Page 119 of Vendetta Crown

"And no matter what you want to believe right now, this is not your fault," I whisper into her hair. "It's his. Not yours."

Her tears soak through my shirt as she presses her face harder against my shoulder. I rock her gently, my own tears falling silently onto her head.

* * *

After what feels like hours,Mikayla is no longer sobbing, just crying silently against me.

Her body occasionally shudders with quiet gasps. I keep stroking her hair, remembering how desperately I wished for someone to hold me like this when my own family was murdered.

To tell me that it wasn't my fault.

The floorboards in the hallway creak. I look up to see Ruslan standing in the doorway, his face a mask of grim determination. Blood spatters the collar of his shirt. His eyes meet mine, and in that single glance, I know that he knows.

Something passes between us in that silent moment. A shared understanding of the horror Kristofer has inflicted on his family.

No, not just his family. Our family.

Ruslan walks in quietly and sits beside us on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and Mikayla stiffens against me, sensing his presence. She pulls back from my embrace and wipes tear tracks from her face with trembling fingers, trying to compose herself.

"Where's her body?" she asks, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Ruslan's jaw clenches. "We don't know yet,dorogaya." His voice is steady but tight with controlled rage. "I've sent Artyom and some men to find her. Once they do, we'll bring her home and give her a proper funeral."

Mikayla nods, her body still shaking slightly. "Will you stay a moment, Uncle Ruslan?"

I watch her rally her strength, trying to be brave despite her world collapsing around her. It breaks my heart to see her this way—trying to be strong when no child should have to be.

Ruslan nods, settling himself on the edge of the bed. I keep my arm around Mikayla, feeling her trembling slowly subside as she draws strength from her uncle's presence.

Just then, Daria appears in the doorway, her usual composure slightly fractured by concern.

"The little ones are in bed," she says softly. "Vera Tikhonovna helped me get them settled."

Her eyes move to Mikayla's tear-stained face.

"What happened?" she asks.

"Later," Ruslan says, his voice carrying a finality that brooks no argument.

Daria takes in the three of us: Mikayla tucked against me, Ruslan rigid with controlled fury, and the visible grief swirling in the room.

She nods once, sharply, and withdraws without another word.

The silence that follows presses down on us.

"Will you tell Stella and Sofia?" Mikayla finally asks, her voice small but steady.

I feel her body tense against mine, bracing for the answer she already knows is coming.

"I have to," Ruslan says gently. "This isn't something I can keep from them forever."

My heart twists at the thought of those two little girls learning their mother is gone. I imagine Sofia's gap-toothed smile dissolving into tears, Stella's tiny hand reaching for someone who will never hold it again.

Fresh tears burn behind my eyes.

"Wait until morning. Please?" Mikayla pleads. "Let them have one more night where she's still alive to them."

One more night of innocence before their world changes forever.

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