Page 118 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

She thinks she wants to know, but she has no idea. The Greeks and Xena Simatou and the Battiato mafia and my family’s tragedy and on and on. It’s a tangled web, and Belle should be grateful she isn’t more enmeshed in it.

I should probably let her escape before she’s in too deep.

But there’s not a chance in hell I’m doing that.

“We’d have to make a lot more of those tapes for me to be willing to tell you everything, beautiful Belle.”

She flushes a deep red and takes a step away from me. “Stop calling me—”

But before she can get the word out, her foot slips. In an instant, she hits the ground hard. It’s slick, so she starts sliding downhill…

Right towards the chasm.

She scrabbles for purchase on the bumpy ground, but she can’t seem to get a good hold. “Nikolai!” she shrieks.

The way she calls my name does something to me. A panic I don’t recognize comes to life, and I sprint after her. There’s no concern for my own safety, no concern for whether I fall over the edge with her.

I just know I can’t stand by and watch her die.

I dive onto the hard rock and throw an arm out. My fingers brush across a strap on her windbreaker. I latch onto it, my knuckles turning white with the strain, but I can already feel the fabric giving away.

“Belle, climb up and grab my hand,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

She’s one foot from the sheer drop. If I let go of her, I know she’ll fall. Her hazel eyes are as green as the moss growing over the stony ground.

And they’re as terrified as I’ve ever seen them.

“Nikolai,” she whimpers. “I can’t.”

“You can. You have to crawl to me. If I move forward, you’ll get closer to the edge.”

And I’d lose the toehold I currently have, my boot wedged into a narrow space between two rocks.

“You can do it,” I say. “Come on, Belle.”

She takes a deep breath and then throws her arm up, grabbing onto my elbow. Bit by bit, she crawls her way up my body, using me as a human rope. And when she’s close enough that I can wrap my arms around her waist, I hug her and roll her over my body.

She lands on my legs, scraping my knees even harder against the jagged lava rock.

But I don’t give a fuck. She isn’t dead. That’s what matters.

Now that she’s safe, I inch my way away from the ledge and then rise to my knees once I’m on solid earth. Belle is lying flat on her back nearby, her eyes staring up at the blue sky. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly.

“Holy shit.”

“I should have believed you when you said you were clumsy,” I mutter.

She snorts, a mixture of amusement and sheer relief. “And I should have believed you when you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

In any other case, I’d make sure to remind someone that I could kill them at any moment. That I’m unpredictable, undependable. I feed off the fear that inspires.

But something about the way Belle is looking at me right now is better than that.

It looks an awful lot like trust.

27

BELLE

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