Page 31 of Vows of Blood

"He had a clear shot of you," Nico says carefully. "Why didn't he take it?"

I know what he’s suggesting, that the shooter knows Sienna, and with her trapped under my body, finishing me would have meant killing her too. But I don't answer. I'm still trying to push down the rising tornado of anger and betrayal that I feel.

She fucking lied to me.

"Think about it." Nico presses on. "She shows up at your engagement party, of all places, after ten years, on the same night someone decides to take a shot at you.”

The words settle into the silence. I turn his words over, looking for a flaw in the logic, but I can't find one.

"If this were anyone else," Nico adds, quieter now, "you'd already have them in a room with Corso."

He's right, but that’s not what’s going to happen here, even if I do accept the possibility that she might have been involved.

Draining what's left in my glass, I pause the footage on that one gesture she chose not to share with me. "Do not show this to Father."

Nico stares at me. "He'll want to see everything we have."

"I said no." The look I give him leaves no room for argument. "Not until I've dealt with her."

He holds my gaze for a long moment, weighing whether to push back on the wisdom of me getting personally involved. “I could find out. If you didn’t want to set Corso on her.”

“NO.”

"Fine. But let the record show, I think dealing with her yourself, is going to blow up in your face.”

When I crack my knuckles, he pales but continues.

“And he’s going to use you keeping this from him as a reason to keep his grubby hands on the reins for a while longer."

Probably.

"I'll worry about him. You reach out to the Russians and make sure this isn’t their doing."

Nico nods, but there’s no missing the concern in his eyes. This woman pushed me to the edge once before.

"And get me that fucking file," I say, fixated on the grainy image of the woman I was once convinced would be by my side forever.

"And then?"

I pour myself another measure and lean back in my chair.

"Then I pay Sienna another visit and make sure she understands she’s not going to be able to run from me this time."

10

SIENNA

The punching bag swings back, and I hit it again, harder this time, channeling every bit of anger and frustration I have into the impact. Sweat drips down my spine, my knuckles aching through the wraps, and for a few blessed seconds, I'm not thinking about anything except the next strike.

Jab. Cross. Hook.

My muscles burn in that satisfying way that tells me I'm pushing myself, that I'm strong, and that I can handle whatever comes next.

Including Luca fucking Calvano.

I've been coming to this gym for three years now, ever since I moved to the city. It's not fancy, just a converted warehouse with peeling paint and equipment held together with duct tape, run by volunteers to give the local kids something to do and somewhere to go, but it's part of my routine. My sanity.

Jab. Jab. Cross. Hook.