Page 151 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

She’s not really asking anymore. She’s explaining.

I grit my teeth. “You don’t understand how this life works. Marriage is a tool. This will make my Bratva stronger.”

“And that matters?”

“It’s the only thing that matters,” I bite back.

For so long—forsofucking long—that’s been true. Growing up drowning in poverty, watching my father scrape together enough loose change to buy bottom-shelf booze while my hunger roared in my stomach, I swore to myself I would turn it all around. Someday, somehow, all that shit would change.

And I did it. I built everything from nothing. I remade the world in my image and I killed anyone along the way who tried to stop me.

I’ve come so far. And now that I’m so goddamn close to being enthroned on top, I can’t let anything—or anyone—distract me.

Not even her.

“Then it sounds like you have your priorities,” Belle says coldly. “And I have mine.”

“And what are those?”

“To take care of myself and my sister.”

I snort. “Oh, of course. You were doing a great job before I came along. When you get back to your ‘priorities,’ be sure to give Roger my best.”

Her face screws up. “Roger? What does he have to do with—”

“And if it’s not him, then it will be the next predatory boss who paws at you while you work a job you hate so you can scrape by. What a life it is you’re protecting.”

“Some of us have no choice!” she screams, slamming her fists against my chest.

I press forward closer, pinning her against the wall of the elevator. She’s a captive lightning bolt, trembling and twitching with emotion she can’t keep bottled up anymore.

I lean close and brush my lips against her ear. Her breath catches, her chest hitches, her writhing hands go still.

“You do have a choice, Belle.”

She shakes her head without looking at me. Her hair is falling out of its sleek knot. “No, I don’t. You took that away from me.”

I push off the wall and spin away from her. “Maybe I should have known you weren’t cut out for this life.”

“Oh,I’mthe problem?” She laughs like she’s going insane.

“Yes, you are.” I raise my eyes to hers. “You won’t survive in this world. You don’t belong here.”

“Clearly not,” she snarls, even as her eyes glisten with fresh tears.

“I exist to lead my Bratva. My life is this business. And if you can’t see how connecting with the Greeks benefits me—my life, my Bratva—then I won’t waste my time explaining it to you.”

Her chin wobbles before she raises it and squares her shoulders to me. “Your life is this business. And I’m no longer a part of your life. So you can do whatever you want with either one. Count me out of all of it.”

We stare at each other for a moment. When I reach past Belle, she flinches. Until the buzzing of the emergency alarm cuts out and the elevator starts to move once more.

She stares at me until the doors open at our floor. When they do, she steps out, moving slowly like she isn’t sure what comes next.

But she isn’t my problem anymore. I don’t care what she does.

I don’t care about anything.

36

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