Page 60 of Ruins
Cassandra huffs, rolling her eyes. “He never gives away his mother’s things.Ever.He treasures them—they’re his last mementos of her.”
The weight of her words crashes into me. My knees buckle, and I sink onto the velvet bench, a lump rising in my throat.
“She passed away?” My voice is barely audible.
Cassandra nods solemnly.
My hand presses over my heart, feeling it break for Santo. My mother and I aren’t particularly close, but losing her… it would wound me. I can’t imagine what it’s done to him.
“So,” Cassandra sits beside me, giving me a pointed look, “if he gave you those things, he sees something in you. Otherwise, he would never part with them.”
I swallow hard. “But… he’s been distant lately.” The words feel fragile as they leave me.
She chuckles, shrugging. “He’s second-in-command now. He has businesses to run, both legal and otherwise.” She smirks. “It comes with the territory.”
I take a sigh of relief. Cassandra gives my hand a comforting squeeze before standing up from the bench, but says nothing as she clips in my veil behind me in silence. Her face is expressionless in the mirror’s reflection as she folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head assessing me.
“You’ll learn to navigate his world,” she says finally. “It may seem daunting now, but it’s always been part ofyourworld. You’re just in the thick of it now.”
I nod, feeling lighter. Squaring my shoulders, I inhale deeply, pushing aside the uncertainty. Whatever comes next, I will face it.
For my family. For the Bratva.
***
After a long, warm shower I prepare for bed, and pack away the last of my things. The designer outfits Cassandra picked out for me are neatly folded in my suitcase, though she assured me the rest have already been sent to Santo’s estate. My mother packed a few boxes with my books, jewelry, and toiletries, making the transition feel real in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for
Tomorrow is my wedding day.
The thought settles over me like a heavy weight, curling in my stomach as I check my phone. Still nothing. No calls, no messages. The silence from Santo is suffocating, stretching on like an endless void.
I exhale sharply, staring at the neatly folded clothes, the carefully packed books. Everything is in order, just as it should be.
And yet, as I reach for the zipper, my hands hesitate. Just for a second.
Then, before I can think twice, I seal my fate shut.
Placing the suitcase on the ground a sharp knock sounds at my door.
“Need some help, Vasi?”
I turn to see Pietro peeking in, his lopsided grin familiar, comforting.
“No, thank you, Pietro,” I manage a small smile, shaking my head.
He steps inside anyway, his gaze sweeping over the packed boxes and neatly folded clothes before settling on me. “Excited for tomorrow?”
I hesitate. “I’m nervous.” My voice is quiet as I stare at my suitcase, as if it holds the answers I need.
“That’s natural,” he assures me, leaning lazily against the doorframe, his ever-present amusement shining in his eyes. Pietro has always had a way of making everything seem lighter, as if life itself was something to be laughed at. I’ve always envied that about him.
“You’re about to step into a new phase of life.”
“I know.” I bite my lower lip. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”
Pietro nods, pushing off the doorframe and wandering toward a box filled with books. He picks one up, flipping it open, his fingers skimming over the pages like he can read something I can’t.
“Change can be scary,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. Then he lifts his gaze, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
