Page 65 of Vendetta Vows

"Who else but you?" I meet his gaze directly. "You've stuck by my side for nineteen years. I've trusted you with everything. Why not trust you with this."

"I never wanted this. I never thought?—"

"Neither did I." I offer a mirthless smile. "But here we are. I need you by my side for what I'm about to do."

Artyom stares into his glass, contemplating my offer.

"If I'm going to pull this off," I tell him. "Marrying Aurora, keeping my nieces safe, and proving that Semyon was behind killing Lev and Mikhail, then I need someone I can trust completely."

"The other brigadiers won't be happy."

"Let them. The bratva isn't a democracy."

Artyom meets my eyes. "I didn't think it'd come to me like this."

"Circumstances rarely align with our desires." I soften my voice. "What do you say, Artyom Yefimovich?"

He straightens his shoulders, decision made. "I accept, my pakhan."

Relief washes through me, one small victory in recent days filled with losses. "Good. Tell me about the dead man. He looked bratva."

Artyom sets his glass down. "He was."

"And?"

"He had Mikonov bratva tattoos on his chest." Artyom's eyes meet mine. "Eight-pointed star with the family crest in the center."

My jaw tightens. "So Lev and Mikhail's murders."

"Semyon must've had a hand in them both."

I lean back in my chair, thinking about Aurora's sharp assessment about how terribly convenient all of this is for Semyon. She'd seen through the situation so quickly, piecing together in minutes through what little she overheard on the vents.

I stand, feeling restless energy building inside me. "I need you to draw up a list. Every brigadier and boevik who can be trusted."

"And what exactly constitutes 'can't trust'?"

"Anyone with ties to Tamara. Anyone that came to the bratva with her after she married Lev. Anyone who might resist my authority. Anyone who might leak information to Semyon. I need to know who's with us before I make my moves."

Artyom nods, every inch the loyal man I need him to be. "Consider it done."

"Thank you,bratishka." I clasp his shoulder. "Now go. We don't have much time."

Alone now, I walk to the window and stare out into the night. The moon casts a silvery glow over the grounds, highlighting the armed men patrolling below.

But inevitably, my eyes drift to the tower where Aurora is staying, and I realize I'm hoping to see her appear in the window.

Artyom's words echo in my mind. "You asked me to look into her a few minutes after Sienna Voss caused a scene at Nikoforov. You've been staring at her like a lovesick puppy every night for the past week. You can say all you want that you don't do love, but you came running afterherbefore you came running after the bratva. That has to mean something."

Maybe he's right. Maybe this isn't just about succession or protection. Maybe my feelings for Aurora run deeper than I'm willing to admit.

Myzarechka—my little dawn—my princess in the tower.

But even as I stand here, wanting her, I remember her words from that night in the alleyway when she was busy chasing down the fluttering pages of the script.

"She'd have to be the one to confront her past, and he has to be the one who empowers her to do so."

I smile to myself. There's a strength in Aurora that fascinates me endlessly—a resilience born from the past she's running from. I've seen it on her face.

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