Page 148 of Jewel of the Assassin
She sweeps her gaze upon those closest to us who have assembled. Our fateful witnesses to our wedding and the carnage within.
After glancing at me with a silly, sweet grin, she laughs like a sparkle of stars and says, “Who wants cake?”
49
“Oh yeah, Daddy, do it harder.”
VALENTINA
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“What do you think, Moya Koroleva? Should we not waste the time? Or should we savor?”
Roman’s green eyes gleam in the dim light of the ice fishing house. Not nearly as much as his gold mask with its elegant but eerie skeletal design. I love watching him work with his mask on. I love him fucking me more when he’s wearing it. This is the best extended honeymoon ever. We needed it. We needed the space, this time together.
Huddling into the black wool coat, I press my lips into a smile as I clutch my favorite toy, my Makarov PM, eyes tracing the thin, wiry frame dangling above the ice hole. He’s weaselly and thin but wiry. The former trafficker’s sharp brown eyes dart like a desperate rat searching for a way out. There is no way out.
Roman’s thick ropes bite into his wrists, unrelenting. By now,he’s been dealt some minor bruises while his naked body hangs just above the icy water. My husband knows exactly how to build the suspense. One wouldn’t know that there is a beautiful luxury cabin just about a mile from here. A cabin where we’ve spent every waking hour with one another when Roman isn’t doing his thing.
We haven’t returned to the manor yet. Too dangerous up till now due to the winter, but we are closer. My blood thrums at the knowledge, eager to go home. Home.
Well, home is right next to me.
The stench of fear curls in my nose, acrid and intoxicating, and I feel that familiar rush—the same one that made the chapel night a trial by fire. The same one when I stabbed the trespasser.
“Well, Romy,” I murmur the nickname I came up with when we started this journey. He was surprised at first, but now he loves it. Valentina to Valya and Roman to Romy. I tilt my head, rubbing the gun barrel along my lower lip. “I don’t exactly have anywhere else to be, so why not enjoy the show?” The corners of my mouth twitch as the man’s gaze snaps to me, pleading, wide, and helpless.
I have more I wish to savor, more I wish to share…with Roman. The buildup might be killing me, but the suspense also lights up my nerve endings.
Roman moves like a predator, his boots grinding softly against the frost-slick boards. “As my queen commands.” His tone is low, smooth, and wicked. The words shiver through me—a thrill rushing up my spine. I slide my finger along the trigger, the cold metal grounding me, and watch the thin man quiver. Tonight, he will pay for the lives he has harmed.
We dismantled much of his trafficking pipeline, one that stole shipments of medicine headed for underprivileged communities.Children’smedicine. Up until about a month ago, he was selling them on the black market.
Every contact he relied on, every smuggling route, we cut it off piece by piece—ships intercepted, shipmentsrerouted, informants turned. We struck like surgical phantoms—with a little help from Roksana and her network. Her allies became our allies.
By the time this sniveling rodent realized the walls of his little empire were crumbling, there was nowhere left to run or hide.
Even his small army of enforcers was taken care of when we invaded his “fortress”. Now, that was a fun night. It reminded me of the chapel, but with much fewer bullets. More quick slices to the throat or Roman snapping their necks.
He fucked me over the office desk while I primed my loaded Makarov at the big boss in the chair. If he ran, I was ready to shoot the coward.
And now, here he hangs, suspended above ice and water, stripped of everything. This is the final reckoning. Only one last thing we need to know.
“Where is the last storehouse, Maxym?” Roman asks, circling the former dictator, brandishing a long harpoon with a gaff fishing hook at its end.
“Go to hell!” The man spits, but his terror is evident.
Heaving a sigh, Roman rubs the cold hook along but Roman and I’s spine. “This process is so distasteful. Wouldn’t you rather avoid it? What else do you have to lose or gain? We’ve taken everything. You have no assets, no allies, no loyalties. No one is coming to save you.”
Maxym shudders, but the stubborn set of his jaw holds. He’s clinging to the only thing left—silence.
Roman tilts his head, studying him like a fish caught in a net, dangling helplessly. “You think silence gives you power?” He drags the harpoon hook down again, slower this time, until it clinks against a rib. “Silence is nothing.”
Maxym hisses between his teeth, muttering curses in his native tongue. He’s clinging to authority, but it’s invisible, nonexistent. Any rebellion is thin.
Roman’s sigh fogs in the frozen air. “Do you know what happens when a body goes into water this cold? Nerves seize. Breath catches. Your lungs spasm before you can even scream.But the mind—” he taps the man’s temple with the blunt end of the hook— “the mind stays awake far too long. Long enough to feel yourself drowning. Long enough to wish you had answered me.”
More silence. Maxym trembles. Sweat slides down his temple.
