Page 29 of Vow Of Fire

Problem was, Valentina wouldn’t see it the same way. Better to lie now and ask for forgiveness later than to make a mistake I had to live with for the rest of my life.

“She signed her death warrant when she sold us out to Malakov,” Valentina said. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“What’s the latest on the investigation?” I asked.

“Still nothing more from Marco’s cop contact.” She raised an eyebrow. “However, Nico traced the call from the landline at the gallery to a burner we now know belongs to Malakov.”

My jaw tightened. “Is he sure it was Malakov’s burner and not Mikhail Orlov’s cell?” Evelyn had already admitted to talking to Mikhail.

She gave me a strange look. “I trust Nico.”

My brother had skills, no doubt about it. He’d been trained by the best. MIT and then a vast underground network of hackers, none of whom went by their real names.

She’d lied to me.

Likely a retainer. Call Mikhail.

She’d called my fucking bluff, knowing full well I wouldn’t confirm it. Meanwhile, she’d been in direct contact with Malakov himself.

Barely knew him, my ass.

“I’ve instructed Vincent to close our buyer accounts,” my mother continued, “and to make sure nothing leads back to us. When the cops start looking into her disappearance, we have to make sure we’re invisible.”

Protect the family. That was always the priority.

I reached for my glass and took a sip. It was a good vintage, but it tasted sour on my tongue. The food came and we ate. It was delicious, as always, but I didn’t have an appetite.

I’d just told my mother I’d “taken care” of Evelyn; now I had to make good on that lie. But first, I was going to make that little vixen pay.

I pulled up outside the cabin and cut the engine. The drive from the city had riled me up and adrenaline was pumping through my body, fueling my anger.

I should have seen through her lies. I should have known she’d betrayed me, but she was so fucking good at it that I’d been blindsided.

Those guileless emerald eyes, those quivering full lips.

I dragged a hand through my hair.

Shit.

She’d even tapped into my one insecurity. Sensed that I had to be sure. And she’d played on it. Played me like a fucking fiddle.

I almost hadn’t come back here tonight. It wasn’t strictly necessary. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. I had guys patrolling the perimeter, keeping a close eye on her. I could have simply driven through tomorrow and taken care of business.

Except here I was. A sucker for punishment.

One more night, I decided.

I’d spend one more night with her at the cabin, and then tomorrow… it would all be over. Even now, the Glock in my glove compartment was burning a hole in the dashboard.

I climbed out of my SUV. The man holding the M4 assault rifle nodded at me. It was a clean, precise, military-grade weapon, like the men themselves.

They were ex-soldiers, pulled from my old unit before it was disbanded. Disillusioned with the government, the cause, the endless politics, but still wired for war. They needed work, and I needed men who could follow orders without flinching or asking questions.

They were loyal to me, and only me.

My family might be my primary obligation, but I had contacts too. I had a network of associates that my family knew nothing about, and it had to be that way if I was to maintain any semblance of independence.

I’d learned a long time ago not to put all my eggs in one basket, be it the Marcellis or the United States government. If it all went to shit, at least I had options. I’d be okay. I was nothing if not a survivor.