Page 115 of Vow of Silence

“Well, look who decided to join the party.” He drops the book in his right hand and reaches for his weapon.

The double movement means I’m quicker. I raise my pistol and line it with his smug fucking face, taking further steps into the room. A slash of black to my left confirms where Dmitry slumps against the end of a sofa. He’s in bad shape, covered in as much blood as my crazed uncle.

The question is, who wears their own, and who wears the other’s?

There’s no doubt a fair fight went down in this room. One look at the broken and strewn décor, followed by a cursory glance at the posture of the man before me, has me wondering how the fuck Ignazio still stands. It seems the old bastard was in better form than I gave him credit.

“Who are you here for?” my elder asks, steel-blue eyes narrowed on where I stand. “Where is your loyalty, Benito?”

I lift my eyebrows and nod toward him.Where’s yours?

“No golden cunt is worth this much,” he says with a derisive laugh. “Help me find the girl, and I’ll make you into more of a man than your father ever will.”

My lips twitch up on one side. That’s his weakness, my esteemed uncle. He assumes everyone is as power-hungry as he is. Wrong. I don’t want the fame, the notoriety, or the money. I want what makes me feel good, and she’s currently somewhere in this maze of a goddamn house hiding from the devil I should have killed years ago.

“You waste your breath,” Dmitry says with a hint of humor. “Benito is ten times the man you are, Ignazio. He can’t be bribed with all things shiny.”

I nod in agreeance.

Uncle Naz sighs, eyes rolling in his head as he gives me his back and returns to the bookcase. “Shoot me, then. But I’m here to finish what I started far too long ago.” He tears another handful of titles from the shelves.

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Dmitry asks. “You’re bitter and jaded because you fucked up, and now you’ve had to wait for years to find out that nothing you built would ever replace what you lost.” He laughs at my fuming relative. “Fate has a plan for all of us, Ignazio. What you do doesn’t matter; you cannot control God.”

“There is no God!” Naz hollers, his voice echoing off the walls.

I ready my blade in my left hand. I know crazy when I see it, and the thing with crazy is that it’s unpredictable. I should know.

“Every fucking Sunday, there we are in the pews singing His graces.” More books to the floor. “And for what? He doesn’t answer my prayers. Doesn’t care for my desires.”

“Because they’re corrupt. Fed to you by the devil,” Dmitry explains. “Give it up. You won’t have what you want.”

“I fucking will.” Naz stiffens, gaze fixated on a shelf about waist height.

Dmitry shifts where he sits, groaning with his injuries.

My blood chills.

“Told you that I’d find it.” Uncle Naz grins, head turning slowly to read our reactions. “I know where you are, Nastasya!” He tips his head back and hollers through the house. “Ready or not, here I come.”

THIRTY-NINE

Nastasya

“Ready or not. Here I come!”

Ignazio’s words filter through to where I slide beneath Papa’s bed. I stall my movements, keening my ears to see if the enemy moves toward me or calls my bluff. Either way, I need to prepare myself. I run my eye over the cache of weapons strapped to the underside of the bed frame and pick my load out. His favorite Desert Eagle.

Ignazio can come after me all he likes, but he won’t find me cowered in a corner.

My papa taught me how to fight. Taught me how to stand up for myself, although he believed I would never need to, being a woman in a male-dominated organization. Taught me how to avoid becoming another casualty of indifferent enemies—my mother’s fate. She never stood a chance when those attackers ambushed her car. Never had a hope of saving herself when the patriarchy that keeps me from the table kept her ignorant of what it takes to fend off an armed and determined assailant.

That won’t be me. This isn’t my story, my legacy. Kuznetsov women aren’t fated to be viewed as weak and easy targets. Nope. If you want change, be the change. My father might believe that emotion is what will compromise my role at the head of thebrotherhood, but my compassion and love are the very things that’ll be the reason I win.

You can’t expect to perform your best if you don’t care about the outcome.

I care about our hired men down there, our extended family. I care about the man I’m yet to start a new life with. And I care about me.

That love alone makes me indestructible.

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