A tattoo. Wolf's head. Dagger clenched between its teeth. Sharp lines. Dark ink. Distinctive design.
Identical to the one I described to Maksim in his bed. The one I've seen in nightmares for years. The one that's burned into my memory more clearly than the face above it.
The same tattoo in the same spot where Maksim has a scar.
The same tattoo that belonged to the man who drugged me when I was twelve. Who stole my innocence and my ability to trust. Who left me broken in ways I'm still trying to repair.
My stomach drops. My vision narrows to that single image. Everything else fading to black around the edges.
Cold floods through me despite the warmth of the night. Ice in my veins. In my lungs. In the core of my chest where my heart is trying to remember how to beat.
37
VICTORIA
I stare at Vitor's body in the trunk. At the tattoo. At the impossibility of what I'm seeing.
My thoughts scatter like birds startled by gunfire. Distant. Unreachable. Like I'm watching this happen to someone else from very far away. A movie I'm observing rather than a nightmare I'm living.
The metallic smell of blood cuts through the night air. Sharp. Undeniable. Mixed with wet asphalt and exhaust from passing cars on the street behind us. The scent crawls into my throat, making me want to gag.
I can't look away from the tattoo. The wolf's head. The dagger between its teeth. The exact image I see every time I close my eyes and remember that night.
"Victoria." Jelena's voice cuts through the static filling my head. "Listen to me."
I force myself to breathe. In. Out.
"I found out the truth about the Severyns." Jelena's words come fast. Urgent. Each one landing like a small detonation. "They staged the coup against the Valkov Bratva. Everyone thinks they dismantled it. That they ended the flesh trafficking operations.
She pauses. Lets the words settle.
"But they didn't. They just seized power. Took over the operations. They never left the trafficking behind. They're still running everything the Valkovs built. This tattoo is the proof. It’s the tattoo of those who were loyal to Valkov. And now the Severyn Bratva wears it too. And they're working with the Albanians to expand."
"No." The word comes out weak. Unconvincing even to my own ears.
But pieces are clicking into place against my will. Unwanted connections forming patterns I don't want to see.
Luan's visit this morning.
The tattoo. The one I described to Maksim while lying in his arms. Vulnerable. Trusting. Telling him about the worst violation of my life.
The wolf and dagger. I gave him every detail. And he said nothing. Revealed nothing.
The scar that Maksim has above his heart, in the exact same place that Vitor has his tattoo.
If they truly left the Valkov Bratva behind, if they really ended that chapter, why didn't he tell me when I opened my trauma to him? Why keep that secret unless there was a reason to hide it?
And they were so quick to volunteer help to our operation. To support what we're building. No questions. No conditions. Just immediate willingness to throw resources at a vigilante organization they'd known about for less than a day.
Were they looking for a way in? A way to control it? A way to know exactly what we were planning so they could neutralize any threat we might pose?
My stomach turns. Cold sweat breaks across my skin despite the hot night air.
"We need to leave." Jelena closes the trunk with a soft thud that makes me flinch. "Before they realize you're not at the opera. Before they come looking. We need to go somewhere safe."
I nod. Numb. My body moving on autopilot while my mind tries to catch up with reality fracturing around me.
I get into the passenger seat. The car smells like leather and copper.
