Page 119 of Ruined Vows
He leans forward and ashes his cigarette against a broken stone tray.
“This alliance of yours—with the Borrellis. It’s got the council spooked.”
“Only the weak ones,” I mutter.
“Theycall it betrayal.”
“A smart man would view it as astrategy.I don’t give a fuck what it looks like to men who’ve spent their whole lives watching others build what they were too afraid to bleed for.”
Radovan chuckles, low and dry. “You always did like the sound of your own righteousness.”
“And you always liked to hide your ambition under someone else’s blood.”
His eyes darken. And there it is, the crack in calm, he stands, slowly, dragging the chair back with a shriek across the dusty floor.
“You were never meant to be our leader,” he says. “You inherited fire and thought you could tame it.”
“I didn’t tame it,” I say. “I became it.”
We’re close now, two feet apart.
“You killed Miloš,” he says with a flat voice. It’s not an accusation. He states it like a fact, and it is.
“I did what the old ways demanded. He touched a protected girl. He brought dishonor to this house.”
Radovan’s jaw tightens. “You’ve let a woman unmake you.”
I smile. “No. She reminded me I wasn’t made for your version of survival, or your version of a leader. I’m not my brother, I have honor, and a vision.”
There’s a long pause, and then he adds, “You know the next time we see each other, it won’t be for conversation.”
I nod once. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said in years.”
I turn to go, but his voice stops me.
“Does she know?”
I pause.
“Know what?”
“That when this ends... you’ll lose part of yourself.”
I don’t turn around to answer. “She won’t have to. I don’t intend to lose. You’re a dead man walking, Radovan.”
The showdown is looming. The problem? I don’t know who is on his side, except my Uncle, and I don’t know how he will come at me. But I’m sure I’m going to find out.
Luka comesby and we walk to my office.
The envelope is thick, and when I look at it, it’s unmarked. It was left on my desk in the estate’s war room—where no one should be unless I’ve invited them in.Which means it wasn’t placed. It wasdelivered.
Which means someone is telling me they can get to me. I open it slowly and find one sheet of paper. No letterhead. No signature. Just a photo, printed in black and white.
It’s Bianca.
Taken from a distance. Blurry but unmistakable.
She steps out of the shelter, sunglasses pushed to the top of her head, and her hand holds the door to the playground open for a little boy in a red shirt.
