Page 23 of Vendetta Crown

"He did all of that?"

I don't need to look to know what he's talking about. Kristofer's teeth marks, purple and angry against my skin.

I nod.

"What else?"

My heart hammers against my ribs. For a second, I debate about showing him. Because what good would showing him do? It won't change what happened. It won't erase the marks or help them heal faster.

But something in me knows he needs to see.

I need him to see.

Slowly, I adjust my towel to reveal the bruises on my breasts where Kristofer's fingers mauled the tender flesh.

My fingers tremble as I open the towel further to expose the inside of my left thigh and the unmistakable pattern of fingers that pinched and squeezed during that endless car ride.

Then I drop the towel completely to the floor, and show Ruslan the welts on my hips, each one a vivid reminder of Kristofer's possessive grip.

"He kept telling me how I belonged to him." The words feel like broken glass in my throat. "The whole time."

Ruslan crosses the distance between us like a ghost, his movements so careful that it breaks my heart. His hands hover over me, not quite touching, as if afraid I might shatter.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, pulling me gently against him. "I'm so sorry, Aurora. I should have?—"

"Stop." I reach up, pressing my fingers against his lips. "You need to stop apologizing. You weren't the one who did this to me."

His eyes shine with unshed tears as he cradles my face in his hands. "I'll kill him for this," he promises, his voice rough with emotion. "I swear to you, he'll never touch you again."

I shake my head. "That's exactly what he'll expect us to do." My fingers curl against his chest. "And he'll be preparing for it."

Looking into Ruslan's eyes, I can see the murderous rage building behind his controlled expression. The muscle in his jaw twitches as his hands tighten on my shoulders.

"No amount of preparation by Kristofer will stop me from killing him," he growls. "I'll tear him apart with my bare hands."

"It's not that simple." I pull away and reach for the robe hanging on the bathroom door. "Think about what's happening."

"What's there to think about?" His voice turns cold as ice. "He hurt you. He dies."

I cinch the robe tight, feeling momentarily grounded by the soft fabric against my bruised skin. "Kristofer isn't working alone. He's working with Semyon."

Ruslan's brow furrows. "What makes you say that?"

"The photos of your nieces from your security cameras. They were in the same package addressed to me." I count off on my fingers. "Tamara gained access to those cameras, yes. But how did Kristofer get them?"

Ruslan paces across the room, his footsteps heavy.

"And when Potyomkin rescued me, one of his men was from the Mikonov bratva. I noticed the tattoos." I push damp hair from my face. "And Vera confirmed that more Mikonov men have been appearing in Vegas lately."

Ruslan stops pacing, his attention fully focused on me.

"Potyomkin told me he couldn't kill Kristofer because of his position as the head of police in Kansas City," I continue. "But that info came from the same Mikonov man. How could he know that unless Semyon had briefed them all?"

"Potyomkin told me that the Triads are also after Vegas money," Ruslan says. "And that Semyon sent him men under the guise of assistance. But in reality, they're a threat and reminder of Semyon's reach."

"That makes sense." I take a breath, steadying myself. "I thought it was weird that he agreed to my demand for Vera to come with me. But if what you say is true, then what he really wants is to keep her from all the Mikonov men in Vegas. He's scared of what Semyon might do to her. Especially now that she's pregnant."

Ruslan stares at me, and I watch his face slowly morph. His anger hasn't diminished, but now it's focused and calculating.

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