Semua Bab The Silence Of His Vows: Bab 31 - Bab 40

This is what it will be like.The thought hit me suddenly. Violently.This is what the rest of my life will be like.His hands on me. His breath on my skin. His weight pressing me down. Night after night after night until I stopped being a person and became just a thing he owned.My throat tightened.I tilted my head back. Looked up at him. Widened my eyes. Made them soft and adoring.The performance. Always the performance."Beautiful," he murmured. His eyes traveled down to my chest. Hungry. "You were made for me, Luna."No. I wasn't.I was made in violence and broken by cruelty and now I was being sold like livestock to a man who looked at me like I was meat.He spun me. Badly. I stumbled slightly. He jerked me back into position, his grip tightening painfully on my hand."Careful," he said. But his tone wasn't concerned. It was irritated.Don't damage the merchandise.Over his shoulder, I caught sight of Volkov.He was still by the pillar. Arms crossed. Face carved from stone.Watc

BOOM.The shockwave hit us. A wall of pressure and sound. The SUV rocked violently.Ahead of us, the east wing of the estate erupted in flames. Fire bloomed into the night sky. Debris rained down. Stone. Glass. Burning wood."DOWN!" Volkov roared.He threw the SUV into reverse. Backed up fast. Spun us around. Put the vehicle between us and the blast.Another explosion. Smaller. The garage this time.Fire everywhere. The night lit up like daylight.I stared at the flames through the window. Watched the place I'd lived my entire life burn.My ears were ringing. I couldn't hear anything except a high-pitched whine.Volkov was on the radio. His mouth was moving. I couldn't hear the words.The gates opened wider. Men poured out. Security. Some were firing into the darkness. Others were dragging hoses toward the flames.Volkov looked back at me.His mouth moved. I read his lips.Stay in the car.He got out. Gun drawn. Moved toward the chaos.I sat alone in the back seat. Watched the fire. Wa

The StudyThe heavy oak doors were bolted shut.Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke and something sharper. Fear, maybe. Or rage barely contained.Don Dario Vitiello paced behind his massive desk like a caged animal. The "loving father" mask he wore in public had been ripped away. His face was flushed dark red. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold air. His hands shook as he poured scotch into a crystal tumbler, sloshing half of it onto the polished wood."They breached the perimeter," Dario hissed, slamming the glass down so hard it cracked. "They got past twenty armed men, through a coded gate, and blew up half my fucking estate."He grabbed the bottle. Poured again. Drank it in one gulp."Do you understand what that means, Vincenzo? It means we're exposed. It means they're inside. Someone in my own house sold us out."Vincenzo Moretti sat in the leather wingback chair near the fireplace. He looked almost bored. One leg crossed over the other. Picking a piece of lint of

I woke to the sound of a door closing.Not slamming. Just the quiet click of wood meeting wood.My eyes opened. I stared at the ceiling beams for a long moment before I remembered where I was.Not my bedroom at the mansion. Not the silk canopy and plaster roses.The cabin.Gray morning light filtered through the small window. Cold. Colorless.I sat up slowly. My body ached everywhere. The drive. The explosion. The bruise on my stomach throbbed with every breath.I was still fully dressed. Same clothes from yesterday. Wrinkled now. Dirty.I stood. My legs felt unsteady. When had I finally fallen asleep? I didn't remember. Just lying there in the dark. Listening to the silence.I walked to the door. Opened it.The main room was empty.The fire had burned down to cold ash. The chair Volkov had been sitting in was pushed back against the wall. His duffel bag was gone from beside the couch.The front door was closed but not locked from the inside.He was outside.I stood in the doorway of m

I woke to the sound of wind battering the cabin walls.The storm hadn't stopped. Snow pressed against the windows in thick white sheets. The world outside had disappeared completely.I sat up on the couch where I'd fallen asleep. My neck ached from the awkward angle. The fire had burned down to nothing. The room was freezing.Volkov was already awake. He stood at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee from a metal pot. Steam rose in lazy spirals.He turned when he heard me move."Your father calls in forty minutes," he stated. Flat. Matter of fact. "Get yourself presentable."He set a mug of coffee on the table. Walked back to his equipment without another word.I stood slowly. My body protested. Every muscle stiff from yesterday's cold and today's uncomfortable sleeping position.I picked up the coffee. It was too hot but I drank it anyway. Needed the warmth spreading through my chest.Forty minutes.I looked down at myself. Wrinkled clothes. Tangled hair. No makeup.Father couldn't see