Page 101 of Vendetta Vows

"If she can no longer be that solution," Mikayla continues, her voice dropping, "then Semyon will find another use for her."

Her eyes burn into mine as she leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper.

"You have no idea what she endured. You never heard her screams."

"Mikayla, I?—"

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

"You sit there judging her because of what Uncle Ruslan told you, but you weren't there." She's blinking fiercely now and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "You didn't have to cover Sofia and Stella's ears with pillows at night. You didn't have to comfort them when they asked why Mama was crying in the morning. You never had to explain why she wore high collars to hide the bruises around her neck."

I swallow hard, shame washing over me. I never considered she might be a victim in her own right.

"Whoever Semyon forces my mother to marry will be someone just as awful," Mikayla continues, her voice breaking slightly. "It'll be a man who won't see her as a person but just another asset to be traded. A womb on a pair of legs."

The realization washes over me cold and clear: a marriage between Tamara and Ruslan would've been as much about safety for Tamara as anything else.

And now...

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words tasting bitter. "I didn't realize."

"Uncle Ruslan might not care for my mother after what she did to the Garza girl," Mikayla continues, her voice so small it barely carries across the table. "But it's impossible for me not to care."

My heart stutters. The Garza girl. That must be who Ruslan was referring to whenever he spoke of his childhood sweetheart who died because of Tamara.

"She's cold and distant, yes, but she's still my mother." Mikayla's voice cracks. "Stella and Sofia still run to her when they have nightmares. And now…"

A tear slides down her cheek, followed by another.

In that moment, I see past the bratva princess facade to the scared fifteen-year-old beneath. She's watching her entire world collapse around her. First her father and brother, and now she fears losing her mother too.

"I know what's coming." Mikayla wipes at her tears, but they keep coming. "I know how all of this will inevitably end."

Her voice breaks completely.

I understand what she can't say. She's seeing a future where both her parents are dead because of bratva politics. My chest aches for her.

Before I can second-guess myself, I rise from my chair, walk to her side of the table, and wrap my arms around her narrow shoulders.

Her body shakes with silent sobs. After a moment, she turns her face into my shoulder and cries in earnest, clinging to me like she's drowning.

"This is our reality," she finally chokes out. "This is the way it has always been. The moment Gregor chose Uncle Ruslan to take my father's place, everyone's fate was sealed."

I hold Mikayla as her body shakes with sobs, her tears soaking through my blouse. My arms tighten around her, this fifteen-year-old girl carrying burdens that would crush most adults. Each desperate cry cuts through me like glass.

"We'll find a way to keep everyone safe," I whisper, stroking her hair. "Your mother included."

The words only make her cry harder. Her fingers dig into my arms as she clings to me.

"You still don't understand," she chokes out between sobs. "There is no other way! Not in our world."

I pull back slightly, lifting her chin so I can look into her eyes. "Mikayla, I promise you?—"

"Don't make promises you can't keep!" She wrenches away from me. "My mother will never give up her dream of marrying Uncle Ruslan. Never."

I open my mouth, but no words come. What can I possibly say that won't sound like me grasping at straws?

"She's been obsessed with him since they were children. She believes he's meant to save her." Mikayla wipes furiously at her tears. "To love her the way that my father never did."

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