Page 35 of Vendetta Crown

"She came back because she needs me to protect her." The words feel hollow even as I say them. "She needs the guns, the men, and the security. She doesn't need me."

Artyom stands now, crossing to where I stand. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes." The admission feels like swallowing glass. "I do."

"You're missing the point," Artyom says, interrupting my spiral of self-doubt. "Aurora negotiated with Potyomkin on her own. Think about that for a minute."

I shake my head. "Because she had no choice?—"

"Let me finish." Artyom's voice hardens with the authority I've granted him. "She could've accepted whatever protection Potyomkin offered. Instead, she argued to pick up the reins that you left behind."

"That doesn't mean?—"

"Ruslan, when Aurora negotiated with Potyomkin, she was under the impression that you weredead." He steps closer, forcing me to meet his eyes. "In that moment, everything you claim she needs—guns, men, security—could've come directly from Potyomkin. But what did she pick?"

I wait for him to answer.

"She chose you,” Artyom says. "She chose to have all the things that would remind her of you. And that's not because she needed your guns or your protection. That's because she neededyou."

My throat tightens. "How can you be sure of this?"

"Because I watched her face when she came back with you from Vegas." Artyom's expression softens. "I saw how her hand never left yours even though you can hardly stay on your feet. She didn't look at you like you were her shield. She looked at you like you were her entire fucking world."

Artyom sighs, running a hand across his face.

"Youcanbe controlling, Ruslan. I've seen it firsthand."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"What I mean is—" Artyom leans against the desk, his expression softening. "You try to exercise control because you've lived under someone else's thumb for so long. First your father, then the bratva obligations Lev pushed on you. Control is what you naturally gravitate toward when you don't know what to do."

I turn away, unable to deny the truth in his words. Living under Vitaly's iron fist shaped me more than I care to admit.

"But with Aurora..." Artyom continues, his voice gentler than I've heard in years. "With her, I've seen something entirely different from you."

"Different how?"

He meets my eyes directly. "Even someone as jaded as me can see that you care for her. Deeply." A pause. "One might even say you love her."

The word freezes in the air between us.

Love.

I'd been avoiding that word even in my own thoughts.

"You want to do everything in your power to keep her safe," Artyom says. "Yes, maybe you were controlling because that's the only way you knew to exercise authority. But Ruslan…"

He steps closer.

"You're not Vitaly," he states firmly. "When Aurora pushed back, you listened. You respected her boundaries. That's something your father never did for anyone. Nor are you Lev, who dragged you back into this bratva that you hated."

His words settle into me like a balm over an open wound. Not erasing the pain, but making it bearable.

"What if I can't stop myself next time?" The question escapes before I can trap it behind my teeth. "What if I go too far with control when something threatens her again?"

Artyom's expression doesn't change, but his eyes sharpen.

"What if the documentary makes Kristofer more obsessed? More dangerous?" My voice rises with each question as fears I've been holding back tumble out. "What if it only proves to Semyon that Kristofer is valuable precisely because he gets under my skin? What if?—"

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