“I want you to help me keep us both alive,” I correct. “Look, I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. I know I’ve made your life shitty since you came here, but right now, we’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her fingers still intertwined tightly. “What kind of information?”
“Anything that might help me understand who would want the peace to fail. Your uncle Marcus—tell me more about him.Reallytell me, not the intelligence file version. What kind of man is he? What motivates him? Would he sabotage a meeting where his own family was at risk?”
She considers this carefully before sighing, “Marcus is... ambitious. Always has been. He’s my father’s younger brother, and I think he’s always resented being second.” A bitter smile crosses her full lips. “When my father decided to pursue peace with your family, Marcus was against it from the start. He said it made us look weak.”
Yes, this is what I’m looking for. “So he’d have motive to sabotage it,” I say, writing this down.
“Maybe.” She bites her lip, thinking. “But killing his own brother? Risking Vincent’s life? I don’t know if he’d go that far.”
How naive of her. “People do surprising things for power,” I remind her.
“I know.” Her voice is soft. “I’m living proof of that, aren’t I?”
I suppress a flinch. She’s right. Vera’s here because both our families decided she was an acceptable sacrifice for their own ends.
“What about your father?” I ask, wanting to move away from this uncomfortable line of questions. “His relationship with Marcus. Any tension there? Any signs of conflict?”
She thinks about it, and I can see her mentally going through memories, analyzing them with fresh eyes. “They argue sometimes. About strategy, about how aggressive to be with territory expansions. Marcus always wants to push harder and take more risks. My father is more cautious.” She pauses. “But they’re brothers. They’ve always presented a united front to outsiders.”
“Until now, maybe.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t sound convinced.
“If your father contacts you, I need to know,” I continue. “Not to use against him, but because I need to understand what they’re planning.”
She laughs bitterly. “He won’t contact me. First, because you’ve forbidden me to have any contact with the outside world.” She fixes me with a piercing look.
Oh yeah, I did do that.
“Second,” she continues, “he made that clear yesterday when he ran without checking if I was alive. I’m not his problem anymore. I’myours.”
The way she says “yours” hurts. It’s like she’s accepted it and resigned herself to being property that changed hands.
“What about before the wedding?” I ask. “In those ten days between when you found out and when we got married. Did you notice anything unusual? Any meetings, any conversations that seemed off?”
She crosses her legs at the ankles, thinking. “Like I said earlier, there were a lot of closed-door meetings,” she finally says, like she’s lost in thought. “My father and Marcus, my father and your uncle. A lot of phone calls. But I wasn’t involved in any of it. Again, they kept me away from the planning as apparently, it was better if I didn’t know the details.”
“Did you ever hear them arguing? About the terms, about the arrangement?” I ask, hoping that she eavesdropped. Alexei used to be the king of that.
“Once.” She looks down at her hands. “The night before the wedding. I heard my father and Marcus fighting about something. Marcus said—” She stops, like she’s not sure she should continue.
“What did he say?” I ask urgently, heart thumping.
She looks pained. “He said ‘this is a mistake’ and something about how it would ‘never hold’. My father told him to shut up, that it was already decided. Then Marcus said…” She swallows. “He said, ‘Don’t come crying to me when the Volkovs get exactly what they deserve.’”
Red crosses my vision. “What they deserve?” I ask harshly, unable to help myself.
Vera eyes me warily. “That’s what he said. I didn’t know what it meant at the time. I thought maybe he was just bitter about the peace.” She looks up at me. “But now…”
“Now it sounds like he knew something was planned.” I lean back, mulling everything over. “What else? Anything else you remember from that conversation?”
“My father said something about ‘maintaining appearances’ and ‘seeing it through.’ Then they must have heard me outside the door because they stopped talking.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have more than that. They never included me in family business. I was just... there. The daughter. The bargaining chip.”
Damn. While it’s not much, she did give me some valuable information, and I am grateful for it.
“If I do this,” she says slowly, “if I help you... what happens to me? To my family? When you find who’s responsible?”
