Page 114 of Sinner's Vows

I look out of the window, trying to get a grip on the growing ball of churning bile in my stomach, and when the driver pulls off again, I take my time. There are ten sets of messages, in code, I need to work through. I disregard the first seven after nothing in them gives me any hints as to being related to Pietro Garlini.

A flicker of hope lights in me. Maybe Dominic’s theory is wrong. My team wasn’t ambushed during a mission we were never set to complete; it was something else that led to our demise.

And then my gaze snags on one little line.

EK in position. LR detained. MD done. AR done.

Pins and needles prickle over my skin. Those are our initials. Lorenzo Ricci, Manolo Diconti, and Alesso Romano. And I…I was known as Emilia Korhonen between Franco and…and it must be Pietro Garlini. I swipe up to the page where the number and a name is included. It’s not Pietro’s DIA phone number, and nothing else gives it away. But it must be Pietro Garlini because the only way anybody could know my birth name is if they had access to my Top Secret file. Emilia Korhonen was ‘killed’ twelve years ago, but only someone with access to my records would know I’m alive and have turned into Ariana Morelli.

Oh my God. I check again. The message is dated on the last day I was in contact with Lorenzo Ricci, the team member whowas supposed to look after me and protect me. Detained. I’m in position.MD done, AR done.Code for killed.

“Ariana?”

Dominic tries to take the phone from me as I’m trembling so much, everything is a blur, but I cling to it as tears fall like stones to my lap. I drag in breath after breath, forcing myself to try to calm down.

“Oh my God, he sold them out. He sold us all out.”

I wipe at my eyes, focusing on the rest of the message chain, which details their plan like a to-do list in which they tick off every step.

LR done.

Oh my god. Dead.

EK detained.

Is she done?

No. Detained.

Do her already.

No. Now that I have her, she might be useful.

Not what we agreed upon. Do her.

Soon. Need time.

There are several more call outs from Pietro Garlini to kill me, but Franco had lost interest as he doesn’t respond.

And then comes a line from Pietro Carlini that chills me to the bone:

Why the fuck did you leave Italy with her and where the fuck are you going? Not our agenda.

Franco’s response is simply,She’ll be back.

And then the last line from Pietro:I want to see her body.

Franco never responded because we were going to the US by then, and he had me in that dungeon with his own plans, which didn’t include Pietro Garlini’s plans to end me immediately.

“I can’t believe it,” I sob. “He sold us out. He butchered my team…he?—”

Dominic takes the phone from me, and I let go, already in his arms.

He holds me close, trying to calm me with gentle strokes on my back, his lips pressed to my forehead as he murmurs. “It’s going to be okay, Ariana. Eventually, it’s all going to be okay.”

I’m crying ugly tears, sobs tearing from my chest like I never allow them to, but there’s no hiding this grief. My whole life, my whole idea of self has been wiped out by the man I trusted the most, trusted with my life—trusted with my team. And they all died except me.

“What if they died because of me?” I cry into his shoulder.

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