Page 102 of Vendetta Vows

I swallow hard. "But?—"

"And you're just an obstacle to her." Mikayla's eyes bore into mine, suddenly clear despite her tears. "A temporary inconvenience to be removed."

The bluntness of her words steals my breath.

"You may want to save my mother," she continues, her voice steadying, "but she will not hesitate to destroy you."

She wipes fiercely at her red-rimmed eyes.

"You have no idea how cruel our world can be," she says. "Or how impossible it will be for you to leave it."

My stomach twists. I've spent my entire adult life running from one monster. Now I'm marrying into a family with another waiting in the wings.

"My mother has found every secret she sets her mind to. Every weakness. Every vulnerability." Mikayla's voice drops to a whisper. "That's her gift. What makes you think she won't do the same to you?"

A chill runs through me at the raw certainty in her voice.

"She'll find out who you really are," Mikayla says. "Whatever you're hiding, she'll find it and use it against you."

The room feels suddenly airless.

Jamie Fields is dead.

But what if Tamara is the one who will bring her back to life?

"You're a good person, Aurora." She says it like a diagnosis, not a compliment. "I can see that."

I shift uncomfortably under her gaze, trying desperately to push my racing thoughts away.

"But you cannot be a good person and expect to survive here." Her voice hardens with each word. "You must become a monster willing to do monstrous things."

The certainty in her voice chills me. How can a fifteen-year-old speak with such conviction about becoming a monster?

"Your kindness is a weakness," she continues, eyes never leaving mine. "And that weakness will get you killed."

I want to argue with her, to tell her she's wrong, that there's always another way. But the words die in my throat. What do I know about survival in this world? I've spent seven years running from my monster, not standing up to one.

"It seems like Uncle Ruslan cares for you," Mikayla says, her voice dropping lower. "What do you think he'll do if you become the second person he cares about to die because of my mother?"

I stare at Mikayla, her words echoing in my head like a death knell.

The second person he cares about to die because of her.

Tamara didn't just have a hand in Ruslan's childhood sweetheart's death.

She was responsible for it.

But as much as I want to ask Mikayla for answers, I know that these aren't secrets for a fifteen-year-old to reveal, no matter how wise beyond her years she might be.

I look at this girl, this child who grew up in a house where marriage meant pain. Where love was a fairy tale told to children who would later be bartered away.

Where monsters come in the form of fathers and uncles, and not the boogeyman under the bed.

Or bloody messages written on the walls.

And I'm about to marry into this world.

For protection. For safety.

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