blackmailed you?” I ask because surely her knowing all this information meant she was their prisoner.
But when she averts her gaze, it seems I am so fucking wrong.
“No,” she softly replies. “I was undercover. I wanted to gather all the information I could about his plans, the mafia, anything of use to you so you could strike and bring him down. You needed an inside man and I wanted to help. I was in a position to.
“Just as you thought sending Willow and Saint into Santo’s house was a good idea because they were meant to be there is the same reason I acted the way I did. No one would suspect me snooping around because I was Frank’s fiancée.
“It wouldn’t arouse any suspicion, and I could come to you when I had information. But everything got so messed up,” she confesses with a tremble.
Running a hand over my mouth, I take a moment because I’m dumbfounded.
She saw how successful Renata was at playing double agent, but Renata is now dead.
“I couldn’t tell you in the bathroom at your house because I didn’t know anything of use. I didn’t come that far just to give up. Even though I wanted to.”
“Oh, Ella,” I say, shaking my head. “I appreciate you doing that for me, but you should have told me.”
“You don’t think I know that now?” she cries, stubbornly wiping away her tears. “I just wanted to prove to you that I’m not some silly girl who needs rescuing. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. And it would have worked if—”
“If what?” I press when she pauses and gnaws on her bottom lip.
“The morning of the poker game, I argued with Frank,” she shares. “He threatened to keep me locked in our bedroom. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to warn you about Santo’s plans because I was afraid you’d give Santo the information he needed, and he’d have you killed.
“Santo saw how impulsive you are. He’s afraid of you, which is why he would have killed you if you fell for his ploy. He was going to drag it out, but he said your days were numbered. He said he and his family just needed the basics, and if you gave them that, they’d have killed you that night.”
That stupid, insignificant piece of shit.
“Renata was able to help Serg…I wanted to help too.”
“Renata is dead,” I blankly state, while the whites of Ella’s eyes show.
I appreciate her doing this, I truly do. But this could have been avoided if she trusted me. But then I realize, why would she? I haven’t given her reason to because I didn’t trust her.
I could have told her about our plans instead of sending her away because she’s right; even though she is far from being a damsel in distress, my first instinct is to protect her and not put her in harm’s way. We both tried so hard to protect the other, but in the end, we made more of a mess than doing good.
Miscommunication and the irrational urge to defend each other has caused so much pain. But peeling back the layers, I see this for what it is; we did what we did because our feelings for one another are irrational, so much so, we would do anything to keep the other safe.
Just like me leaving Russia, and Ella sacrificing herself—an absolute Shakespearian twist.
“What happened with Frank?” I press, but when she grips the railing behind her, I know sharing time is over.
I’ll give her the time because today was progress, but I will continue to push until she cracks. Now that I know what I do, I can only imagine what happened, how far she was goaded to have done what she did.
She’s not ready to tell me, and honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to hear her truths.
“I want them dead. All of them,” she whispers angrily. “Mila too.”
The Macrillos have wounded Ella, so much so that her stance on murder has now shifted. Only something heinous could have changed her mind.
“I know you want me to go to Ireland, but I want to be the one.” I watch with interest as she clarifies, “I want to be the one who kills Santo. You wanted revenge on those who hurt you…and now, so do I.”
My first instinct is to deny her. The thought of her going anywhere near Santo turns my stomach, but how can I deny her? She’s right. I stopped at nothing to