Chapter 1

  No one dared to breathe.

  Twenty men stood in a straight line in the grand hall, their heads bowed, their expensive suits unable to hide the fear written across their faces. Some had served the Volkov family for decades. Others had only recently earned their place. Tonight, rank meant nothing.

  At the far end of the room sat a woman on a black leather chair that looked more like a throne.

  Valentina Volkov.

  She wore a fitted black suit with crimson heels, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. A diamond ring glinted on her finger, but there was nothing delicate about her. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if deciding someone's fate was just another task on her schedule.

  A glass of red wine rested on the table beside her.

  She lifted it, took a slow sip, and set it back down.

  "Who stole from me?" she asked softly.

  Silence.

  Her voice wasn't loud, yet it filled every corner of the hall.

  No one answered.

  She glanced at the man standing beside her.

  "Ivan."

  The silver-haired consigliere stepped forward with a file in his hand.

  "We discovered that five million dollars disappeared from the Rotterdam shipment three weeks ago," he announced. "Only seven people had access to the accounts."

  Valentina nodded once.

  "Bring them."

  Seven men were dragged to the center of the room.

  One by one, they dropped to their knees.

  "Boss, we're innocent!"

  "You have to believe us!"

  "It wasn't me!"

  Their desperate voices overlapped until Valentina raised one finger.

  Instant silence.

  She rose from her chair with slow, graceful steps, stopping in front of the youngest of the seven.

  He couldn't have been older than twenty-five.

  Tears streamed down his face.

  "My queen," he whispered. "I swear on my mother's life, I didn't take the money."

  Valentina stared into his eyes for several long seconds.

  Then she smiled.

  It was the kind of smile that froze blood.

  "You swore on your mother's life?"

  "Y-Yes."

  She reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold key.

  The room fell silent again.

  "The key to a private vault in Switzerland," she said. "Registered under a fake name."

  The young man's face drained of color.

  "I can explain—"

  "You already did."

  She took a step back.

  "I gave you loyalty."

  Another step.

  "I gave you wealth."

  Another.

  "And you rewarded me with greed."

  She extended her hand.

  Without a word, one of her guards placed a polished pistol into her palm.

  The click of the safety echoed through the hall.

  The young man burst into tears.

  "Please... please, Boss. I made a mistake. I'll return everything. Please..."

  Valentina tilted her head.

  "In this family, betrayal isn't a mistake."

  Bang.

  The gunshot shattered the silence.

  His body collapsed onto the marble floor.

  No one moved.

  No one screamed.

  The only sound was the rain outside.

  Valentina handed the pistol back to the guard as though she'd merely signed a document.

  "Clean this up," she said.

  Two men stepped forward immediately.

  She turned to face the rest of the room.

  "Look at him."

  Everyone obeyed.

  "That is the price of betrayal."

  Her eyes swept over every face.

  "If any of you ever think about stealing from this family..."

  She paused.

  "...pray someone else kills you first."

  No one doubted her.

  No one ever would.

  As the meeting ended, Ivan approached with unusual urgency.

  "There is something you need to see."

  He handed her a black envelope sealed with crimson wax.

  There was no sender's name.

  Only a symbol.

  A crown dripping with blood.

  Valentina's expression hardened.

  She broke the seal and unfolded the single sheet inside.

  Six words were written in elegant black ink.

  The Devil of Rome is coming.

  For the first time in years...

  The Bloody Queen stopped smiling.