Page 70 of Vow of Silence

Fucking knew it.

“Those assholes have taken almost everything from us, Nastasya.” He fidgets with a chip in the door frame. “They’re no more ourfriendsthan the Cubans, the Albanians, or the Irish if you want to call a spade a spade. Gennaro may like to pretend we’re great allies, but how can that be when they live in luxury and we squalor in their shadow?” He tosses a hand wide, gesturing to our home.

My home. The place where I grew up. Where memories were made—both good and bad.

“That hasn’t always been the case, though, has it?” I trap my lower lip between my teeth and bite hard enough to elicit pain, redirecting my focus to save the tears from coming. “You and Ignazio were close enough, once, to deem it necessary to conduct business in private.”

He flinches before turning away slightly to hide his face, hands on his hips. “Who did you speak to? Does this come from Benito?”

“It comes from me,” I reply. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“But he told you this lie?” Papa throws one hand in the air, winding his wrist.

“No.” I swallow.

His attention trains on the simple movement. “Are you sure, my love?” Saccharine sweet words from a seasoned con artist. “You wouldn’t lie to your papa now, would you?”

“Only if he’d lie to me.”

My father’s eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare once. A raging bull ready to charge. “You make one grave accusation, my girl, putting me in bed with that conniving bastard.”

“It’s only an accusation if it holds no merit.” I tell the truth. There’s no guesswork involved here; he met with Ignazio nine and a half years ago, and Benito paid the price.

Now, I suffer the same fate.

“Why was I the target that night?” I ask softly. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“The fault doesn’t lie with you,” he snaps. This much appears to be true. His furrowed brow and pinched gaze spell guilt—remorse. His words soften. “It pains me to think you could have met the same fate as Caroline.” His throat bobs. “That I could have lost you too.”

“If my accusations are so wrong, tell me the truth, Papa.” My arms shake at my sides, legs like jelly. Yet I refuse to fold. “Explain to me why I’m so damn entangled in something that has nothing to do with me. Dignify me with an explanation and help me protect myself.” I dig my bare heels in, anchoring myself to the tiles while I wait for his answer. “You put me into their home,knowingthey’re involved in Caroline’s death, and expect me to believe it’s solely for my safety? How stupid do you think I am? You’ve waited a decade to position me there, and I want to know why.”

“It’s too complicated, Nastasya.” He lifts his head, silver locks distressed across his eye as he begs me with his gaze for forgiveness. “Youcouldn’tunderstand. Even I struggle to rationalize all the things that have happened.” Papa crosses the floor, arms outstretched to hold me in a comforting embrace.

I take a step back.

He acts as though I physically hit him with how hard he flinches in response. “This distance between us pains me,moya malen’kaya roza. I wish that we were closer, especially since we share the loss of your mother.” He pauses to swallow, releasing a sigh through his nose. “We need each other.”

Like fuck we do.“You have a strange way of showing that.”

“What do you mean?” He groans the question, fed up with the disconnect in our communication.

I huff out my nose in disdain. “You know exactly what I mean. You keep yourself occupied with the business of the brotherhood. The same stuff you refuse to involve me in, so tell me again, how am I supposed to get near you? To build a bond between us?” I fold my arms, tucking the water and bar beside my ribs. “That would be if I even wanted to.”

“What happened to you, Nastasya?” His tone shifts, but I’m not fool enough to believe the sudden softness.

“What happened tome?” I let my jaw hang slack. “I can’t believe you need to ask that.”

“We used to be inseparable, you and I.” Papa paces the floor, the rage seeping back into his maddened gaze. “You were happy here. Proud of your heritage.”

“Maybe when Mama was still alive.” I drop my gaze to the rug. We run in circles, Papa and me. The conversation won’t go anywhere. Not now, not ever. “I have details I need to go over for Lana. Are we done?”

He answers with an uncomfortable silence reminiscent of the kind I’m fated to share with Benito. The image of the woman’s face today flashes unbidden into my mind. I shut my eyes and count to ten, reaching four before Papa graces me with a spoken answer.

“Where did he take you today? At least tell me what that dog wanted with you.”

I didn’t think it’d be that easy. That all he cared about was that I made it home safe—alive. “What does it matter?” Ivan appears in my periphery, hovering in the shadows. The jerk probably wondered why I wasn’t back in my room yet; it shouldn’t take this long to run to the kitchen quickly. “You’ve told me repeatedly that I have no relevance to the business, so what does it matter where he took me?”

“Because things aren’t safe out there for you.” Once more, I find genuine concern in my father’s tone. It leaves me disgustingly unsettled. “Until the person responsible for the attack is held accountable, you’ll remain at risk.”

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