Page 18 of Vows in Violence

Kissing her makes me want to continue, but she also needs to know her place. I lead her backward, guiding her without her realizing where we are going. My lips leave hers, and I take one final look into her beautiful eyes before I push her back into the cage; she stumbles and falls down almost gracefully onto her cushions, and I slam the door shut.

The sound reverberates through the room, final and unforgiving.

She is on the floor, looking up at me with those soft, almost defenseless eyes. The fire is gone. "You lied to me, my pet. I cannot trust you with a mere servant anymore."

The door to our bedroom opens again, and Nikolai walks in. Her gasp is sharp, filled with a mix of fear and realization.

"Nikolai was trained by me, molded by me. You will not escape again," I say, my voice cold and unyielding.

Nikolai stands beside me, his presence a silent reminder of the power I wield. Vivi’s eyes dart between us, understanding the gravity of her situation. She is trapped, and there is no way out.

Chapter 7

Vivi

I’ve always felt thatit was a love of books that led Rowan and me to form one of the deepest friendships of our lives.

We met during a New Year’s party, drawn initially by the bonds offamiglia. Both of us were on display, the eligible daughters of powerful families and the prized possessions of overprotective brothers. Rowan was at the window cradling her ridiculous and magnificent ginger cat and looking like a Pre-Raphaelite painting.

I knew we were going to be friends immediately before a word was ever spoken between us.

And it was so. We became friends quickly. I drew Rowan as much as I could into our world of backstabbing and blood, mentored her, shielded her, gave her someone to talk to.

And then I walked away from her.

A book I read once during my teen years flitters across my mind—The Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath. I remember struggling to understand it years ago. In it, the main character, Esther, was struggling with her mental health, something that I could not exactly relate to.

Despite everything in my life being a bit beyond normal, I’ve never known normal…so I’ve never missed it. That lack of normality never made me wonder if maybe I was a shade past…sane.

But perhaps I am?

Because I can certainly relate to Esther saying she feels like an insect trapped under a bell jar.

An entire world exists beyond the bars of my cage. My only friend—if Rowan is still my friend—is across the river. My sister and brother-in-law are in our family home, probably fuming over my decision. There are people going to work and children going to school. Dreams are being built and destroyed all while I sit here, trapped.

Moving uselessly from one end of the cage to the next, beating myself against the glass walls of my jar.

I lie on my cushions, tears collecting cold at my ears as I stare at the ceiling.

Across the room, Nikolai adjusts himself in his chair as he looks at something on his phone.

I sit up and wipe the tears from my face. I’ll cry when I’m by myself, but I’m not going to do it in front of one of Ivan’s goons.

“I’d like to leave.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer.

He is slouching in his chair, a chair that he pulled from its place in front of the window. Ivan’s schedule is unpredictable, but his routine isn’t. Ivan always uses that chair when he puts on his shoes.

I wonder if he will notice if Nikolai does not return it to the correct place.

I clear my throat and say more forcefully, “I would like to leave.”

Nikolai finishes watching the video on his phone, chuckles to himself, and walks over to the cage. He leans down next to the bars. From where I’m sitting, I can smell the chewing tobacco on his breath.

“I know. There are few people who actually enjoy being in a cage.”

“I don’t want to leave the house. I just want to walk around for a bit.”

---