Page 279 of Ruins
They’re going to take her. Torture her. Send her back to me in pieces.
Her delicate hand in a box with thatdamnring on her finger.
The same fucking ring my mother had when they sent her back to me. The same ring my grandmother died in. The curse, real or not, has found her too.
If they take her, I will burn every city to the ground until I find her.
Vasilisa
Santo left with an army of men. He left me here, safe with a group of guards at the gate and Romeo to keep me company. My nerves are frayed.
I could feel my heart racing as he walked away.
I longed to plead with him, to make him promise that he would return to me.
Promise that we would take countless vacations together, read endless books side by side, and make a family of giant babies. But I swallowed back the words and instead pressed my lips against his, silently conveying my love and trust as I watched him leave.
Romeo distracts me with stories and jokes about his family in Chicago. We sit in the library, and I continue my painting for Santo. I paint with hope—hope that when he comes home, I can gift it to him. I just have to keep positive thoughts.
Santo will come home.
“That’s how I ended up here,” Romeo says, and I realize I haven’t been paying attention. Guilt prickles at me, but I smile politely and decide to ask questions—anything to keep my mind occupied.
“Will you be a Capo someday, then?” I ask, continuing to paint. A drop of red splatters onto my shirt, blending into the fabric. I now regret wearing a white sweater over my leggings.
“I won’t. I’m the third son—not the heir or the spare,” he chuckles. “It’s why I was easy to send away.”
“Would you rather be in Chicago?”
“Honestly, no. I like it here. Plus, I have Lila.”
“Wait, you and Lila are—”
The deafening crack of gunfire erupts outside, shattering the fragile peace of the mansion.
I whip my head toward the windows, my breath catching as three cars barrel onto the property. Santo’s guards open fire, bullets flashing in the night. Romeo jumps to his feet beside me, every trace of humor gone.
“Vasilisa, we have to get you somewhere safe,” he says, snapping me from my frozen panic. He grips my arm, dragging me down the stairs to the master bedroom. We burst inside, and he slams the door shut, locking it behind us.
“Romeo, we need to call Santo, or Angelo, or Luca,” I gasp out in a panic.
“Vasi, calm down,” he urges, his voice low and sharp, but laced with urgency. He crouches, gripping my shoulders so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “You’re going to lock yourself in the elevator and wait for Santo to come get you.”
I shake my head frantically. Everything in me screams that I can’t leave him.
“Romeo, you have to come with me. We could both—”
“No,” he cuts me off firmly. No hesitation. No room for argument.
“You go alone and stay there. Only you, Santo, and Angelo have access to that elevator. If it opens, it will be one of them.”
Tears blur my vision as the gravity of the situation slams into me.
“Romeo,” I whisper, pleading.
Before he can respond a loud banging echoes through the mansion’s front door followed by the sound of boots stamping inside. Chills run up my back and arms.
They’ve broken in.
