Page 133 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

A swampy smell wafts through the vents. I check each house number as I slow down. This place isn’t too far from Newark.

But it’s far enough to hide someone.

I locate the place in no time. While tucking my phone away, I hope that Liya isn’t too angry about me leaving Stepan behind. Someone has to keep an eye on her.

I trust Stepan with that task the most.

The white structure looks innocuous enough. It’s close to the water, brown boards leading from the house to a small pier on the side. I park out front and glance around. The place is deserted. But it shouldn’t be. Not technically.

Already, my gut stings with that familiar sensation ofwrong. I cross the lawn, walk quietly up the steps and observe the area. The windows are clouded with age. The boards are rotting around the panes; moss grows in various places. When I put my ear to the door, I don’t hear movement on the other side.

Either Zoya and Willow are quiet, or they’re not here.

A fine layer of dust rests on top of the doorknob. Nobody’s been here for months, maybe even years.

Agitation cuts through my gut instinct. I hop off the porch and head back to the car while surveying the area. Not a chance anyone saw anything. Even if they did, they wouldn’t talk. I wouldn’t talk either.

But that begs the question: who tipped off Cardona?

As I pull out my phone to text Liya, I notice a new message in the notifications bar. It’s a picture from an unknown number.

The lighting is awful, but I can make out two women tied to chairs. Black hair and blue eyes. Mascara stains from crying with a dirty-looking gag in her mouth.

Zoya.

Blonde hair, hazel eyes, smudged foundation. Duct tape is over her mouth.

Willow.

The man standing next to them looks all too proud of himself. Round, arrogant, and smoking an expensive cigar.

Felix Cardona.

The two women are bound and gagged, but otherwise, they seem unharmed. Scared out of their minds, probably, but that’s a far cry better than what could have happened. Cardona must’ve known that doing anything to them could prompt Liya’s ire and response.

A message sits underneath the picture. The man’s a lover of theatrics, and this is no exception. It’s exactly the kind of message that would come from him. The timing of it is spectacular and simple enough to make me feel cold in spite of the lingering heat.

Three little words:

I’m no liar.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Liya

That look.

It’s absolutely horrifying.

It makes my stomach twist to look into Willow’s eyes, those hazel marbles that usually host so much life. Now, they appear like bleak glass balls void of use. She’s scared. But more frighteningly, she’s given up.

This is my fault. I shakily set the phone on the table.I dragged her into this.

Zoya is next to Willow in the picture. She’s still wearing the blouse I gave her, but she’s cried off all her makeup. The hat and sunglasses are gone. And the same vacant expression is in her eyes as well.

It was stupid to ever think I could have her smuggled to New Jersey in such a cheap disguise.

Tears sting my eyes for the millionth time today.

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