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The story behind his scars was a mystery to the general public. Jordan refused to talk about it, and no one dared ask Vuk directly. Rumors ranged from the realistic (it was an accident that got out of hand) to the fantastical (Vuk was a former CIA member who’d been captured and tortured by enemy forces).

I suspected the truth fell somewhere in between.

Gray light slanted through the windows and painted his face with shadows. He didn’t respond for a long moment. When he did, he spoke haltingly, his voice rough. “I had an…encounter with some old acquaintances after graduation. It left me with these.” He gestured at his face and neck and paused again.

I waited patiently.

“I was celebrating with my brother the night after my graduation ceremony,” he finally continued. “Lazar hadn’t gone to college. He’d never been interested in school, but he was damn proud of my achievement. We were at home, drinking, when they broke into the house. I had something they wanted. I refused to tell them where it was—if I did, they would’ve killed us anyway. So they tied my brother up and tortured him.”

Horror smothered me, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

Vuk recounted the events with clinical detachment, but an ember of deep-seated rage glittered in his eyes.

“I fought them off the best I could, but they had the element of surprise. They set fire to the house to cover their tracks. By the time I overpowered them, it was too late. The fire spread fast, and just like that, it was over. My house, gone. All my personal belongings, gone. My brother…” His throat flexed. “Gone.”

His expression remained stoic, but I heard the anguish in his words.

My chest cleaved in half. “Vuk,” I breathed, too stunned to formulate a proper response.

I’d assumed his brother had died of disease or an accident. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed the truth. The sheer brutality of it was unthinkable.

“The only reason I survived was because I left him.” Vuk’s tone was bleak. “I tried to save him, but he got trapped by a fallen beam. I couldn’t free him. He said it was too late for him, but I still had a chance of surviving. He told me he’d never forgive me if I stayed. So I left him to burn.”

It was obvious he was still beating himself up over that decision. I didn’t blame him. Guilt had a way of outpacing everything else, even logic.Especiallylogic.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “If you hadn’t left, both of you would’ve been trapped.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say “died.” The thought of never meeting Vuk—of him not evenexistinganymore—made my lungs squeeze.

He swallowed again. “Perhaps.”

“What happened to your…acquaintances?” I asked. He said he’d overpowered them. What did that mean?

Vuk’s expression didn’t flicker. “Justice found them.”

It was a callback to our earlier conversation at Valhalla.

Wentworth vanished. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

No. But I imagine justice found him.

Goosebumps coated my arms and shoulders. He wasn’t talking about the police.

I didn’t ask him what his idea of justice was; I didn’t want to know.

I placed my hand on his without thinking. He glanced down, his shoulders tightening, before he let out a small breath and gradually relaxed again.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said softly. “I know it’s not easy.”

It sounded like a platitude, but I meant every word. Our relationship had undergone several shifts over the months, but this was the biggest one so far.

He’d opened up willingly of his own accord, and if that wasn’t a sign of trust, I didn’t know what was.

It meant more to me than any gift could.

I’ve never told anyone the details of what happened before. Not Jordan. Not my staff.Vuk switched back to signing before he added in a low voice, “Just you.”

Warmth unspooled in my chest. “Why me?”