Page 87 of Vendetta Vows

"Mikayla, that's not what it looks like."

Her eyes harden as she turns to Aurora. "Do you have any idea what happens to the women who marry into this family?"

"That's enough, Mikayla!" I snap, feeling heat rise up my neck. "Apologize. Now."

"Apologize?" Mikayla backs away, her face twisting as she storms for the stairs. "You're the one who should apologize! For betraying Father's memory! For keeping us in the dark!"

"Mikayla Lvovna, apologize."

"You're not my father." She shouts as she lengthens her stride. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Eto moi prikaz!" The words slip out before I can stop myself.

And she obeys. Of course she obeys. All of us born and raised in this awful world are trained to obey those three words.

A pakhan's words, cold and commanding.

Mikayla freezes mid-step, her back rigid. When she turns, her eyes are brimming with tears, her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tight with the effort of holding herself together.

My heart shatters. What am I doing? I'm becoming the very thing I swore to protect her from.

"It's okay," Aurora steps forward and stands between me and Mikayla. "You don't have to apologize, Mikayla. This is a lot to process. You can go if you want."

Mikayla stares at Aurora for a long moment, then gives her the briefest, stiffest bow. A mockery of respect that somehow hurts more than her outburst.

"I'm sorry," she says icily before turning and storming up the stairs.

The silence that follows feels suffocating. Sofia and Stella stand together by the fountain, and Sofia's small hand protectively gripping her sister's.

"Uncle Ruslan?" Sofia's voice is painfully formal, nothing like her usual exuberance. "May Stella and I please be excused?"

"Of course." My throat tightens. "Daria Zakharovna, would you mind...?"

"Come, girls," Daria says softly, ushering them toward the kitchen. "Let's find those cookies I promised."

Shame burns through me like acid, spreading from my throat to my chest. I'd done exactly what I swore I never would.

Aurora stands perfectly still, arms crossed, staring at me with an intensity that makes me feel two feet tall despite my height. The slam of Mikayla's door upstairs echoes through the mansion to confirm that we're alone.

"You shouldn't have done that." Aurora's voice is deadly quiet as she walks toward me. Each step measured, deliberate.

I've faced men with guns pointed at my head and felt less threatened than I do right now by this five-foot-six woman with hazel eyes boring into me.

"She's grieving, Ruslan. She's scared." Aurora's voice cracks slightly, and it cuts deeper than if she'd screamed. "Her father and brother are dead. Her world is upside down. And now she's been dragged here with no explanation."

"I wanted her to show you respect," I say weakly. "You're going to be her?—"

"What? Her step-aunt?" Aurora shakes her head. "You threw that at her with no warning. She deserved better from you."

I run a hand over my face. "I know,zarechka. I know."

"Do you?" She steps closer. "Because that wasn't protection. It was control."

Her words hit like bullets. Direct and devastating.

"You can offer your nieces physical protection," she continues, softer now. "But you can't control how they think or feel. You can't command away their pain."

I turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "I sounded just like him."

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