Page 58 of Vow of Silence

Her throat bobs, gaze locked on the device. She fights her instincts; I intend to set them free. I coax her to face me, pulling her close for a soft kiss.I’ll be by your side.

The muscles beneath my touch relax, and she sighs, forehead against mine. “I guess it’s about time I proved my dedication to the brotherhood.” Stas swallows hard. “Let’s pay those fuckers a visit.”

Shoulders back, she sits straighter and stares me dead in the eye.

“I want you to teach me how to kill a man, Benito.”

She’s perfect. So perfect.

And she’s fucking mine.

TWENTY-THREE

Nastasya

Ithought I was okay until just now. I’d managed to accept that Caroline was dead and that my life would never be what it once was—or so I thought. All it took was a reality check from the man who understands me better than most, and the fragility of my mindset was thrust into the light.

I’m not okay.

I might have accepted the truth for what it is, but I sure as hell haven’t come to terms with what it means.

I’ve resisted Papa for years, angered that he keeps me out of the family business. But why? Ask me a month ago, and I would have told you the inequality of the situation tore a hole in my heart. But perhaps it was the desire to know the forbidden, the pull of the unknown?

Now that I see the other side, I’m not so sure it was worth the grief. I had a chance to live an ignorant life. Sheltered? Sure. But it was also the closest the daughter of apakhanwould ever come to a mainstream existence.

I glance at Benito as he drives, drinking in the hard set of his brow and how his jaw shifts from side to side, as though he attempts to unhinge the tension that keeps his broad shoulders rigid behind the wheel.

He never had the luxury of playing pretend amongst the general populous like I have. He’s never held down a “real” job. Never filled his weekends with idle social occasions or spent evenings feeding his hobbies. He was marked to be who he is from the moment he was born. Groomed to be the man he is today from the moment he could comprehend what went on around him.

Even when we first met, he held himself with a maturity that surpassed his young years. The men around him shaped him—his brothers the same—without the careless abandon a childhood in the suburbs would have given him. There was no backyard football and no cruising on his bicycle with classmates until dark.

He wore a fucking suit to dinner.

He was goddamn nineteen.

This is all he knows, and as much as I hate to say it, I’ll need him to help me through this transition. I ride shotgun in his car while we head toward the event that’ll mark my ascension into the life I’m gifted.

I was born Bratva, but until now, I haven’tbeenBratva.

There’s no blood on my hands. No lives were altered by the consequences of my actions. Well, none other than Caroline, and that was entirely out of my control.Or was it?What constitutes control? I didn’t pull the trigger, but I put her in the car. I made her a part of my life, knowing what dangers lurk around the corner.

Shit.Alessio was right. If I care about people, I’ll remove them from my life before somebody else does. And maybe I knew that, somewhere deep down where I try not to tread? After all, I’ve struggled to immerse myself back into my work since that night. Grief plays a part, yeah, but how much was my subconscious holding me back? If I’m honest, it just feltweirdto engage with my employees after my best friend was murdered.

Caroline’s death not only highlighted my naivety but it shone a light on how I’ve played pretend up until now. Knowing it couldn’t last forever, I built a “normal” life. The only way I could have stayed doing what I have would be if I cut myself off from the family, and there’s only one way you remove the connection when you’re born Bratva: death.

The vehicle slows, and Benito’s headlights cast a bright arc over the façade of a small single-level dwelling. I welcome the distraction as I run my gaze across the residence. Chain-link hangs from the frame of the fence, crooked and with holes in places. The gate is missing entirely. I lean forward to put my shoes back on while Benito reverses the Defender into a parking space on the opposite side of the road, angle-parked for a presumably quick getaway.

Shit’s about to get real. I can feel my heartbeat through the seat at my back.

You okay?

Two words light up his smartphone between us.

Am I? I don’t know. What is okay? Is it okay to want this, toneedthis? Who’s to say?

“Is that where they live?”

No. It’s where they are today, though.

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