Page 64 of Kings of Cruelty

Giulio fucking Pavone.

I know that name, and I curse myself for not having picked up on it earlier.

Why the hell are Konstantin and I having a double date with a sex trafficker?

“Yeah. Complicated,” I say, knowing my voice has gone icy but unable to contain my disgust. “Excuse me.” I get up abruptly, regretting it instantly as waves of nausea spill over me, but I can’t stay here. I can’t look at him. I can’t deal with the knowledge clicking into place with everyone’s strange behavior.

I hurry off before anyone can stop me, heading straight for the bathroom.

I’m barely in a stall before I’m throwing up, the fancy door still open behind me as everything I’d eaten comes back up.

“Sierra?” a female voice says from behind me.

God, fuck. Why?

“I don’t… want to talk to you,” I tell Vanessa fucking Pavone.

I wipe at my mouth before waving my hand in front of the sensor to get the toilet to flush. She steps out of the way so I can get to the marble sink, and I rinse my mouth out to try to rid the taste of the vomit.

She has the audacity to look confused as she asks, “I’m sorry about Giulio. He’s… He’s a very big child, sometimes. You have to ignore his needling.”

“His needling?” I ask with a humorless laugh. “Oh, that’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

Vanessa still looks bewildered. “Did I say something wrong?”

“How do you even look at him?” I say through clenched teeth. “How the fuck do you let himtouchyou?”

I see the realization dawning on her, and her shoulders slump as sadness overtakes her features. “Ah,” she says quietly.

“Ah?” I reply, glaring at her. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Sierra…”

I don’t reply.

After several long seconds, she goes on, “It’s complicated. As complicated as your relationship with Konstantin Voronkov is, I’d say.”

“You don’t know anything about myrelationshipwith Konstantin,” I snap.

Her eyes are intent upon mine in the mirror as she replies, “You’re right. I don’t know anything about you, Konstantin, or your relationship.” Her voice is gentle, but that sets me more on edge. “But I can make a few guesses.” She gestures to my chest, where the brand is even more apparent than it had been.

I try to pull the straps of the dress over it, but it’s pointless. I glance around the bathroom. It’s empty except for us, but I still need to watch my words. “I’m not theirslave, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at,” I hiss at her. “They don’t own me.”

She flinches. I should feel vindicated that the verbal blow had landed, but I’m bitter about it. Because she’s complicit, because there are so many things thatIam complicit in, because how the fuck am I any better than she is? I’m trying to help Konstantin and the others find a missing weapons cache that they can sell to people who have every intention of using those weapons on other people.

Is ending lives really so different from destroying them?

It has to be. Violence to those in this lifestyle is different from violence to those who don’t choose it.

But is everyone they use those weapons on culpable?

“I know who he is,” I say as steadily as I can manage despite the shock and nausea still hitting me like cold water to the face. “I know what he does.”

Vanessa at least has the courtesy to look ashamed as she turns away from me. I can still see her expression in the mirror, though.

The worst part is that I don’t think her gentleness or her sadness are feigned. I think they’re genuine, and that somehow makes the whole thing worse.

“How the fuck do you do it?” I demand. “How do you let someone like that even come near you and your children?”

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