The night before the Family gala, my husband’s so-called sister, Ravenna Volkov, put my eighteen-year-old niece’s first night up on the Labyrinth, and a circle of old made men crowdfunded the bid. By morning, Lily was dead. A whole bottle of pills. The body under the sheet doesn’t look like a person anymore. Lucas catches me before I drop. In front of every man in the room, he swears it. “On my father’s name, Vivian. I find who did this, I bury him myself.” I let him hold me. I let the tears fall. I let my knees go weak against his chest. Say it louder, Lucas. The earring picks up everything past forty decibels. Then Ravenna walks in. Heels clicking. Whiskey in her hand. She drops onto the couch and throws her legs over the armrest. “Babe. That was me.” Lucas’s face changes. Just like that. “Ren runs her mouth. She’s joking.” She shrugs. “What. No guy gives a shit about some virgin. That’s a chick thing.” I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over a contact saved as a single letter—A. Lucas grabs my wrist. Snaps the phone in half. “You wanna take this outside the Family? You out of your mind?” He thinks I’m calling the cops. Five years married, and he still thinks I’m the kind of girl who calls the cops. He pulls a check from his jacket. Slides it across the coffee table. “One niece. A mil. We square?” “Ren’s one of us. The crew backs her. You’re just a wife. Stay in your lane.” Ravenna’s lip curls. “A million? For that broke little bitch? Trash always thinks they’re worth more than they are.” I tear the check in half. Then in quarters. I drop the pieces on Lucas’s shoes. A million dollars. For the only blood niece of the Mercer Dynasty. The oldest crime family in Europe. The ones who hold his father by the throat in three different markets. You stupid boy. You have no idea what you just bought. The whiskey glass hits the floor. Crystal everywhere. “Lucas. Lucas. Is this bitch trying to put me down?” Sal Romano steps up first. Sicilian. Runs the laundering through the Boston galleries. He looks at me the way you look at a dog about to get put down. “Vivian. She didn’t mean it. Let it go.” The rest of the crew falls in behind him. Ravenna’s chin lifts. “You know what? Throw me on the Labyrinth too. Let the old guys have a turn. That what you want, sweetheart?” Lucas’s eyes go black. “Shut the fuck up.” Then he turns to me. Stone face. “That’s just how Ren is. She doesn’t think before she talks. She’ll say sorry. End of story.” I drop to my knees next to Lily. Her cheek is ice under my hand. She used to slip Hershey’s Kisses into my coat pocket and pretend she didn’t. She was eighteen. I told Adrian she was ready. I told him. My tears land on her bruised throat. These ones aren’t for the recording. I shake my head. “She killed her. Sorry doesn’t cover it. She pays. In blood.” Lucas laughs. Tired. “She typed a few words on a website. The buyers killed your niece. Quit aiming at the wrong person.” My nails go through my skin. “Wrong person? She posted her. She’s got five million in her account. She is the killer.” Crack. His slap whips my head sideways. Copper floods my mouth. I run my tongue along my back molar. Still there. “I said shut your mouth. Nobody talks about Ren like that. Nobody.” Ravenna laughs. Loops her arm through his. “Aw, babe. She just wants a bigger cut. Right, Vivian? Daddy here’s loaded. We can toss extra on the dead kid too.” She crouches. Lifts my chin with one finger. “Honestly? Bet your niece was a climber. The men who had her last night? Way out of her league.” Lucas sighs like I’m exhausting him. Crouches in front of me. “Vivian. Stop. Two million. We done?” I look at his face. The face I crossed an ocean for. The face I buried the Mercer name to marry. Five years ago I walked into this house with a fake last name and one job: figure out if the Langston Syndicate had rotted enough to take. The answer came in a long time ago. But Lily. Lily was never on the board. I pull off my wedding ring. Throw it. It bounces off his lapel. “We’re done, Lucas. You’ll be hearing from my family.”
I turn for the door. Lucas’s voice locks me in place. “Walk out that door, Vivian. They bury Lily in three different states.” I turn back. He’s already pulled the sheet off her. He’s holding a paring knife. He drives it into her chest. Right through the sternum. I scream. I throw myself at her. He kicks me off like a stray. Ravenna loops her arms around his neck. Presses up against his back. “That’s my man. You know how to play.” My hands shake. I make my voice small. “Lucas. Just let me take her. Don’t touch her again.” He smiles. Like he’s brought me to heel. “Vivian. We’re not getting divorced. And you don’t open your mouth outside this house. Not to anyone. Not your brother, not a priest, nobody. This stays in the Family.” The first half lands wrong with Ravenna. Her face twists. She rips the knife out of his hand. Drags the tip across Lily’s cheek, slow. “Such a pretty face. Needs a little something extra, doesn’t it?” “Please.” My voice tears open. “Lucas. For what we had. Don’t let her touch my niece.” He looks away from me. Ravenna giggles. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re burning her after this. Ash doesn’t care what’s carved into it.” She thinks for a beat. Her face lights up. She presses the blade in. W-H-O-R-E. One letter at a time. Across Lily’s cheek. Sal Romano slow-claps. “Damn, Ren. You got a real artist’s hand.” Ravenna grins. Tosses the knife back to Lucas. “Your turn, babe. Show us what Don Langston’s golden boy can do. Use this little piece of trash as your canvas.” “NO—” I lunge for Lily. The lunge isn’t a performance. The lunge is the only honest thing I’ve done tonight. Lucas stomps down on my shoulder. The bone goes. He pulls his belt out of the loops and lashes my wrists to the iron rack above me. “Lucas. Please. Please don’t—” He doesn’t look at me. He walks to Lily. The crew starts cheering. Whistling. Lucas glances at the bruises blooming across Lily’s chest. His mouth curls in disgust—at her, like she’s the dirty thing in this room—and he flips her over. Then he starts cutting. Long, sure strokes. He’s done this before. I scream until my throat shreds. I beg him to stop. Ravenna grabs a dirty napkin off the table and shoves it in my mouth. When he’s finished, the whole room claps. Whatever was left of me—whatever still loved this man, whatever still believed his lies—dies in that second. He swaggers over. Cuts the belt off my wrists. “Vivian. Ren and the crew forgave you. Don’t pull a stunt like that again. You hear me?” He leans in to kiss me. I slap him so hard his head whips sideways. “You’re not a man.” His jaw locks. For a second I think he’s going to hit me back. Then he sees my face—white, dead-white—and stops himself. He presses his lips to my forehead instead. Whispers, low, only for me: “Vivian. I’m protecting you.” My mouth pulls into a cold smile. Say it again. Say it on tape. Five years I’ve eaten this. The first time Ravenna met me, she “accidentally” hit me with her Maserati. Broke my leg in two places. I spent three months in a cast. He spent three months with her in the south of France. I let it happen. She needed to think I was harmless. Wedding night, she called him. He picked up. I sat in the bridal suite till sunrise. I let it happen. He needed to think he was the smart one. Same line every time: Ren’s a hothead. Keep her happy. I’m protecting you. Every time, I smiled and forgave. Every time, I sent the recording. But Lily. I didn’t plan for Lily. “I don’t need your protection anymore, Lucas. We’re done. You’ll be hearing from my family.”
Lucas sways. His voice cracks at the edges. “Vivian. We’re not splitting. I told you I’d protect you for life.” I move for the door. He locks me against his chest. I claw at him. I bite. Then—a sharp pinch at my neck. The room tilts. My knees give. Lucas’s lips at my ear, soft, almost tender. “Sleep it off, baby. Tomorrow nothing’s changed.” I come back slow. Something pulls me out of the dark. Voices. Two of them. Right outside the bedroom door. “Lucas. Vivian’s still in there.” “That’s the point, Ren.” “Mmm. Fucking your wife’s sister with her three feet away? That’s what gets you off?” I keep my eyes closed. The drug slowed me down. It didn’t shut me off. The door slams open. Lucas walks in with Ravenna in his arms. Her dress already shoved up. His shirt half-open. I don’t move. I don’t breathe wrong. I don’t twitch. Lucas glances at me. Sees a corpse on the bed. Smirks. “Out cold. Good.” He drops Ravenna on the foot of the bed. My bed. Our bed. She laughs, climbs onto her knees, reaches for his belt. “Mmm. Don Langston’s golden boy. Show me what you got.” He grabs her by the throat. Not hard. Lazy. Like he owns the air she breathes. “Shut up and turn around.” “Yes, papi.” The mattress dips. The buckle of his belt hits the floor. I count my breaths. One. Two. Then his voice—low, mean, not for her, for me: “You think I don’t know you’re awake, Vivian?” My lungs stop. Keep talking, Lucas. “Yeah. Thought so. Keep pretending, baby. Watch how a real woman takes it.” Ravenna giggles. “Oh, you’re cruel. Tell her again.” “Tell her yourself, Ren.” “Vivian. Vivian, honey. He’s never fucked you like this, has he?” Lucas grabs a fistful of her hair. Yanks her head back hard. “Now don’t talk to her. Talk to me.” “Mmm—yes—” The bed slams against the wall. Once. Twice. I press my palm flat against the mattress under the sheet. My nails go through my own skin. Blood smears under me. Five years of marriage. I’m protecting you. This is what he was protecting. When he finishes, he doesn’t pull out gentle. He shoves her off and lights a cigarette right there on the bed. Ravenna stretches. Bare feet pad to my side of the mattress. She leans down. So close her breath hits my eyelashes. “Sweet dreams, Mrs. Langston.” Lucas exhales smoke at the ceiling. “Let’s go. She’s seen enough.” The door clicks shut. I open my eyes. I roll off the bed and throw up on the floor until there’s nothing left but acid. I sit on the floor in the puddle of my own vomit and shake. The recording was clean. My body doesn’t care. I crawl to the door. Locked from the outside. Then—a knock. Soft. Careful. “Mrs. Langston? Are you awake? It’s Marta. Let me get you out.” The housekeeper. Old Italian woman. She’s been with the Langstons since Lucas was a boy. Which means she answers to Don Langston. Not to me. I get up anyway. If they want to set me up, let them. “Marta. Yes.” The lock clicks. The door cracks open. She’s pale. Her hands shake worse than mine. “Quickly, ma’am. He smashed your phone. Take mine. Call your family. Now.” I take the phone. I follow her through three corridors, past the gun room, past the kitchen. I let my thumb hover over the screen. Slow. Stupid. The way a panicked wife would. “Funny. Ren said you’d run.” Lucas. Behind us. Cold as a grave. Marta drops to her knees so fast her bones crack on the marble. “Mr. Langston—I’m sorry, she made me, she said she was going to put Miss Volkov on the Labyrinth, she begged me for my phone to post the listing—I tried to stop her—” Lucas’s eyes go black. He grabs my jaw. Hard. Fingernails breaking skin. “You were going to put Ren on the Labyrinth? Over a joke?” “You think I’d do that. I’m not her, Lucas. I don’t sell people.” He snatches the phone from my hand. Scrolls. Then he flips the screen at me and backhands me at the same time. Crack. My head snaps. Copper floods my mouth again. “Stop lying. What the fuck is THIS.” I look at the screen. A live listing on the Labyrinth. Item: female, mid-twenties, blonde, Eastern European. Photo: Ravenna Volkov. Starting bid: five hundred thousand. Posted twenty minutes ago. From this phone.
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