Page 39 of Filthy Lies

In the unlit living room, I stand by the window, staring out at the wild darkness beyond the security lights. Tonight, I became the man I swore to Rowan I was leaving behind.

I had no choice. My father’s betrayal left me no alternative.

But how can I look Rowan in the eye and tell her what I’ve done? How can I admit that the monster still lives inside me? That he always will?

She worked so hard to soften me, to believe in the better man I could become. The man worthy of her. Worthy of Sofiya.

Tonight, I failed them both.

And the worst part is, I’d do it again. Without hesitation. The need to protect them burns too fiercely, consumes too completely. If eliminating threats means reverting to the man I was—cold, calculated, merciless—then that’s the price I’ll pay.

Even if it means hiding the truth from the woman I love.

Even if it means becoming, once more, the very thing she fears.

16

ROWAN

He’s slipping away. I see it in the granite set of his jaw, the frost crystallizing in those blue eyes—colder than they’ve been in months.

I’m not fucking stupid.

His hands were raw when he came home—scrubbed clean, but I know the difference between shower-clean and evidence-clean.

Tonight, Vince came home with blood on his soul if not his hands.

No more secrets, he promised.Wepromised. But his lies hover between us like ghosts, these shapeless things I can almost touch.

The Bratva is dragging him back into the darkness, piece by piece. That other life always waits for him like an addiction he can’t quite kick.

Vince has disappeared into his study, probably thinking I’d fall asleep without him. He doesn’t realize I haven’t slept properly since the kidnapping. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back inthat room, bleeding on that filthy mattress, terrified my baby wouldn’t survive.

Some nights, the phantom pain in my womb still feels real enough to make me double over.

But tonight isn’t about my trauma. It’s about whatever Vince isn’t telling me.

I rise silently and pad out of the room. I stop in the nursery as I go. It’s a marvel that something so pure as our daughter could come from our fucked-up circumstances. She’s sleeping, one tiny fist curled beside her face like it’s raised in victory.

Running my fingers through my tangled hair, I decide enough is enough. Whatever demon is eating Vince alive, I’m not letting it devour him in silence.

I find him in his study, staring at the wall of security monitors. His back is to me, shoulders rigid beneath his white dress shirt. The glass of whiskey in his hand is untouched.

“What happened tonight?” I ask, skipping the pretense.

He doesn’t turn around. “I told you. Business matters.”

“Bullshit.” I plant my fists on my hips. “Answer the question.”

He turns, and for a split second, I see unfiltered anguish before the mask slides back into place. “Rowan, drop it. Please.”

“No.” I step into the room and cross the distance between us. “You came home with death in your eyes, Vince. I’ve seen that look before.”

His jaw clenches. “Some things are better left alone.”

“Not between us.” I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart throbbing beneath my palm. “No more secrets, remember? That was our deal after everything with your father.”

The mention of Andrei makes something dangerous dance across Vince’s face.

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