Page 38 of Vendetta Crown

"I'm ready." I swallow hard. "I'm just nervous."

"Aurora..." Hannah studies my face. "You're white as a sheet. When's the last time you ate something?"

"This morning. I had toast."

"Two bites of toast before pushing it away doesn't count."

I move to the bed and sit down, trying to control my breathing. "I just keep thinking about how many people will see these photos. How many people will see what he did to me."

"That's the point though, right? To show everyone what kind of monster he is?"

"I know. I know." I run my fingers through my hair, wincing when they catch on a tangle. "But the thought of strangers analyzing my body, seeing where his hands were, where his teeth were." My voice breaks. "It feels like he's violating me all over again."

Hannah sits beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Would it help if I stayed with you during the shoot?"

"Would you?"

"Of course. Whatever you need." She squeezes gently. "And Ruslan will be there too. You're not facing this alone."

The mention of Ruslan brings a flutter of warmth to my chest, momentarily breaking through the anxiety.

The way he looked at me these past two weeks, like I'm the strongest person he's ever met, not the broken mess I feel like.

It's been the lifeline I needed.

"I haven't told him how much this is scaring me," I confess.

"Why not?"

I shrug helplessly. "Because he's already worried enough. Because I don't want him to think I'm backing out. Because..."

"Because you're stubborn as hell and think you need to be brave all the time?"

A small laugh escapes me. "Something like that."

I take a shallow breath as Hannah leads me out of the bedroom. The polished marble floor seems to tilt beneath my feet, and I grip her arm tighter.

"Whoa, easy there," she whispers, slowing her pace. "We can take a minute."

Another wave of nausea overtakes me, stronger this time. I swallow hard, tasting bile at the back of my throat.

"No, I'm okay. Let's go."

We continue down the hallway, the sound of equipment being moved around growing louder with each step. My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to break free. I focus on Hannah's steady presence beside me, on the feel of her arm under my fingers, on something real and solid to anchor me.

The door to the makeshift studio stands open. Inside, two assistants adjust lights while another tests the camera settings. A plain white backdrop hangs against one wall.

It's all so clinical. So exposed.

Ruslan looks up the moment we enter, his conversation with one of the crew instantly forgotten. He crosses the room in long strides, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Zarechka," he murmurs, taking my free hand. His thumb traces gentle circles on my skin. "How are you feeling?"

"A little nervous, but otherwise fine."

He studies my face, seeing right through me. "You don't have to do this today."

"That's what I told her," Hannah chimes in.

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