I ask playfully, capturing his wandering fingers and bringing them to my lips.

"You've become quite the bratva wife," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"I'm still learning the rules of the game." I twist my head to look at him.

"A game that you're very good at playing."

His golden eyes are heavy-lidded but alert, studying my face with an intensity that still makes my heart race. Even after everything we've shared, the power of his gaze makes me burn.

A comfortable silence falls between us, but I can sense something weighing on him. His body has tensed slightly behind mine, the rhythm of his fingertips growing more deliberate.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

He takes a deep breath. "I've made some changes to the documentary release schedule."

I turn in his arms to face him fully. "What kind of changes?"

"We're having the advanced screening at the Grauman Chinese Theater next week."

My eyes widen. "Next week? But I thought?—"

"I know," he cuts in, his hand sliding to cup my belly protectively. "But after Tamara, we need to move quickly."

"I understand," I say.

And I do.

But at the same time, I can't help feeling a crawling sense of unease. Everything is moving so quickly now. Tamara's funeral is barely behind us, Ruslan's nieces are still crying themselves to sleep, and now we're accelerating our plans.

It almost seems reckless.

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