Page 43 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

“We went to an underground fighting ring run by the Armenians. Looking for intel. They usually worked with the Turks, so we figured… maybe there’d be something.”

His voice is low. Distant. Like he’s narrating someone else’s life.

“And that’s when we found them.”

My throat tightens. “Found who?”

He finally glances over his shoulder.

His eyes are dark. Not just stormy. Drenched.

“Trafficked girls,” he says. “Locked in cages like animals. All different ages. Some too young to understand what was happening to them. Some too old to pretend they didn’t.”

I cover my mouth. A chill spreads down my spine.

“We should’ve told our fathers. Gone to the table. Planned it properly.”

“But you didn’t,” I whisper.

He shakes his head once.

“No. We were young. Stupid. Angry. Thought we were invincible. So we did it ourselves.”

He ladles sauce into a pan, movements precise, controlled. But his voice is unraveling.

He keeps talking, steady—like he hasn’t just shifted my entire world.

“We made a plan,” he says, stirring the sauce. “Stakeouts. Tracking shipments. We figured out where they were storing the girls.”

A pause.

“And one night… we struck.”

My pulse spikes.

I want to say something.

But I don’t.

Because his voice shifts. Just barely.

“We got the girls out,” he continues. “All of them. Safe. Alive. We locked the doors and burned the place down.”

For a second, it sounds noble.

Heroic .

I exhale shakily. “You—burned it?”

Angelo nods sharply. “With Vartan and Arsen Sarkisian inside.”

I gasp. My blood ices over.

“What?” The word escapes before I can stop it.

He looks at me, eyes dark. “They were there. I saw them.”

My breath catches hard in my throat. “Vartan and Arsen Sarkisian?” I whisper. “ That Vartan? Everyone thought—there were rumors, no one ever—oh my God.”

He nods again. No denial. No spin.

“You’re the one who—” I press my palm flat to my chest, trying to calm the pounding. “You killed Vartan?”

His jaw clenches. “Arsen survived. I left him there to die, but he didn’t. He saw me. Knew it was me.”

My stomach drops.

“The next day my mother goes missing.”

My voice is too fast. Too high. “Wait, wait.”

He stills, the sauce bubbling quietly.

I slide off the counter, feet unsteady on the tile.

“If he knew it was you… if he ordered your mother’s death… Angelo—”

My throat dries.

“They didn’t stop, did they?”

He turns, just his head, and I see it, the guilt, the grief, the fear he never lets anyone else see.

I press my hand flat to my stomach like I can hold the dread there, keep it from spilling out.

“This war you’re in—it’s still because of that? You married me, and you think I’m safe from people who put hits on families?”

My voice cracks, the room spinning around me.

“If they find out who I am, who I’m married to—I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“No,” he says instantly, but his eyes flick.

It’s instinct, not certainty .

“Don’t lie to me,” I whisper.

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

I step closer, fists curling tight at my sides.

“Am I a target now?”

His jaw clenches.

“Am I?” I push, louder now. “Because I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to walk blind into your war—a war you’ve been fighting since before you even met me and never once thought to tell me.”

He finally faces me fully.

“Did Luciano know?” I ask, dreading the answer.

He shakes his head.

“No one but Maksim and I know what we did.”

I take in a shuddering breath, disappointment flooding through me with the fear.

“Angelo….”

“I won’t let what happened to Vasilisa happen to you.”

His voice is steel. Conviction. His eyes burn into mine.

I let out a laugh, sharp and broken, with no humor in it.

“Yeah, well… they wouldn’t really get much by trafficking me. I’m not that young. Killing me would hurt you more, I’m sure.”

“No.”

He shakes his head again, harder this time.

“They came for her recently. Just six months ago.”

I go still.

Silence crashes down. Cold and thick.

My heart stutters.

No. No.

“That’s why I delayed bringing you here,” he says softly.

Santo’s wife was targeted recently.

I’m in danger now.

Something inside me snaps .

“Oh, you have me all the way fucked up!” I shout, and his jaw clenches.

“This is what you meant when you said to hear you out before I walk away?”

I throw my hands in the air, pacing now, trying to burn through the fury crashing through every nerve ending.

“She was almost taken? What—your guards saved her? Is that why she’s under constant surveillance now? You mock your brother for that shit, but it makes sense!”

My voice breaks on the last word.

I spin toward him, ready to keep tearing into him, but—

He looks broken.

Not angry. Not defensive.

Broken.

“No,” he says evenly, his eyes meeting mine. “She didn’t get saved by guards because she only had one with her.”

My mind begins to race, thoughts of the horrors she must have gone through, but he continues.

“She fought for her own life.”

A shiver courses through my body. “That’s what you want for me?”

He flinches like I slapped him.

Good.

Because that’s how it feels, like I’ve been slapped awake.

“Is that what you want for me?” I demand again, stepping forward, heat rising up my throat. “To fight for my own life while you’re off playing Don with secrets and sins and vendettas you didn’t think I deserved to know about?”

“Scarlet—”

“No!” I cut him off, voice trembling. “Don’t speak to me. Not when you buried me under a thousand layers of silence and let me walk into this blind.”

His lips press into a hard line, but I’m not done .

“Vasilisa is your family , Angelo, and you left her exposed. Do you even understand what that does to me? Knowing that she was almost taken, wasn’t even protected —and I’m just supposed to what? Trust that you’ll do better by me?”

He says nothing. The silence presses in, tight and unbearable.

“I didn’t come here to die,” I whisper. “And I didn’t come here to be a symbol. A prize. A weakness they can exploit. I came here because I was forced, and I stayed because, damn it , some foolish part of me still hoped…”

I trail off, breath catching in my throat. “Still hoped that maybe you loved me enough not to hurt me again.”

His eyes shut like he’s in pain.

I don’t know if it’s from guilt, or grief, or just the weight of his own choices finally choking him.

But I don’t look away.

I’m not going down like this.