Page 90 of Sinner's Vow


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But today, my small rebellions are my way of showing Efrem that my body may now belong to Mikhail, but my heart and soul will only ever belong to him.

We spend the rest of dinner in silence, and after a fresh round of champagne has been served to all our guests, Mikhail rises for the toast.

“I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate this joyous occasion. Many of you may not know the story of how Dani and I fell in love,” he starts. His opening statement is so jarring that I look up at him sharply, wondering where he could possibly be going with that line.

“We’re an unlikely couple, I know. One, not everyone might approve of—an older, distinguished businessman and the young, talented up-and-coming photography student who happened to be the sister of said businessman’s production assistant.”

A hush settles over the audience as they sink in to hear this fabricated tale of romance. I sit in stunned silence as I watch him weave a pretty picture that’s miles away from the truth.

“We met at a family dinner, actually. Dani’s brother—my singular assistant—Ben insisted I meet his parents because he knew his father and I aligned on so many social and political matters.”

Mikhail raises his glass in a salute to my father, and Dad returns the gesture with a congenial smile.

Then Mikhail continues. “At the time, I’d assumed I was too old for someone so fair and intelligent and spirited as Dani,” he says warmly, looking down on me with an expression that so closely mimics love it makes my heart somersault uncomfortably. “But our attraction was apparent from the start. I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight. I hardly consider myself a romantic man. But what Dani and I have… it’s undeniable.”

A collective sigh rushes through the crowd, a rapt audience completely entranced by Mikhail’s fairy tale. And he smiles as he nods in agreement with his audience.

“The loss of Ben was… devastating. For all of us. Such a true, kind, brilliant light extinguished far too soon from this world.”

I swallow convulsively at the prop my brother’s death just became in Mikhail’s wedding toast, and the sudden urge to vomit becomes almost unbearable. How dare he say Ben’s name? How dare he use my brother to tug at the heartstrings of our wedding guests? And that’s exactly what he’s doing.

It’s disgustingly effective.

Several guests dab at their eyes with their napkins, others sniffling as they try to keep their emotions in check.

“The one thing that has given me and the Richelieu family any solace is that his death brought Dani and me closer together. We found comfort in each other’s presence, and our companionship quickly blossomed into a romance…”

The audible swoon that ripples through the room would say that Mikhail has everyone eating out of his hand. But it turns my stomach. And that bile I’ve been fighting so hard to keep down until now rises in my throat with such force that I know there’s no stopping it this time.

Without remorse, I turn and bend in my chair, vomiting directly over Mikhail’s dress shoes. Mikhail leaps back in disgust, and cries of shock rise from the nearest tables. Meanwhile, I brace on the table and the back of my chair as I keep my face hidden behind the white tablecloth so no one can see my face.

Or the smile that spreads across my lips as I finish being sick.

The wedding quickly unravels as servers rush to clean up the mess.

Somewhere, in the background, I can hear Mikhail apologizing, saying his young bride must have overindulged in the champagne. But to me, this is a victory I intend to cherish.

Because I know I’m going to pay for it dearly.

38

EFREM

Every inch of my body is pure agony. My flesh bruised and battered, my bones meticulously stressed to the point just before breaking. My lips are split and swollen, the insides of my mouth cut up from the numerous punches to my jaw and cheeks.

Shy of having parts of my body removed, I’ve seen and experienced every kind of torture over these past few weeks. Or has it been months? Years?

Time means nothing in this hellhole I now call home.

And as I watch them drag Maks’s lifeless body from his cell, I know it’s only going to get worse. He was the last man standing with me, a comrade in misery and defeat. And now, I’m on my own.

“Want to say goodbye?” one of Mikhail’s men asks, looking at me.

He and his buddy pause in front of where I stand, chained in the center of the room. And as he grips a handful of Maks’s signature red hair, he turns the limp head in my direction, revealing my Veles brother’s lifeless eyes.

My arms stretched to their limits on either side of me, went numb hours ago, and the wound to my chest has developed a pulse of its own. But it’s my lungs that feel like they’re on fire as I release a low snarl.

The men release cold, barking laughs, reveling in their bad joke.

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