Page 155 of Vendetta Vows

"Who brought this?" I whisper, unable to take the package from her hands.

"One of the security guards found it at the gate. No messenger, no delivery person." Daria hesitates. "Do you want me to call Ruslan?"

I glance toward the tea party, where Ruslan is still making Sofia and Stella laugh. Mikayla watches us now, her intuition picking up on the tension.

"No," I decide. "Let him have this moment with them."

With trembling fingers, I take the box. It's plain brown cardboard, wrapped in twine, with "Jamie Fields" scrawled across the top in familiar handwriting.

Handwriting I hoped I'd never see again.

I untie the twine and lift the lid, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Inside sits a tiny ornate music box. The polished walnut surface gleams beneath the sun. I recognize it instantly. It's an exact replica of one my mother kept on her dresser.

I turn it over and see a message with the same handwriting: TO MY BEAUTIFUL JAMIE.

"What is that?" Mikayla appears at my side, peering into the box.

"A message," I manage, my throat constricting. I reach for it but stop when I see what lies beneath.

A pair of silver handcuffs. Hanging from the chain between them are tiny charm letters spelling out "RUSLAN."

My vision tunnels, and for a moment I think I might faint. Kristofer knows. He knows about Ruslan. He's been watching us.

"There's more," Mikayla says, reaching in.

"Don't!" I start, but she's already pulled out the envelope at the bottom.

Photographs spill into my lap. My hands shake so badly I can barely hold them. The first shows Stella skipping down the garden path, her face bright with laughter. The second captures Sofia asleep in the library, curled up with a book. The third is Mikayla standing at her bedroom window, gazing out.

Each bears a date written on the back. Yesterday. The day before. Last week.

Mikayla's face drains of color as she sees herself in the photos.

"These are from the security cameras." She points to the security camera mounted on the corner of the mansion, then to the angle of the photo. "Someone must've tampered with them. Or hacked them from the inside."

I stare at the photographs scattered across my lap, my throat constricting until I can barely breathe. The music box, the handcuffs with Ruslan's name.

All of it screams Kristofer.

He's not just watching from a distance anymore.

He's already here.

The thought that he's been watching us through our own security cameras is sickening.

What else has he seen? Has he been watching us in my most intimate moments with Ruslan? Has he seen us making love, whispering secrets, sharing our darkest fears?

My skin crawls with invisible insects. I feel violated down to my bones, as if Kristofer has somehow reached through time and space to place his hands on me again.

"Mikayla," I manage, shoving the photos back into the box. "I need you to go play with your sisters. Keep them occupied."

She studies my face. "Are you alright?"

"No." The honesty slips out before I can stop it. "But I need you to keep your sisters distracted while I talk to Ruslan."

Mikayla nods, her posture straightening as she accepts her mission. She walks over to the tea party, bends down to whisper something in Ruslan's ear, then smoothly takes his place.

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