Page 48 of Ruthless Vow

There it is, that impossible surge of hope, showing up like a single bar of cellular reception in the wilderness. And just like that bar, it’ll disappear in a puff taking all hope with it.

Bianca has made promises to me dozens of times before. I’m not inclined to trust her now. But I can’t let her know that.

“Thank you,” I say. “I…uh, I’m sorry, Bianca. About what happened on the yacht… I’m sorry I failed you.”

I’m not sorry. Not even a tiny bit. The day I failed to kill Leo, I would have said those words and meant them with everything I am. Now, not so much. Leo didn’t kill my father. He didn’t deserve to die by my hand that day.

But if I hope to ever see Sofia again, I need to say exactly what my aunt expects to hear.

“It’s over.” Bianca gives me a tight smile. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve decided that your part in all of this is over.”

I want to ask her what she means, but she turns her back to me and walks from the room.

Danila leads me to one of the upstairs guest rooms where I make use of an expansive, marble bathroom and have a long, searing hot shower. And then I crawl into a canopied king-sized bed, my entire body aching, my mind racing.

I waketo find the door to my room locked from the outside, which doesn’t surprise me at all, knowing my aunt. The clock on the bedside table tells me it’s after noon. I slept for a very long time but I don’t feel refreshed.

A tray on the dresser holds a carafe with coffee that’s still almost hot, some fruit, a sandwich, and a basket of small muffins and croissants. There’s a fresh change of clothes stacked on the chair in the corner. A shapeless dress, beige with a hint of gray. Was it only days ago that I wore clothing like this as armor, making myself invisible wherever I went?

Now the sight of the dress makes me want to tear it to shreds. This dress belongs on the woman my father and aunt crafted me to be. It doesn’t belong onme.

I don’t fully know who I am or who I want to be. Not yet. Figuring that out will take time. But I definitely know I don’t want to be a disposable game piece, forced to obey someone else’s whims, to squeeze myself into a mold they created.

I eat, taking my time, knowing my aunt will leaved me locked in this room until she’s ready to let me out. And she’ll be in no rush. She’ll want me to sit and stew and obsess over my many failings. She’ll expect me to spend the hours chastising myself, working myself into a frenzy of self-loathing.

The girl I used to be might have done that. Probably would have.

When exactly did I stop being that girl? Was it when Salvatore gave me ever increasing responsibilities, trusting me, relying on me? Was it when he showed me what a father should be? Or when he died and I mourned him and missed him? Was it when I decided against shooting Leo? Or when he kissed me that first time? Maybe it was when I made the choice to send the pet I love to stay with Luca in order to keep him healthy and safe. Or when I decided to trust Leo with a portion of the truth, telling him about Sofia even though I didn’t tell him about Bianca. Or maybe it was a slow progression, baby steps over months and years.

All I know is that Salvatore was right. I am not stupid. I am smart and capable. I am not weak or a failure. I am strong.

And I will stay strong.

Leo was right, too.

I am not the mouse I pretended to be.

I am a wolf.

The bathroom is stocked with toiletries. The first thing I do is take out my contacts—they can’t be worn for more than six or seven days—and replace them with a fresh pair from the backpack I retrieved. I wash my face, brush my hair, and secure it in an elastic at the nape of my neck. I study my reflection, seeing no change in myself other than the haunted look in my eyes and the flyaway chunks of hair that are too short to be contained.

No, that’s not true.

I’m standing tall, not slouching.

And for the first time in… well, maybe in forever, Ilikethe reflection looking back at me. I like my piercing gaze and my full brows, my sharp chin and cheekbones.

I lean a little closer to the mirror.

Are my lips fuller than usual? Bruised from Leo’s mouth on mine…

And those marks low on my neck, near my collarbone… Those are from Leo’s lips and teeth.

For a moment, I let myself remember the feel of his body against mine. His hands, his mouth, the sound of his voice.Perfection, he’d said when he looked at me. And he’d meant it, because Leo doesn’t bother to lie.

I close my eyes, locking thoughts of Leo away in a beautiful gold box in the corner of my mind, safe and protected. Then, in a moment of defiance, I take fresh underthings from the pile, but dress in the khaki cargo pants and long-sleeved T-shirt I wore yesterday instead of the shapeless sack my aunt left for me. The mock-neck hides the marks Leo left on me. A good thing because I won’t be able to explain them to my aunt.

I drag the chair to the window and let my mind run free as the sun hits my face through the glass.

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