Page 113 of Devil's Vows

“Too late,” I choke out. “He’s dead. That fucking priest was in on the whole thing and made sure I had a private ‘meeting’ outside of the convent.” And gave me the last, shattering glance into the rot underneath the gilded glory of the Catholic Church, breaking my faith into a million pieces.

“How did he die? Do you know?”

I shrug. “He died two weeks later in a mysterious single-vehicle accident, plummeting down a cliff on one of the winding mountain roads in that area.” I drag in a shaky breath, rattled at reliving this now. “Does it meet your standards?” I stab back, hating that Ivan is making me talk, giving me the deep cleanse I probably needed ages ago.

“Not quite,” he says drily, anger biting in his tone. “Who else? Who did the piercing?”

“A woman. I never saw her again. I bet she’s dead, too. And then…and thenhewas there, the man I got promised to. A Russian. With tattoos on his fingers exactly like your father has.” I shoot Yuri a glance where he’s stiffened in his seat. “Like the ones you used to have.”

Ivan and Yuri exchange glances, and unspoken words travel between them,not for my ears.

“Did you get a name?” Yuri asks.

“No! Everything went over my head. I was petrified. All I recall is how he spoke on a call for the duration of what they did to me, his face in the shadows.”

“Where were you,moya ptichka?” Ivan asks, softer.

“In the crypt. It was dimly lit, until she blinded me with her light.” God knows, the horrors that swept through my mind at that moment still haunt me.

“Can you recall anything else about this man? Besides the tattoos?”

“He was old? That’s the only thing I registered. Too old for a thirteen-year-old girl. I’d guess he’d be in his seventies right now.”

Both men sigh in unison because it’s useless information, but the tattoos must be worth something?

“At that age, anybody older than twenty seems ancient,” Yuri says drily, and Ivan just shakes his head.

“I’d probably recognize his voice more than anything. I hear it in my nightmares…this is why I took up Russian, studying like my life depended on it. I knew he was going to come for me, and when he did, it would be my biggest asset. Him not knowing I understood what he said. I didn’t foresee being here in your house like this.”

Ivan stands from where he’s been crouching by my chair, stretching to his full length to look down at me.

“Yes, yet here we are.” He walks around the desk to sit in his chair and face us. “What do your brothers know about this?”

I gasp. “Nothing! Do you really think I would tell my brothersthisof all things?”

“You never know. They might have been in on it.”

I’m stunned at this suggestion. I don’t know my brothers as well as I should, but Dominic…Matteo…they wouldneverallow this. “No. They didn’t know about my existence until Randazzo died. I’ve spent every day running from this Russian ever since I told Mother Lucia?—”

“So she knew?”

“Not about the piercing, and only later.” I want to roll my eyes, feeling like I need to mansplain everything. “I had to tell her about the secret meeting that fucking priest arranged, because I stopped talking after that, just like I did when I was seven. Then the priest died, and she knew something terrible had happened. She eventually got me to talk, but I never told her all the details, just about Randazzo, the promise, and my Bible.” I swallow, really wanting a drink now, eyeing the vodka Yuri placed on the desk. “And then, we started to run and hide.”

A beat of silence fills the room, Ivan studying me intensely. “Is that what you are doing here? Running and hiding?”

There’s no point in twisting the truth now. “Yes. I never planned to stay.”

“I see.” Anger flashes in his gaze. “Marriage is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

Marriage was never my plan. I got married to secure Milana’s exit, but I can’t tell him that. “This marriage was your and my brothers’ plan, and you know it. I had zero hand in it.”

“And yet you would become a mother to my girls and leave?”

There’s something raw in his tone, but it’s cold, too, as if he wants to ice over his emotions. But I got to know him a little, aswell. Somehow, during every close moment and soft conversation, the respect and restraint he has shown me up to the wedding, Ivan has revealed himself to me, too. He wants a good, solid marriage, for his girls’ sake. This transgression of mine is personal, this broken trust borderline unforgivable, and it cuts him deep.

“Only to protect them, Ivan,” I say, defeated. “He is still coming for me.”

“How do you know?” Yuri asks.