Shattered Throne
Mice and Men Book 3 (The War of Roses Universe)
Lana Sky
Also by Lana Sky
The Ellie Gray Chronicles
Drain Me
Chain Me
The Complete Ellie Gray Chronicles
Beautiful Monsters
Crescendo
Refrain
Mezzo
Allegro
Club XXX
Maxim: Submit
Maxim: Obey
Maxim: Surrender
Maxim: The Complete Trilogy
Vadim: Control
Vadim: Corrupt
Vadim: Conquer
Vadim: The Complete Trilogy
Savage Fall Duet
King’s Men
King’s Horses
The Complete Savage Fall Duet
The War of Roses Universe
The War of Roses
XV: (Fifteen)
VII: (Seven)
I: (One)
The Complete War of Roses Trilogy
Of Mice and Men
Ruthless King
Queen of Thorns
Shattered Throne
Mended Crown
Painted Sin
A Touch of Dark
A Taste like Sin
The Complete Painted Sin Duet
Standalones
Pretty Perfect
Crossed Lines
Dragon Triad Duet
Moth
Flame
The Complete Dragon Triad Duet
Rockstar Rebels
Dirty Lyrics (Newsletter Exclusive)
Shattered Thorne
Shattered Thorne By Lana Sky
Copyright © 2021 by Lana Sky
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
1. Evgeni
2. Willow
3. Don
4. Evgeni
5. Willow
6. Evgeni
7. Willow
8. Don
9. Willow
10. Don
11. Willow
12. Don
13. Evgeni
14. Don
15. Evgeni
16. Don
17. Evgeni
18. Willow
19. Willow
20. Evgeni
21. Don
22. Willow
23. Evgeni
24. Don
25. Willow
26. Don
27. Willow
28. Don
Afterword
Chapter 1 of XV: War of Roses Trilogy Book 1
A Word from the Author
About the Author
Also by Lana Sky
1
Evgeni
I used to fear the dark above all else. Almost every night, I’d wake up screaming, convinced that any variety of monsters lurked within the shadows. To comfort me, my mother repeated the same bit of wisdom—Stay strong. This fear? It’s nothing.
As she saw it, the real horrors worth battling couldn’t be found on earth in physical form. No beast, or criminal, or illness around was more terrifying than what lurked within the human soul.
“The dark,” she said, “is constant. It can be fought against with light. You know what can’t be banished so easily? Sin. The things you do, the lies you tell. One day, they will be what you see in the shadows.”
She was right, of course. Monsters can be fought; beasts outrun. Neither foe is comparable to what a man learns to truly fear—himself. His past is a beast of his own making, relentless in its pursuit.
The sad part is for all her wisdom, my mother couldn’t even fathom the cruelty of men. The sins that some can easily sow with no remorse. The chilling past that lurks in their wake. She chose to see the good in anyone she met, and that kindness blinded her. So much so that she fell in love with a monster of her very own.
To her dying day, she never regretted any second of that life spent with him. I carried that burden for her, saddled with the weight of my father’s sins and her blind devotion. Once, I was naïve to think I could ignore the baggage. Face that beast and say no more.
Now? I can admit that I’ve never stopped running from it.
I still am.
“I was wrong,” a woman’s purr intrudes on my inner monologue, and I nearly swerve off the road.
Briar Winthorp. I’d forgotten she was here or maybe my brain feels driven to ignore her. Her presence is a thorn piercing through my otherwise logical thought process. Mischa fucked up and took his frustration out on me. I had every right to leave.
When he decides to listen to reason, I’ll go back and make amends.
Allowing us both enough space to process our anger is a fitting courtesy.
But I should have tossed her out of the car ten miles back, Briar Winthorp, one of the three women at the forefront of my mind. Willow Stepanova is the other, followed by a newer name. As of yet, I have no idea just where she fits within this mess regarding Mischa and Vanici, just that she’s related somehow.
Safiya Mangenello.
Suffice to say, I’d prefer the company of the latter two than the woman accompanying me now.
“I thought you were boringly predictable,” she says dryly. “A man I could trust to always do what he perceived to be ‘the right thing’ no matter the cost. But now? I see that you are just as stubborn and reckless as any other man. I should have taken my chances with the other lackey you work with.”
She sounds genuinely disappointed, and I have to scoff. “So now you drop the coy, mysterious act?”
A damn shame. I prefer her silent and smirking.
She barks out a callous laugh. “Why shouldn’t I? Given the way you stormed out of there and the fact that Mischa hasn’t joined us, I’m assuming that you reneged on our agreement to have me meet with him. You’re of no use to me now.”
Her uncanny ability to see to the core of the situation aside, I marvel at the dismissiveness in her tone.
“Is that all people are to you? Useful peons?” If so, I’m not surprised. Given her upbringing, I’m sure that Briar Winthorp excelled at living up to every last stereotype of a selfish socialite. Selfish being foremost.
“I feel it’s better to be pragmatic than emotional,” she replies with an iciness that I suspect isn’t an act. The cold gleam in her eye I spy when I glance in her direction reinforces that suspicion. “Though, I should have guessed that someone who deigns to work for my sister would be of the latter quality. Don’t forget that I did my research on you, Evgeni Volkov. A quiet, dutiful man prone to sadistic outbursts of rage.” She sounds like a student reciting her notes. Maybe she is. “I assume you and that brute Mischa had a tiff, and you stormed out. I hope it wasn’t over little old me—”
“You’re wrong,” I lie, irritated by the fact that she’s not. Beneath those coy expressions and superficiality is
