Page 28 of Jewel of the Assassin
“There was no wedding,” he says, voice lowered, brows drawn into a dark frown.
I don’t respond.
“There was a crash,” he says, voice grim. “The Volkov limousine met some unfortunate trouble on the way. Valentina is missing. Your brother, Anton, and I are exhausting every resource to find her. Her father, Victor Volkov, is also involved. The vehicle was inspected, and sabotage was confirmed. This was no accident.”
I lean back, eyes on the window where the last light fades behind spruce and snow.
“Ransom?” I prompt.
“No ransom demands have been made. But we suspect a rival clan,” he says, steepling his fingers, assessing me. “One that fears the alliance between the Volkovs and the Makarovas. They want to stop the contract. They see our power threatening Russian interests overseas.”
Of course, no rival clan has Valentina. Only I would perform a move so bold. Not born out of envy or revenge, but for taking what is rightfully mine. I’d be a fool to ignore how the mere knowledge of her disappearance could shatter the fragile balance, tipping the scales toward chaos. The tension between the clans will fray further, drawing in syndicates hungry to topple both the Makarovas and the Volkovs.
Perfect for me.
The Makarovas are a fortress, stronger and better protected, in no small part because of the fear of my name. But the Volkovs? They’re vulnerable now, and the sharks will smell blood, circling in the dark.
Other clans and syndicates will point fingers, trying to uncover who’s behind this and why. You don’t just kidnap the Princess of the Alaskan Peninsula without consequences. And those consequences could be the spark that ignites a war. The stakes are clear. The game has changed.
“I will offer my services and resources,” I say, buying time. “I will keep you informed if I learn anything.”
“I am sending you a new contract. And you will gather what information you can when you deal with the threat.”
I lean back in my chair and shake my head with assurance and purpose. “I will take no contract at this time. I have business to attend to.”
My father’s voice hardens. “You don’t turn down blood, Roman.”
I meet his challenge. “I’ve earned the right to pick my blade. It is still warm with blood from my recent contract.”
A vein throbs in his brow, betraying his anxiety, and his jaw is tight. There’s a long silence, then: “You’re not your own master. You know that.”
“Maybe it’s time I become one,” I say, resolve hardening like ice. “Send me the information about the contract, ????. If my business resolves soon, and my schedule allows, I will handle it.”
I end the call, leaving only the quiet hum of the manor and the weight of what’s to come.
I run a hand through my hair and stare out at the darkening forest. All I see is Valentina’s face.
The lines are drawn, the pieces moving.
And I will wear the crown when the board shifts. With my Queen at my side.
11
“You’re right to be afraid.”
VALENTINA
Mikhail walks a step ahead of me, his footsteps silent despite the weight of his boots. Poppy ambles on beside us, and I smile at how she occasionally rubs against my legs.
I glance at Mikhail, curious. There’s a stillness about him. Not just quiet, but something carved from discipline and grief. The kind of silence a man doesn’t come back from.
“You’ve known Roman a long time?” I ask lightly but measured.
“Yes.”
I slow a little, turning to him. “You’re more than just his priest. There’s trust there.”
He smiles warmly. “He bled for me. And I, him. He’s earned more loyalty than most men deserve.”
