Page 57 of Blood Oath Christmas
"Like a criminal?" Konstantin's smile is wry. "That's because he wasn't, not in his heart. He did what he had to do to protect the people he loved, but he hated the violence, the bloodshed.”
Suddenly, memories start clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle I never knew I was solving. The way my father would sometimes get phone calls that made him tense and quiet. How he'd insist on walking me to school certain days, his eyes constantly scanning the street. The time I found him cleaning a gun in the garage and he'd quickly hidden it, telling me it was just for protection.
"The job at Otrava," I say slowly. "That wasn't just because the owner was his friend, was it?"
"Viktor and I have been watching over you for years, making sure you were safe. The job was a way to keep you close, to monitor any threats."
Viktor. The man who always leaves me gifts in the form of wood carvings.
"My whole life has been a lie," I breathe, the weight of it crushing down on me.
"No," Konstantin says firmly, taking my hands in his. "Your father's love for you was real. Everything he did, every choice hemade, was to give you the life he never had. A normal life, away from all this."
But I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. My father—my gentle, loving father—was part of the Russian Mafia. And my mother has been lying to me for eleven years.
The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound. All those times she'd get that distant look when I mentioned him, all the times she'd change the subject when I asked about his past. She knew.
I stand abruptly, pacing to the window. The Christmas lights blur through my tears as the full magnitude hits me. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about my life, has been built on lies.
"I have to talk to her," I say suddenly, turning back to Konstantin. "I have to confront my mother."
30
KONSTANTIN
Igrip the steering wheel tighter as Ivy crosses her arms and gives me that stubborn look I've come to know all too well. Less than a week married, and she's already perfected the art of making me want to both protect her and throttle her at the same time.
"Konstantin, I need to see my mother alone," she says for the third time in the past ten minutes. "You're… intimidating. She won't open up with you hovering around."
"I don't hover," I reply, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're a lie. I've been hovering over her like a hawk since we said our vows. Every instinct I have screams at me to keep her within arm's reach at all times.
"You absolutely hover." She turns in her seat to face me fully, those blue eyes flashing with determination. "Look, I know you're trying to protect me, and I appreciate it. I really do. But my mom and I don’t have a great relationship and it’s going to be hard enough trying to talk to her. If you show up looking like…" She gestures vaguely at me.
"Like what?"
"Like you could snap someone's neck with your bare hands."
I raise an eyebrow. "I can snap someone's neck with my bare hands."
"Exactly my point." She sighs, and some of the fight goes out of her voice. "Please, Konstantin. I need to talk to her about my father. About what she knew and why she didn’t tell me about him. And if there’s any other secrets still to be found.”
The mention of her father sends a familiar twist of guilt through my chest. If only I could tell her that the blood oath I swore to protect her isn't the only reason I'm keeping her safe now. But I’m not ready to lay my heart bare for her. Not yet.
"Fine," I say, and her face lights up with surprise. "But I’m staying right here until you’re done."
Her smile falters slightly. "Konstantin?—"
"That's the deal, Ivy. Take it or leave it."
She studies my face for a long moment, probably looking for any sign that I might be willing to negotiate further. She won't find one. When it comes to her safety, I don't compromise.
"Fine," she says, echoing my tone.
Twenty minutes later, we're pulling into the driveway of Trisha's modest two-story house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Viktor cuts the engine of the black SUV and turns to look at me in the rearview mirror.
"You sure about this, Boss?" he asks, his dark eyes serious. "Lot of windows in this neighborhood. Lot of places for someone to hide."
I've been thinking the same thing since we turned onto the street. The houses are too close together, too many blind spots, too many potential escape routes for anyone who might want to cause trouble. But Ivy needs this conversation with her mother, and I can see the determination in the set of her shoulders.
