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
