Page 34 of Ruined Vows
Just like she’s in mine.
But the happiness I’m experiencing on this bright morning sours as soon as I see Radovan, the shell of a man, waiting for me in the shadows.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
He leans against the back wall of the training compound with a cigarette burning low between two knuckles. His eyes are sharp beneath the swirling hood of smoke. He’s been here a while, waiting and scheming. That’s how he likes to operate—just out of reach, close enough to be a threat, but not enough to draw blood.
Yet.
I don’t trust him. I never did.
My younger brother, David, falls in behind me without a word. David is loyal, intelligent, and steadfast. He’s well, unshakable. And hell, he’s family. Not the kind you tolerate,the kind you can’t wait to see again. He’s not ruthless like me, and that endears him to me even more. I’m relieved that one man in the family isn’t a soulless bastard.
He’s the type of man who rolls with the punches, and there have been many. He’s one of the few men I trust right now. He stays posted near the door—casual but watchful. But if needed, he’d draw the gun he always has in his clip.
I toss my towel over the chair and speak without looking at Radovan. Making him wait lessens his power, so I generally ignore him as long as possible.
“You could’ve called,” I say, annoyed that he’s my least favorite person and yet he’s here, in my face.
“You wouldn’t answer.”
He’s right. I wouldn’t.
I start unwrapping the tape from my fists. “You’re getting good at showing up when you're least wanted.”
“You’re getting good at disappointing the men who built you.”
That earns him a scathing look. What the fuck?
“I built it myself.” The nerve of this piece of shit. He’s young and has never experienced what it’s like to work his way up from nothing.
He takes a slow drag. “You aligned with the Italians. That’s dangerous. Are you marrying that Borrelli woman?”
I see his point. He’s predictable. Of course, he’d made an issue of my marrying the gorgeous Italian. I anticipated pushback from my men. And of all the men under me, Radovan and my uncle are two I knew would give me grief.
And the saddest part is that they’re not even loyal to their beliefs. They change their opinions with the wind, as if they don’t even know how hypocritical they are.
They’ll pull at any thread to unravel me. But they know it won’t be easy. And now, their goal is to unseat me, which is a polite way of signing my death warrant.
“Iclaimedher,” I growl.
He scoffs. “So this is what it’s about now? A crown jewel for your empire? Eye candy? I thought you would marry one of our own.”
He sucks on the cigarette hanging from his mouth. He reeks of liquor and smoke.
“No,” I say. “It’s about making sure we don’t choke on the memory of men who died trying to hold on to power they didn’t understand. And the rules they broke that rained hellfire on us.”
He blows a smoke ring in the warm air, and his jaw clenches. I know the name that sits just behind his teeth. The name he won’t speak, but one he applauds.
Miloš.
My brother. My blood. The former leader of our syndicate.
The man who got himself killed by touching a woman he shouldn’t have touched—a woman under the Borellis’ protection.
Miloš was a man who failed to follow the rules. Not that I’m surprised. He had a checkered past. Even as kids, I knew he’d be the death of us.
