forest, I realized the reason for the noise. Chloe was racing into the thickest part of the woods.
Goddamn it.
I took off, jumping off the deck, powering behind her. Jesus Christ. What the hell did I need to do to get through to the sassy vixen? Within seconds, I lost sight of her, the trees larger and thicker than the ones by the house. I could also see her trail, the underbrush just crushed by the weight of her footsteps. The little pet was going to learn one way or the other that she was my responsibility.
To protect.
To discipline.
To train.
I jumped over several fallen logs, finally catching a glimpse of her just before she disappeared again. What the hell? I stopped for a few seconds, finally able to hear the sound of running water. A creek or river was close. Had she actually been able to hear the sound from the house?
The little brat was faster than I would have believed. She was also one of the most hardheaded people I’d ever met. She still thought of this as some kind of game, even continuing her attempt to escape. I would tie her to one of the chairs if that’s what it took. As the slope of the land began to fall, I slowed down, able to catch a glimpse of what looked like a powerful water source.
While I was able to see a small grassy knoll, there were also dozens of large rocks, including several jagged ones in the river. Water was tumbling over them, rushing downstream. I shifted my attention, finally able to notice her sitting on a large boulder, dangling her feet over the edge. What in God’s name did she think she was doing?
Chloe had scratches on her legs from defying me yet again, racing into a section of woods covered in thorny underbrush. While at least two of them were deep, blood seeping from the wounds, she didn’t seem bothered by them to any degree. She’d bent her legs at the knees, her arms folded over them as she stared out at the water. As if the river was her escape route, her salvation.
The woman still didn’t comprehend the power of the Bratva.
Growling, I headed in her direction, moving to the bank just beside the massive rock. I remained quiet, trying to find a different way of getting through to her. If I failed, we’d both die.
“Do you remember the day in class when I told you about the Vorovskoy Zakon, the Thieves Code of Conduct?” My question didn’t seem to register for at least thirty seconds.
“Yes. They were monsters.”
I allowed my eyes to travel with the water as it splashed over the rocks, the beautiful reminder of nature something I’d always loved.
“My father, or I should say the man who’d dragged me off the street, providing me with food, clothing, education, and shelter, subscribed to the ways of the code. There were eighteen of them and it was a requirement to memorize each one prior to being accepted within the organization. Although Maxim Federov considered himself to be more modern in certain methodologies, he was a firm believer that when any code was ignored or refused, the indiscretion should be punishable by death. He never gave second chances. There was always punishment involved for going against his wishes. It didn’t matter who you were, including flesh and blood. He was brutal, usually unforgiving, and considered one of the most dangerous men in Russia.”
I could feel the heat of her gaze, so I continued.
“I’d often heard Papa called the King of Thieves because of his methods of extortion. There were some who even called him a god. Few thought he had any compassion or humanity, that he was capable of loving anyone. I saw him differently. He was proud of me, calling me his little warrior from the day I stepped foot in his beautiful car. Years later, he provided me with a nickname. The Butcher. At the time, I was extremely honored.”
Chloe shifted off the rock, carefully walking in my direction. “Some of the stories you told in class weren’t from history books. Were they?” There was no fear in her voice, only the same curiosity she always expressed in class.
I laughed, enjoying the smells of the forest. “Some were. A few were memories, important aspects as to the reasons there are several very dangerous groups within the United States.”
“What happened to your papa?”
Inhaling, I held the fresh air in my lungs for a period