Page 2 of Vow of Silence

The glass pops free, the sound of it collapsing onto the forest floor disguised by the steady rain through the leaves above. I twist and bend, wincing at the stabs of pain that I’ll investigate later, and crawl out onto the sodden dirt and debris. Mud cakes my hands, knees filthy when I turn back to spare a glance at my best friend.

“Run”,she mouths.

The hastened scratch and swish of legs through seedlings and shrubs accompany the shadow that morphs into a definite man behind my wrecked car. We’re thirty feet down from the road—a steep, slippery, and undulating terrain that would have made their path to us challenging. I back into the forest, concealing myself beneath a dense bush clinging to the base of an ancient redwood. Running now would only draw attention to me; my best chance is to hide.

“La cagna è ancora in macchina.”The first man on the scene chuckles at Caroline’s predicament.

I crush my eyes shut and pray she took my ridiculous advice. Playing possum is her only chance at getting away from this alive. If they think she’s already dead, they might figure it’smore believable as an accident to leave her alone. But then again, there’s no such thing as serendipity in organized crime. Everything is calculated and carefully executed. Nothing gets left to chance.

“Ha ancora bisogno di consegnare il messaggio.”

I should have elected to take Spanish in school and at least stood a chance of understanding our adversaries. Instead, I lived the life of a Bratva brat, shopping and entertaining admirers like the attention whore I am. Look where that got me now: crouched beneath a plant while my best friend’s life flashes before her—hopefully closed—eyes.My phone.My eyes snap open as the realization hits. One message, one SOS, and Papa’s soldiers would have been here within minutes.Stupid, stupid woman.I ease myself over and edge toward the side of the bush, peering out at ground level to see if the followers are still around. The night casts dark shadows across the earth, pale moonlight shielded by the rain clouds above. The car’s headlights make it hard for my eyes to focus, and I steady my breaths as I slowly drag my gaze along the vehicle’s lines, looking for their legs and feet. Perhaps if I can get to my phone, keep the attention away from Caro?—

The gunshot sends me to my stomach, face buried in the undergrowth as the echo of the sound rattles around my skull. Leaf litter tugs into my mouth, pulled between dry lips when my lungs heave for clarity.Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.A sharp twig digs into the side of my palm, but I don’t dare move even an inch in case they hear me. The rain grows heavier, the water pouring through the leaves, soaking my hair and sticking the damp lengths to the side of my face. I shut my eyes and let the matted mess shield me from the ugly truth around me.

From the reality that I just heard my best friend take a literal bullet for me.

“Andiamo. Potremmo fare l'ultima chiamata se siamo veloci.”

Footsteps recede, the crunch and swish of the undergrowth fainter by the second. I pant against the sodden ground, and something small and tickly crosses my neck. I lie there for what seems like hours before I feel sure enough the men won’t return. My hands shake, and my arms are like jelly when I push myself off the ground to crawl from beneath the undergrowth.

“Caroline?” I whisper-yell her name, scrambling toward the car.

The rain has eased. It coats my face and hair, settling on the tips of my lashes as I pull myself onto the vehicle, the discarded windscreen crunching beneath my knees. My dress is ruined, my shoes soaked, and my flesh torn to ribbons. The night was supposed to celebrate Caroline’s recent graduation from law school, but instead, we became the latest crime statistic for her peers to investigate.

I fill my lungs and run a shaky hand over my face before I dare lift my chin and discover what lies before me. My stomach spasms, muscles contracting as I suppress the urge to vomit. What was once a pretty face now lies destroyed with a perfect hole blown through her right eye. A clear message from whoever ordered the hit: you’ve seen too much.

Hands trembling, I tumble into the car and locate my strewn purse in the footwell, tugging my phone free from the silk lining. My gaze fixes to what remains of my beautiful best friend, nostrils flaring while I refuse to let these monsters win. I hold down my preset emergency dial icon and lift the phone to my ear. The reception is patchy, but there.

“Miss Nastasya,” Papa’ssovietnikanswers.

“Dmitry.” My timbre wavers, yet my words are sure. “I need you.”

The rattle of keys and thunder of footsteps come through in bursts from the background. “Where are you?”

“Not far from home.” I peer past Caroline to the hillside beyond. “My car went off the road. I’m afraid to climb up in case the men are still here.”

“What men?” The roar of a V8 starting precedes his phone switching over to Bluetooth.

“I think they were Italian from how they spoke.” I flick my attention back to my deceased best friend. “I don’t know what they said, but they were after me.”

Tires squeal. “How do you know? Keep talking to me, Nastasya. What did they say?”

My shoulders hit the roof of the car behind me, gaze fixed on where Caroline’s blood drips in a steady beat on the exposed skin of my knee. “They shot her through the eye, Dmitry.” My throat thickens.

“Who?” He pauses to holler at someone in his native tongue—Russian. “Who did they shoot?”

My voice breaks, free palm upturned to catch all that remains of a beautiful life. “Caroline. They took mybliznets, Dmitry.”They took my twin.

Stunning, with a mane of pale golden hair, Caroline’s fine features kept the boys chasing after her—even when she proved her heart belonged to her studies. We’ve often been told that we could pass for sisters—a detail we’d use to our advantage when the urge to be mischievous overtook us.

Ultimately, a fact that got her killed.

Whoever the men here tonight were, they got the wrong woman—a simple mistake that will ultimately be their undoing. The authorities won’t know about this accident tonight. No. Once Dmitry gets here, the details become the responsibility of our family. Come morning, the car will be gone, the undergrowth showing little sign of disturbance.

My father will be told.

And once the report reaches his ears, there’s no turning back, no chance for forgiveness.

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