Page 73 of Vow of Silence

Even then, he never needed to say a word for me to feel his love. I never required that of him. Benito wasn’t the guy to read you a poem or declare his devotion in a song. He never orated the things I needed so that I felt wanted—seen.His actions have always spoken louder. His dedication displayed in the things he did for me.

The things hestilldoes for me.

I don’t have to hear himsaythat he loves me. I already know he does because of how he makes me feel inside. My hand drifts to my chest, palm gentle over the area that blooms with the realization. The void inside feels a little fuller, a little less dark. And all I had to do was think of him.

Imagine what he can do when we’re bound together for life.

The phone vibrates in my hand, the chime breaking through the fog of my thoughts. I take a steadying breath and drop my gaze to the notification banner at the top of the screen.

You won’t be alone for much longer.

No cute pet name to sign off his message. No term of endearment required to get his point across.

With Benito, I can always rely on the truth.

No bullshit. No excuses or lies. Just the heart of who he is and what he feels.

What we both feel.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Benito

Nastasya Kuznetsov showed me a secret side of her and then walked through her family gates as though she hadn’t sinned mere minutes earlier. I offered to take her home, skip the formalities, and make her the last thing I see every night starting today. She told me she has business with her father to sort first. She made me promise to wait.

I’m not a guy who likes to wait.

The things I asked her to do today, the lines I helped her step across … I don’t know if what I did eased her pain or made it worse. The kiss she gave before returning to Arseni’s halls told me I awoke a part of her that she probably wasn’t aware of. The submission of her body to me showed that she felt at ease with who she was—who she is. She’s eager to explore this new side of herself, hungry for another taste. But the fear in her eyes also told me she’s terrified of what it all means.

I understand. I was, as well, at the start.

Murder is a cardinal sin. The ignorance and sickness that comes when you enjoy taking another’s life is a bitter pill to swallow. Our base instinct is survival, and what makes us mortal is the ability to show empathy toward our fellow man. Innocent until proven guilty. There’s no room for that mindset when thosewho you may deem clear of blame could turn and stab you in the back the following day.

Judge, jury, and executioner. I’m tasked to be all three and expected to fulfill all three roles within a single visit. Leaving loose ends is careless work. Those men admitted guilt and tied their own noose. There was no question they’d all be dead before Stas and I walked out the door. The only question was who would be the one to do it. I offered her the role, thinking she’d get as far as lifting the gun to find that was all it took to put the demons to bed. I never expected her to embrace the role with such grace and power and pull the fucking trigger.

Arseni keeps his daughter as far from the brotherhood as her birthright allows. We’ve all assumed it was from his pure ignorance as an old-school gangster, agreeing amongst ourselves that he believes his daughter is inept purely because she’s a woman.

I wholeheartedly believe that to be bullshit after what I saw today. He’s told us that lie to shield everyone—including her—from the truth: if Nastasya were to discover her true strength and sit at the head of the table, she’d likely be one of the fiercest leaders they’ve ever had. With youth comes new ideas, renewed vigor, and the outside perspective required to move business forward.

He kept her docile for fear of her fire.

I follow the soft notes of Mama’s favorite music toward the parlor, my ear burning from the injury I received earlier. At this hour, my parents will share a drink in amicable silence to resolve the day. They call it quiet retrospection. I think it’s their version of meditation.

A peaceful half-hour to compartmentalize and come to terms with the decisions they’ve had to make in the name of the family.

I lift a hand to the torn shell of my ear, gingerly fingering where the blood clotted to seal the wound. My thoughts driftback to the drug-whore’s house, to when I stepped aside to clean the blood that had run down the side of my neck. Her nail tore me open, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the woman I love as she faced her monsters.

I would have let myself bleed if she hadn’t intervened and told me to step out of the room to clean the area before my shirt became too stained. I would have held a knife in my heart if it meant I didn’t miss the look of liberation in her eye when both men lay dead at her feet.

For her, for me. I don’t know whom I did it for more.

All I know is that it brought us both relief. But not closure. The original men won’t be after her, but the bounty remains. Until I find out why my cunt of an uncle wants her dead, this isn’t over.

“Benito,” Mama says with a sigh when I appear at the door. “Come join us.”

Papa slowly opens his eyes, dropping his chin from where he’d laid his head on the back of his chair. “How did it go?”

A nod.All done.Gratitude for his blessing.

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