Page 36 of Vendetta Crown

I slam my palm against the desk.

"What if all this ends with me building higher walls around Aurora to keep her safe, and she feels just as trapped by me as she does by Kristofer?" My throat tightens. "What then?"

Artyom studies me for a long moment, his face impassive except for a slight softening around his eyes.

"Do you hear yourself, Ruslan?" he finally asks. "You wouldn't be this terrified of trapping her if you didn't love her enough to care about her freedom."

There it is again.

Love.

"Aurora survived seven years on her own before you," Artyom continues. "She escaped Kristofer not once, but twice now. The second time, she managed to negotiate protection from Potyomkin himself. Something that even fucking Gregor Belov had a hard time with. That woman is many things, but she's no damsel in distress."

He's right. I'd told Aurora the same thing when I held her in my arms again in Potyomkin's penthouse.

"She doesn't need your walls, Ruslan." Artyom's voice cuts through my thoughts. "She needs your trust."

I turn away, staring out the window at the garden where Aurora sits with Vera, her blonde hair catching sunlight. Even from here, I can see the bruise on her cheek that makes my blood boil.

"Tell her," Artyom says softly.

"Tell her what?" But I already know.

"Tell her you love her." His words are simple but land with the force of a command. "If she knows your protection comes from love, not control, she'll never feel trapped. She'll feel cherished."

I press my forehead against the cool glass.

"Trust her strength, Ruslan. The way she trusts yours."

"I can't tell her I love her." The confession feels like acid on my tongue. "Not until I know I can keep her safe."

I stare down at my hands, the same hands that held Aurora while she sobbed in Potyomkin's suite, the same ones that touched the bruises Kristofer left on her body.

These hands failed to protect her.

"It would be a lie otherwise." I finish.

Artyom crosses his arms, his face hardening. "That's bullshit and you know it."

"Is it?" I snap back. "I promised to keep her safe, and look what happened."

"And what would you rather do, Ruslan?" Artyom's voice cuts through my self-pity like a blade. "Wait until there's no more threat to your lives before you tell her you love her? If you do that, then you'llnevertell her. There willalwaysbe another Semyon, another Kristofer, another enemy waiting to strike."

I turn away, unable to meet his eyes. "Maybe this is just a sign that I'm not made for love."

"What?"

"Maybe I don't deserve the love of someone as good as Aurora." The words taste bitter but honest. "Maybe we're all just repeating the same cycle."

Artyom crosses the distance between us in two strides, gripping my shoulders hard enough to hurt.

"Don't you dare finish that thought." His eyes flash with anger. "You are nothing like your father. And you are nothing like Lev."

"I failed her?—"

"Stop it!" Artyom's voice is like iron. "You're wrong. Dead wrong. Everyone deserves love, Ruslan. Even people like us. Especially people like us."

His grip softens, but his gaze doesn't. "Aurora sees something in you that's worth loving. Are you going to tell her she's wrong? That she's wasted her heart on you?"

---