Page 51 of Vendetta Crown

"So drastic action had to be taken?" I growl, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. "Murder as a show of good faith to Semyon?"

To his credit, Gregor doesn't flinch. "To ensure a smooth transition. To prevent more bloodshed."

"More bloodshed?" I spit the words back at him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The blood of my family is on your hands."

"Not just my hands, Ruslan Vitalyevich." His voice drops to a whisper, like he's sharing a confession. "Someone had to give Semyon the exact timing of Lev's movements. Someone had to inform them where Mikhail would be that day, the precise location of his shooting, and the exact moment that could be used to end that boy's life."

My fingers loosen slightly from his shirt. A cold, sick feeling spreads through my gut.

"Someone with intimate knowledge of Lev's household," Gregor continues. "Someone with unfettered access. Someone that no-one would dare question."

The pieces suddenly fall into place with a sickening clarity as memories of the past few weeks come rushing back all at once.

That first phone call to Tamara after Lev died. Her voice was controlled and measured. There was no shock, no tears, no emotion other than pure acknowledgement.

I'd attributed it to her usual coldness.

But now...

When I'd told her about Mikhail, there was a flicker of hesitation, only to be followed with that same measured response.

How many times have I seen Mikhail excitedly talk to his mother about his shoots? How many times did she do nothing but nod in acknowledgement?

To think that this entire time, she was using her own son's enthusiasm to plot his death!

"It was her." The words taste like ash on my tongue. "It was Tamara all along."

My knees give out, and I sink into my chair. The room tilts sickeningly around me.

"She defied me when I ordered her to bring the girls to the mansion." My voice sounds hollow, distant. "She wanted them close."

Gregor remains silent, watching me process the full horror of what Tamara has done.

"And Aurora… she knew Aurora's real name because of Kristofer." The realization cuts like a blade. "And in exchange, she must've given Kristofer access to our security feeds through Mikayla's phone."

The depth of her betrayal is unfathomable. Her own son. Her own daughters. All sacrificial lambs.

"And if the girls had died on that day after Kristofer had taken Aurora..." My fingers dig into the armrests until they ache. "Then Semyon would've had everything."

The calculation of it all makes my stomach heave. I've known Tamara to be cold and calculating. I expected her to be.

But this…

This is something that I could not believe in a million years.

"She gave birth to them." The words scrape my throat raw. "She carried all four of them inside her for nine months, felt them kick, and watched them take their first steps. And she was willing to have all of them butchered like they mean nothing."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Gregor whispers, his eyes filled with something that almost resembles genuine regret.

I laugh, the sound harsh and broken in the sudden silence. "Sorry? You're fuckingsorry?" I rise from my chair, ignoring the pull of my wounds. "This doesn't let you off the hook, Gregor Iosifovich. You knew about this awful plan and did nothing about it."

My hand finds the empty vodka glass and hurl it against the nearest wall, shattering it.

Neither of us flinches at the sound.

"That makes you even worse than Tamara." Her name burns like acid on my tongue. "You were supposed to be the architect of peace and stability between the families."

Gregor sits straighter, some of his old confidence returning. "My aim hasalwaysbeen stability, Ruslan. The interests of theVorimust come first. Without order?—"

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