Page 32 of Vendetta Vows

Police. Investigators. Cameras. News crews.

Attention.

My heartbeat quickens to a painful rhythm as I back away from the chaos. Hannah's eyes find mine across the room, and she immediately understands. She pushes through the crowd toward me.

"Aurora, breathe," she whispers, gripping my trembling hands. "What do you need?"

"I have to go. I can't be here when the police come." My voice sounds distant, like it belongs to someone else.

"The police will want to talk to everyone?—"

"Hannah." I squeeze her hands so hard my knuckles turn white. "Please. Cover for me. Say I got sick and left early. Say anything."

She studies my face for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. Go. I'll handle it."

I slip away, taking advantage of the chaos. As soon as the set is behind me, I break into a run, and I don't stop stopping until I reach my car. My hands are shaking so badly that I can barely get the key in the ignition.

"You got comfortable," I hiss at myself as I drive. "You let your guard down, and now look what's happened."

I know Mikhail's death isn't my fault. Logic tells me that. But seven years of running has taught me that bad things will always find Jamie Fields when she starts getting comfortable.

Because the truth is: Aurora Castellanos might be innocent, but Jamie Fields will always be guilty.

10

RUSLAN

The phone vibratesagainst my thigh as I step out of the production meeting. I check the caller ID. It's my head of security, Artyom.

"What is it?" My voice carries the residual tension from arguing with investors for the past two hours.

"Ruslan Vitalyevich..." Artyom's voice falters, and my spine stiffens. He never hesitates. "It's Lev."

"What about him?" The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, the air too thin.

"He's dead."

The words hit like a physical blow. I brace myself against the wall, my lungs forgetting how to function.

"How?" The question scrapes from my throat.

"Professional hit. His car was forced against the median on the 405. Then gunmen—" Artyom's voice drops. "They came out and finished the job. Everyone in the car is dead. Lev, Grisha, both bodyguards."

My mind flashes to Lev's warning hours ago.The jungle is about to tear itself down. It's going to rebuild into something different.Had he known? Had he sensed the wolves circling?

"Mikhail," I manage to say, my nephew's face flashing before me. My chest constricts with something beyond grief. "Is he safe?"

"We don't know yet. Someone needs to get to him before they do."

I'm already moving before Artyom finishes speaking. "I'll find him. The studio isn't too far from here"

"Be careful. Whoever did this?—"

"Is a dead man." I cut him off, punching the elevator button repeatedly.

Inside my car, I slam the door and squeeze the steering wheel. For a moment, I can't move, paralyzed by the knowledge that the last words I said to my brother were bitter ones.

I may be on the outside looking in, but don't think for a moment that I haveeverstopped being Vitaly's son.

---