Page 67 of Vendetta Vows

He leans back in his chair, swirling his wine. "Should I be concerned what you'll dare me to do?"

I laugh, the sound startling me with how natural it feels. "That depends on how truthful you are."

"Alright then." He gestures toward me. "You suggested it. You begin."

"Alright, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

I take a deep breath, staring at the deep crimson wine swirling in my glass. The questions I really want to ask Ruslan linger on my tongue, eager to escape. Why was he disowned? Why does he look so hurt and angry whenever Tamara's name comes up? What really happened between them?

But I know better. Those shadows that cross his face. They're the same ones I feel creeping over mine whenever thoughts of Kansas City surface.

Some demons aren't ready to be named aloud.

"Okay." I decide to wade into shallower waters. "What's the silliest thing you're afraid of?"

Ruslan's eyebrows rise slightly, clearly surprised by my choice of question. He takes a slow, deliberate sip of wine, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.

"Spiders," he admits, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

I blink at him. "Spiders? Seriously?"

"Seriously," he confirms, eyes twinkling with unexpected humor. "When I was five, Lev put a tarantula in my bed. It crawled up my leg while I was sleeping, and when I woke up, there it was. Staring at me in the face. I screamed so loud that my father thought someone was trying to kill me."

The image of a young Ruslan screaming over a spider makes me laugh. The sound, my real laugh and not the practiced one I've used for years, surprises me with its strength.

"That's awful of him."

Ruslan's smile turns wistful. "Believe it or not, that was one of my favorite memories of him. Because it reminded me of when we could still act like kids."

"What do you mean?"

His fingers trace the edge of his wine glass. "Two years after that, Lev turned eighteen, and father initiated him into the bratva." He pauses, his voice growing softer. "Part of his initiation required that he kill a man."

I gasp. The casual way he says it, like discussing a high school graduation, makes it all the more chilling.

"Eighteen?" I whisper, horrified.

Ruslan nods, his eyes distant. "Lev was never the same after that. The big brother who put spiders in my bed disappeared. Something harder took his place."

I see the pain etched across his features at the grief of losing his brother long before his actual death. No wonder he fights so hard to keep his nieces safe. No wonder he's willing to marry a stranger to protect them from that same fate.

"I'm sorry," I say, inadequate words for such a profound loss. "It's not fair what your father did to both of you."

Ruslan's expression shifts, that protective mask sliding back into place as he forces a smile.

"My turn now." His gold eyes catch mine. "Truth or dare,zarechka?"

Something about the way he says that nickname makes heat pool low in my belly. Maybe it's the wine, or the strange intimacy of this bizarre situation we've found ourselves in, but I feel reckless, bold.

"Truth," I say, surprising myself with my own courage.

Ruslan's eyes light up with interest. "Tell me about a moment from your past that still makes you smile, even if it feels bittersweet now."

My heart starts racing, and panic flares in my chest. He wants me to talk about my past? About Jamie Fields' life? The memories I've spent seven years burying?

But I was the one who suggested this game.

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