Page 126 of Vendetta Vows

Orchestral music floats through the air as the string quartet plays something that should soothe my nerves.

But instead, all the music does is heighten my anxiety.

My gaze drifts past the floral arrangements to the men stationed at regular intervals around the perimeter, guns held tightly in their hand as their eyes scan the grounds for any sign of trouble.

"Beautiful day for a wedding," Daria murmurs. "And you look beautiful as well, dear."

It is beautiful. Sunshine streams through the trees, creating dappled patterns on the path. But I can't stop looking at the guards...

When I first arrived here, those same men with their steady hands and watchful eyes had made me feel protected. Safe from Kristofer's shadow. Safe from the man who tried to murder me in my apartment after Mikhail's death

But today, they feel like prison guards.

Daria stops abruptly, and I nearly collide with her back. Her posture straightens up, and there's a slight yet noticeable tremor running along her arm.

I step from behind Daria and catch sight of an imposing figure standing at the end of the path.

He looks old, somewhere in his late sixties if I had to guess, but he gives off no impression of his age.

In spite of his age, he is still a solid mountain of a man whose presence seems to command the very air around him. His white beard is neatly trimmed on his chiseled face. The paleness of his impeccable cream suit makes the bright red shirt underneath pop like fresh blood against snow.

And his piercing blue eyes are locked onto mine.

He studies me not with lust but with assessment, like I'm a horse being sized up before auction. When his gaze finds Liliya's ring adorning my finger, something flickers across his face before disappearing behind the mask of calculation.

"I am here to walk the bride down the aisle, Daria Zakharovna," he announces, his voice resonating with authority that brooks no argument. "You may leave now."

Daria bows and skitters away, walking quickly as if she can't wait to put as much distance between them as she can.

Wait a minute… I recognize that voice.

It's the same one that spoke to Ruslan about his future following the funeral.

Gregor Belov.

"Have you thought this decision through, Ms. Castellanos?" His tone implies he already knows I haven't.

"I have." I straighten my spine, determined to not show him just how much he intimidates me. "And I'm not going anywhere else."

"Very brave," he nods, his words echoing Liliya's warning.Bravery is not enough.

He extends his arm toward me. "Come."

I place my hand on his forearm, feeling the expensive fabric of his suit beneath my fingertips. And that's when another overwhelming wave of grief crashes through me.

It should be dad walking me down this aisle, proud and teary-eyed, whispering some terrible dad joke to calm my nerves, and not this terrifying mountain of a man.

But dad's not here.

He's nothing but dust and bones in Kansas City.

Look what you made me do.

I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. Their deaths sit heavy on my shoulders. It's all my fault.

But even through this crushing guilt, I know what I'm doing is something right. Ruslan's nieces need protection from men like Gregor. Men who see children as chess pieces to be sacrificed. Monsters like Kristofer exist in every world. And if by doing this, I might be able to help keep Mikayla, Stella, and Sofia safe from those monsters, then it'll be worth it.

I feel Gregor's arm pulling me along as we begin the slow processional through the rows of seated guests. My eyes sweep over the crowd at faces I don't recognize.

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