Page 68 of Crimson Vows

My eyes dart up the street again to the entrance of Amelia’s parking garage when I see another SUV enter. It’s three o’clock—I know it shouldn’t be her, but I grow more anxious each time I spot movement.

“Vincent,” I mutter under my breath, checking my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. The screen remains dark, mockingly silent. No text, no missed call. Nothing. It doesn’t make sense, and I’ve had to repeatedly fight the temptation to call him myself.

Vincent should have reached the penthouse by now. I thought he would have called when he realized I wasn’t there. Yet my phone has remained silent.

A shiver runs down my spine as an unsettling thought creeps in. Could this be a setup? Was Amelia working with Vincent to catch me off guard? My stomach sinks at the realization there is a very possible chance she’s luring me into a trap.

The minutes tick by, slow and heavy, each one piling upon the last until the weight of them threatens to crush me. I scan the street, searching for any sign of betrayal or danger lurking in the shadows. But it’s only more of the same I have been watching pass by for hours, the hum of life that doesn’t know—or care—about the darkness that encroaches on mine.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the paranoia. But it clings to me, a persistent whisper that something’s terribly wrong. I need to go to Gia. I should be the one protecting her. Just as I start the car, my phone buzzes. Amelia’s name flashes on the screen. I look around, an uneasy feeling that someone must be watching me, but I see nothing. I exhale, attempting to calm my racing heart before I answer the call.

“Hello?” My voice cracks slightly.

“Marco! You fucking bastard!” Amelia shouts, her sobs between words piercing. “Did you... did you have anything to do with this?”

“Calm down. What are you talking about?” Confusion blankets me as I try to understand what she’s saying.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she warns.

“Amelia.” My voice is firm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Vincent! He’s been shot. Someone tried to fucking kill him!” Her accusation hangs heavy between us, but my mind is focused on her revelation. My cousin has been shot.

“Shot?” I gasp. “What do you mean, shot? Who shot him?”

“I swear to God, Marco, you better not be bullshitting me. If I find out you had anything to—”

“Are you fucking serious?” I interject. “You really think I would do something to hurt him? Jesus, Amelia, who the hell do you think I am?”

She heaves, trying to catch her breath through pain-soaked gasps before she can continue. Her words are broken and chaotic. “Fuck, I don’t know what to think. Vincent. It’s fucking Vincent. They came for my goddamn brother. What the hell am I going to do? Fuck.”

“Amelia, I swear, I had nothing to do with this. I love him.” As angry as I was, I wasn’t lying. I did love him. “Is he okay? I don’t understand, what happened?” The car feels like a cage, trapping me.

Amelia clears her throat, and almost instantly, I sense a shift in her from panicked pain and fear to controlled anger. “Walter called me and said the ambulance already picked him up. He said Vincent was alive when they left, but that it’s not good. I guess he had dropped Eva off at her parents’ on his way home so she could see her mom. I’m heading to pick her up now, then we’re going straight to the hospital.”

A cold rush of déjà vu hits me, the memory of Nico, bloodied and broken. The helplessness swamps me, suffocating and dense. I bang my free hand against the steering wheel, crying out in frustration. “Dammit!” It’s too much, too often. The dying never stops, and I’m so damn tired.

“Marco, I mean it. If I find out you had a hand in this...” Her voice shudders with barely contained rage. “There will be no hole deep enough for you to hide.”

“Amelia, listen to me,” I plead, my voice a steady drumbeat of sincerity. “I swear I had nothing to do with this. I promise you, though, I will find out who did this to our family, and I am going to kill them.”

“I hope for your sake you’re telling me the truth.” Her warning is clear.

“Did Walter see what happened? Who pulled the trigger?” I ask, hoping for an actionable lead.

“He said he heard a commotion outside, but by the time he made it out there, he found Vincent lying there, bleeding. He’s pulling security footage. He said based on where he found Vincent, the cameras should have captured it. Alexei sent some of his men over to review the tapes.”

I stiffen at the idea of the Ivanovs getting involved. “Don’t you think this is something we should keep in the family?”

“Vincent is my family, and I’m an Ivanov.” Her voice is cold, and I know immediately that it’s not an argument I’ll win.

“I understand,” I answer. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to fucking find whoever did this and bring them to me.” She hangs up before I can reply, leaving me with silence.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter, trying to piece out who could possibly be behind the attack on Vincent. I was so worried about covering my own ass I ended up failing to protect my cousin. I was so distracted I wasn’t watching for the danger lurking in the shadows, searching for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

My fingers dance over the phone’s screen, summoning Gia’s number first. A ring. Two. Then voicemail. I try Nico next. But again, it only rings. There is no gruff voice to greet me, no assurance that cuts through fear. I need to warn them. I have to tell them that while we were planning our escape, someone else was planning their attack against the King family.

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