Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

31

Aria

Ilift my head and wince from the bolt of pain that jangles my mind.

The effect sends me right back to the pillow where I lay, leaving me momentarily dazed.

Jesus, my head hurts like a bitch, and I feel wretched, like shit.

I glance at the clock on the bedroom wall and see it’s one in the morning. I hate waking so early. It’s always hard to go back to sleep.

As my mind adjusts, I remember what happened yesterday, along with everything I told Lucca when he found me in that room.

Christ. I told him everything. Everything I couldn’t tell Dr. Belmont.

I don’t think I would have said anything if I hadn't drunk so much.

Now that I’ve spilled my mind and accepted one of the horrors of my past, what do I do?

I was raped.

That word in my mind makes me sick. No wonder my brain suppressed that memory. Who wants to remember that?

And who wants to know that there's more to come?

It's enough that such a vile thing happened to me as a child.

But there is more. I think of the gun in my dream and hearing it go off, then there was the blood.

There's only one thing seeing a gun could mean. It means I must have seen someone die.

Who, though?

I glance down at myself and see I’m wearing one of the long nightshirts I have stashed away in my borrowed drawer.

Lucca must have changed me.

And where is he?

Was he called away again? Called away to kill someone.

Or is he with her?

Violet.

I remember him saying nothing happened between them, but I don't know if I believe that.

I'm such a fool. Wasn't it me who told him I didn't care who he was with?

Look at me now, caring.

I don't want to care, so I close my eyes and try to escape into sleep once more.

One hour later and I’m still trying to escape. Sleep doesn’t come, and I actually feel more awake and less affected by my overdose on wine.

I sit up again, and when my gaze drifts toward the window, I decide maybe it’s fresh air I need. That always helps to clear my head, and right now, I need that.

I’m not exactly a fan of walking around outside at night, but I don’t think I can stay inside this room or the house. It’s too suffocating.

I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a baggy jumper. I still grab a wrap for my shoulders, though, just in case it’s chilly or starts to rain like the other night.

When I step outside and feel the chill in the air and moisture, I’m grateful for the wrap.

Covering my shoulders, I proceed down to the courtyard, where I instantly see one of his guards patrolling. He spots me too, so I halt my stride when he approaches.

“Hello, Miss. Everything okay?” he asks in a Russian accent so thick it’s clear he probably only speaks English when he has to.

“Yes, I just needed some fresh air,” I explain with a little smile. I don’t want any problems or him alerting Lucca. I don’t feel like speaking to anyone right now, least of all him.

“The boss wouldn’t like you walking out here so late.”

“I swear I won’t be any trouble. I don’t plan to go far, and I won’t stay out too long either. I just really needed some air. Surely, it’s okay to get some air, right?”

He nods, seeming to accept that. “Yes, of course. Well, I’m around here if you need any assistance. Kazimir and a few others are on the other side of the courtyard.”

Translation: there’s enough of us on-site, so don’t even try to escape.

“Thank you very much.” I dip my head and continue walking, feeling his eyes on me right up until I get to the first archway.

Glancing over my shoulder quickly, I confirm he’s walking back to his post before I turn into the area with the pond.

I can’t see him anymore. Good, now I can relax again.

The roses still look beautiful in the moonlight. They almost have that neo-noir vibe, where the silver moonlight highlights the vivid bloodshot color against the black night.

I walk the entire length of the courtyard and down to the lake where Marylin lives.

A candle burns on the window bay of the room downstairs in the cottage. In the amber light, I can just see her sitting on a rocking chair, reading. Unlike the pristine chignon, her hair is usually kept in, her hair flows down her shoulders in long graceful waves that make her look younger.

I’m surprised she’s up at this hour. She starts work early.

Maybe she doesn’t sleep well because of what happened to her husband. Or maybe she’s worried about Lucca. She treats him more like he’s her son than her boss. I’ve never asked her if she had any kids. She clearly never remarried either.

I know I worried her earlier, and if I were crazy enough to go bothering her now, she’d worry even more.

Allowing the cool night air to work its magic on me, I keep going along the path, away from the cottage. I wouldn’t be crazy enough to knock on her door even if all was well with me.

As clarity comes to my mind, I allow myself to think again. Think of who attacked me.

Why was there a man in my bedroom when I was a child, and who was he?

Kukla. That’s what he called me.

It sounded Russian, along with his accent. So now that I know Dad works for the Bratva, I’m assuming the man was one of them.

Now is not the time to second guess myself. If I think something could be possible, then chances are it is. I’m not exactly dreaming of aliens or creatures from the Black Lagoon.

What I’m seeing in my dreams are possibly reconstructions of my past. Sure, not everything is going to be exactly as my dreams show me, but I won’t discredit what I see as simple dreams.

So, who was he?

Would Dad know?

Would Sienna know?

Would Lucca know?

Of the three people, my best bet is asking Dad because he’d know specifics about who was in the house.

Then again, that monster said to me if I told anyone, he’d kill them. So, what if he snuck into my room?

All the same, my family home was guarded. Even if the man snuck into my room, Dad would know who was on the premises at all times. So, I need to summon the courage to speak to him, and I guess it would help too if I could remember a bit more like a face.

A fucking face would help massively.

I don’t know what I expect to do when I find that face in my mind, but I need to do something for myself.

Somehow, I must have dealt with it when I was younger. Obviously, I never told anybody what happened because I thought the man would kill my parents.

A screeching noise cuts into my thoughts, and I look around me to see where it came from.

There’s nothing anywhere, but I’m near the forbidden wall of Ivy.

I walk closer and stop when I see a little wooden door at the end of the wall. I didn’t see it when Marylin gave me the tour last week, probably because I was so busy thinking of how absurd it was that I couldn’t go in that section of the house.

I see it now, and curiosity piques my interest to find out what’s beyond the wall.

What could Lucca be keeping there or not want anyone to see?

Bearing his chosen line of work in mind, could he be keeping bodies behind there? Maybe that’s where he buries them.

Fuck,what if it’s that? Suppose it is?

My God, suddenly I feel like I’m in a horror film. My stomach twists when I realize this man will be my husband in a little over a week, and these are the thoughts I’m having.

I slept with him several times. I can’t even put my actions down to a one-time thing. And I can’t do that anyway, because I don’t want to.

I wanted him.

That thing inside me made me want him.

If I can accept that, then don’t I want to know everything I can about this man?

Like his secrets. His dark secrets.

Common sense would tell me not to poke the dragon by defying his rules, especially when we’re not on good terms at the moment.

He was pissed at me because of Dad, and I’m pissed as fuck with him because of Violet. I don’t care if nothing happened between them yesterday, she was dressed for sex, and I heard what she said.

They’d been together before, several times from the look of it, or she wouldn’t have thought it was okay to strip off her top in his office and beg him to fuck her.

With that reasoning, I look around to check there are no guards, and when I’m satisfied I’m not being watched, I walk toward the door.