Page 53 of Vengeful Embers

“You helped them take that from me,” she spits back. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

I snap my gaze to the road. “You're lucky I stepped in. They wanted you locked away. You know what RMSAD does to its prisoners.”

“I’d rather be one of their lab rats than rot in the cage my brother built.”

“I gave you a chance, Nadia,” I grind out. “You pissed it away. So now you go under village watch.”

Her head jerks toward me. “You realize it’s the fucking 21st century, right? Village watch? Are you serious?”

“It worked before,” I say. “It’ll work again.”

“That was to keep virgins safe until their families married them off like breeding cattle.”

“Exactly.” I glance over and see her face pale.

“You are not seriously?—”

“You’re almost twenty-nine, Nadia,” I say, voice low, deliberate. “You haven’t married. I don’t think you’ve ever even taken a lover.”

She gapes at me. “What the fuck do you know about my love life?”

“Not much,” I lie. “But I don’t need to. You buried yourself in work. Now that you’ve burned that bridge, maybe it’s time to consider a different future.”

She lets out a disbelieving sound. “So what, you’re marrying me off like it’s the Dark Ages?”

“Oh, your days are going to get dark, little sister.” I shift in my seat. “Agafan and the watchers have their orders.”

“You bastard,” she hisses. “You’re not the same Ruslan I grew up with. The man I loved... he wanted to rebuild our territory without bloodshed. He had vision. Plans. Now? You’re just another tyrant dressing up revenge as justice.”

“I still have those plans,” I say flatly. “But honoring our ancestors means keeping the traditions that made us who we are.”

“And those traditions are why the world is divided,” she fires back. “Why hate and ignorance keep winning.”

I ignore it. We roll into the village, the tight-knit buildings silhouetted against the evening sun. A few kids play soccer near the fountain. The old clock tower still stands, worn and proud.

“I’m not a child anymore, Ruslan,” Nadia says as we stop in front of the town hall. “You can’t do this.”

“Then stop acting like one,” I say, as Pavel kills the engine. “You should’ve known better.”

“I was trying to help a friend.” Nadia tries to plead her case.

“By ending up in a cell? Yeah, that’s real helpful.”

“At least I still have friends to try and save,” she mutters, climbing out of the car.

The words hit like a punch. I sit still a second longer than I should, her voice ringing in my ears. Then I force the sting away and climb out just as Agafan walks out of the hall.

“Cousin,” he greets me with a nod. “It’s good to have you home.”

He turns to Nadia. “Hello, Nadia. We’ve got your room ready. You’ll be staying with Watcher Anna.”

“Awesome,” Nadia mutters, her tone thick with venom. She doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t even glance at me as she turns and heads down the path.

“She’ll come around,” Agafan says, watching her go.

“I don’t care if she does,” I lie again.

Agafan is shorter than me by nearly five inches, but his presence is solid. He’s more than my cousin—he’s my shield when I can’t be everywhere. He grew up in this village after Boris Mirochin murdered his parents in front of Agafan, who was ten at the time, and the entire town. Another lesson from the Mirochins in loyalty written in blood. Another reason to finish what I started.

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