Page 49 of Vendetta Vows

"I remember everything you said that night." Ruslan's eyes never leave mine.

I laugh. A small, broken sound. "And here I thought I was just reading a terrible script that evening."

"You were, though." He leans against the windowsill, his massive frame somehow making the spacious room feel smaller. "Just because I add my own experience into the stories, doesn't mean they're automatically good. Not every story in the bratva has a happy ending."

The raw grief in his voice makes my chest ache. Despite everything, I find myself stepping toward him, closing the distance I'd created.

There's something so tragically beautiful about him in this moment. A man caught between worlds and forced to balance violence and vulnerability.

"Real people are always more complicated than the stories we want to tell," I say.

My fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to comfort him somehow. The impulse shocks me. I haven't wanted genuine connection in so long.

But I understand his pain. Know what it's like to have family ripped away in violence.

To be left with nothing but grief and questions and rage.

I break the silence first, my voice too loud in the quiet room. "What happens next?"

Ruslan's expression shifts, becoming unreadable. "First, I'll have someone clean up the body from your apartment."

The clinical way he says it makes me shiver. Like he's talking about removing a stain from a carpet, and not a human being.

"Next, I'll hold a funeral for my brother and nephew."

A tremor runs through his shoulders, almost imperceptible.

"Then, and only then, can I think about what happens next."

Reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water. A man was murdered in my bedroom. Two members of Ruslan's family are dead. And I'm standing in a fortress of a mansion talking to a man who killed someone right in front of me.

What the hell am I doing here?

"Until the funeral is done, you should stay in this room," Ruslan says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Both Mikhail and Lev being killed on the same day is no coincidence."

I wrap my arms around myself.

"The fact that someone tried to kill you, the only witness to Mikhail's hit?" Ruslan continues. "Also not a coincidence."

The word 'hit' jolts through me. Not accident. Not tragedy. No murder.

Hit.

Just like in the movies. Except this is real.

I've stumbled into the very world I ridiculed in the script. The irony would be funny if I weren't so terrified.

"I have an idea who might be behind these murders," Ruslan says, rubbing his jaw. "But I won't know for certain until the funeral."

His eyes darken with something dangerous. "I can't risk you being seen by the same people who ordered the hit."

"Does that make me your prisoner?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

Ruslan shakes his head. "I'm not trying to keep you as my prisoner, Aurora."

"I understand." And strangely enough, I do.

He gestures to a panel near the bed. "If you need anything, there's a button you can press to summon Daria."

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