Page 89 of Vendetta Vows

"If you keep tapping your fingers on your legs like that, you're going to wear a hole in those jeans."

My hands freeze mid-motion. I hadn't even realized I was doing it. "I guess I am. A little nervous," I admit. "It's not every day a girl gets fitted for a wedding dress after agreeing to marry a man she barely knows."

His golden eyes soften. "You have nothing to be nervous about. Lauren Brooks is both an excellent dressmaker and very discreet. She's done many dresses for bratva weddings."

"By 'discreet,' do you mean she won't tell anyone that the bride looked like she might throw up?"

The corner of Ruslan's mouth twitches. "I meant that she won't leak your identity."

"Right." I take a deep breath and lean closer to him. "Thank you, by the way. For last night with Mikayla. I know it wasn't easy."

"It was your suggestion that worked." There's genuine warmth in his voice. "Giving her space instead of demanding obedience."

Pride blooms in my chest. It feltgoodstanding up for someone. Even better that Ruslan actually listened.

"Did you..." I hesitate, uncertain if I want to open this particular door. "Did you ever think a day like this might come? For you, I mean."

The shadow passes over his face. It's the same darkness that appears whenever I edge too close to his past. I expect him to change the subject or offer some vague deflection.

Instead, he surprises me.

"I did." His voice is quiet, almost reverent. "A long time ago."

My heart skips. "What happened?"

His eyes meet mine, and the raw pain I see there squeezes my heart.

"She died."

Two simple words that carry the weight of mountains. I recognize the look in his eyes because I've seen it in my own reflection. That haunted knowledge that someone was taken from you, and there was nothing you could've done to stop it.

I slip my hand into Ruslan's and give it a gentle squeeze. His large palm engulfs mine, warm and strong, and I'm struck by how natural this gesture has become between us.

"I'm so sorry, Ruslan," I whisper.

His golden eyes find mine. "You have nothing to be sorry for,zarechka."

The words hang between us. Loss recognizes loss.

"I am just sorry that she had her life stolen from her," he says, his thumb tracing small circles on my hand. "Because of me."

Guilt twists through me like a knife. He doesn't know just how closely his words touch my truth. Jamie Fields stole someone else's life as well. The real Aurora Castellanos died alone on that road in the Eastern Sierras, and I stole her name, her future, her everything.

All so that I might selfishly stay alive.

I focus my gaze at our interlocked hands. And that's when my eyes land on the small tattoo on the back of his hand that I've noticed before.

A delicate bird with broken wings, nestled among the bolder designs that cover his skin.

I remember thinking it seemed out of place when I first saw it, too fragile compared to the rest. And now, with just a small bit of knowledge regarding his past pain, I can't help but wonder…

"That bird tattoo." I run my finger gently over it. "Did you get it to remember her by?"

Ruslan's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise that's quickly replaced by something like admiration.

"I continue to underestimate your perceptive skills,zarechka." He turns his hand over, examining the tattoo himself. "No, I got this when I was sixteen. We both did. Matching tattoos. It was her idea."

My throat tightens. "Childhood sweetheart?"

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