Page 42 of Empire
I breathe out a sigh. “Understood.”
The line goes dead, and I stand there, holding the receiver and listening to the empty hum before I hang it up slowly.
When I step back into the bedroom where Salvatore sits, he reads enough in my expression that he doesn’t ask the wrong question.
“You have to go.”
“Yes.”
He nod once, too calm. That worries me more than panic would. He crosses the room and stops in front of me. “I’ll leave in the morning.”
The thought of coming back to the villa devoid of him hits me with an absurd, immediate fury. As if absence itself would be an insult after this day.
“No.”
His eyes widen. “Ruslan—”
I grip the back of his neck, kiss his forehead once, then his mouth, and keep my voice as steady as I can when I say, “Wait for me.”
That line feels simple, but it’s too fucking loaded, and we both know it. Salvatore places his hand over my heart and feels how fast it’s beating.
“All right. I will wait for you.”
That is such a dangerous promise given the circumstances. I kiss him one last time before I get dressed. Then I open the front door, and the cold night air shatters our fantasy.
Our fathers are not asleep, and the world remembers exactly what it was built to do to men like us the second we start pretending otherwise.
Salvatore
High Water / Blood Sport – Sleep Token
Iknowwherethesafeis because Ruslan trusts me enough to forget I’m still a Vieri.
That thought has been rotting inside me since he left, and sticks with me as I pace.
I didn’t go looking for the safe—at least that’s the lie I tell myself anyway. I tell myself I’m only restless because Ruslan isn’t back from his summons yet. Because he’s left me alone in a villa I know he bought just for us, no matter how much he denies it. Because I’m left alone too long with my own head.
But I know better.
I go into his study because some part of me has already decided that if I’m going to condemn a man, I should at least have the fucking courage to know exactly what I’m condemning him for.
The room is dim as I step inside, and I don’t flick on the light because he’ll see it if he’s coming back. His books line the wall in no particular order because Ruslan doesn’t care enoughfor display. There are ledgers on the shelf, a pistol in the desk drawer, cigarettes in a brass box near the window, and behind a painting next to the shelf is the safe.
He’s never shown it to me. That somehow makes it worse.
I stand in front of the painting for a long moment before I move it aside. My pulse is steady; I hate that. I should be shaking. Shaking would mean there’s still some honest part of me screaming at the rest to stop before this becomes irreversible.
Instead, all I feel is cold. I am my father’s son, after all.
The dial is old but well-kept. I don’t know the combination, but I know Ruslan. I know the dates that matter to him, the numbers he circles back to without realizing. I know enough to try the one that should feel like an omen, but instead, it turns out to be correct.
The lock gives with a heavy click that sounds indecently loud in the room, and for one stupid second, I almost laugh.
The combination is my birthday.
Trust. That’s what this is. Not laziness, or even arrogance. Trust so deep it becomes carelessness. He doesn’t think I’ll do this; he doesn’t suspect that I would ever betray him.
I open the door.
