Page 35 of The Vendetti Soldier

Hell, who am I kidding? I’m already worried. Luciano has the power to put me at ease, however, so I keep trying—being the annoying clingy spouse I promised myself I’d never be.

And… I get nothing in return. No response of any kind from the man claiming he’ll take care of me. I storm for the door in a huff, only to discover at some point during my fretting, it’s been locked from the outside. I didn’t know it was possible to be confined in here from the other side, but apparently it is. Does Luciano know someone possesses a way to keep us in place when they want to?

Shit, for all I know,hecould be the one caging me away.

I try Santino, breaking down in a moment of weakness. Of course, he doesn’t respond, and it only further drives in the possibility of him and Luciano being together. With Mischa. And the Capo. Fuck.

As the night grows darker, the light fading from the expansive windows, I can’t help but clench my fists in frustration. The air’s become thick with tension and my many unanswered questions from all of my relentless pacing I’ve been doing. My feet carrying me back and forth through the main sitting room in our wing, unable to rest. The silence is suffocating to the point every creak of the floorboards and groans from the icy, strong winds echo, morphing into a thunderous roar in my ears. The minutes drag on like an eternity, and no matter how many times I go to our kitchenette, I can’t bring myself to eat any of the various delicious snacks waiting.

Wine and grapes won’t solve my problems, and every time I see them, it only serves to remind me I’ve been stuck in this damn room. I want to scream. I don’t, but Christ, I’m losing it over here.

Eventually, I have to make myself remove my clothing and lay in our oversized bed. It’s no use to keep checking the door, only to find I’m still not allowed to leave. Tossing and turning, it’s impossible to get comfortable in the same bed I once believed to be the best place in this entire Estate. Right now, I want to take a knife to the decadence and slash it up to expunge some of this tension I’m carrying. Rip the fucking curtains from the windows. Stab through the lavish paintings and rip through the bedding. I’m not toxic… it’s this fucking mansion. With all these powerful men under one roof… that’s concerning; they’re the ones to truly fear in the middle of the night.

I don’t dare call Papa either; this situation would worry him too badly, especially being so far away and powerless when it comes to the Vendettis. He’d most likely have a heart attack on the spot if I told him what’s going on, and it’s the last thing he needs. No, I have to handle this myself.

No matter how many times I close my eyes, begging myself to calm down, I’m hardly able to sleep. My mind’s far too consumed with worry over Mischa, the thoughts haunting me in my dreams, making me jerk and wake, gasping several times. The darkness seems to stretch on endlessly as I attempt to tell myself I can put my faith in the Vendettis. Each time I doze off, I find myself thrashing around, waking from wild dreams while my heart’s heavy with fear.

Mischa has been in every part of my life; we shared a womb from day one. I’m supposed to be her protector,me. Yet, here I lay, a miserable, useless Bratva prince. A lot of good the title seems to be doing for me.

When dawn finally breaks, I wake with a start, my eyes snapping to discover Luciano sitting at the edge of our bed. His expression’s closed off, as his usual calm demeanor has been replaced by a face full of exhaustion. “Luciano,” I manage to choke out, my throat dry from a night spent tossing and turning, filled with my restless anxiety. “Is my sister okay? What happened to Mischa? Why didn’t you return my texts?” Once the first question leaves me, the others pepper out, one right after the other.

He meets my worried stare, his own filled with a sadness in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. “Mischa... she’s been caught digging in Empire business. She’s been questioned and punished,” he responds quietly but firmly, his words hanging heavy in the air between us. My heart feels like it stops at his revelation, the world around me spinning out of focus.

What the fuck has happened to my precious sister?

“What did they do to her? What didyoudo?” I demand, on the verge of losing it.

His gaze pierces through me, dark and inscrutable. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if I’ll be punished next for whatever crime they’ve decided she’s committed. My heart leaps into my throat as Luciano stands, moving by the window. His silhouette’s outlined by the sun breaking through the dawn, filtering through the curtains. He’s always so tragically beautiful, one thing he has in common with Santino.

“Matteo had her internet history searched,” he replies bluntly before tugging the curtain closed and stealing away some more of the pale light. “As I said, she was digging through information she shouldn’t be looking for. She has no idea what that means in this famiglia.”

I sip from my water on the side table, my feet planted firmly on the plush ivory fur rug that runs under part of our bed, in a massive circle. “What did they do to her?”I have to help her.It’s the only thought racing through my mind, and I can’t share it with him right now. He may try to stop me, and I cannot allow it.

“She received a warning. Capo wants her to stop. Made it clear to me and Santy to handle our moglie.”

A gasp spills from me as I shoot to my feet. The last thing I want to do is hurt this man who has quickly become one of the most important people in my life, but I will do what I have to for my family, even if it kills me in the process and I never recover from it. Her safety is everything; it’s always been the one thing I’ve sworn to uphold to Papa. “Y-you—” I nearly accuse, but he interrupts me before the words have a chance to leave my mouth.

To poison our marriage.

“Sit down! Now,” he orders, pointing to the bed. His demand is crystal clear, but how do I obey when I’m filled with so muchemotion?

My lower lip trembles as I realize he’s not going to make leaving this room easy on me. I will have to fight him. The thought makes me sick inside.

His brow raises,a warning, waiting until I sit to continue. “We took Mischa with us to a room we had designed specifically for her. We made her listen, to understand her true role here, and to accept it. She needed to see reason, and it was up to us to do what we had to-to get her to agree.”

A tear escapes, one I didn’t know had gathered in the first place. “You hurt her? You took vows, not only to me but to her! We all exchanged those words under God, as one, the four of us. And now, I learn you and her husband have what… tortured her?”

How could he do this? Not only to her but to me. We will never be the same.

His brow furrows, confusion replacing his tiredness and the irritation that had been there momentarily before. “What?” he answers, clearly shocked by my question, but why would he be? He admitted it a moment ago, to taking her to a room designed to get what they wanted out of her. I’m assuming he’s referencing the dungeons I’ve heard about.

My poor, poor sister.

“Y-you took her to the dungeon? The rooms in the basement?” I can barely say the words aloud, nearly stuttering over each with the implication so brutal and heartbreaking it feels as if my soul is being crushed. To learn of my sister’s fate this way,I should’ve broken down the godforsaken door by whatever means necessary last night and found her. I may’ve died, but perhaps I could’ve saved some of her suffering.

He storms to me then, and I can’t help but think that this is it. He’s going to kill me next or demand I bow to the Empire, but I can no longer do so after they’ve taken Mischa from me and Papa. His hand shoots out, and I jerk away. His mouth drops open, gaping at my response. “Baby!Mio bell’uomo, what’s the meaning of this? You pull away from me?”

He tries again, coming to sit beside me. This time both of his hands moving toward me are slow as a snail. He allows me to watch their approach before finally, tenderly cupping both of my cheeks. I can make out the worry in his irises in the dim light, and it only serves to confuse my muddled thoughts more. “You think I tortured Mischa? That I would ever lay a hand on you to physically harm you?”

---