Wicked lowers Papa to the ground. “You wouldn’t believe me, so I needed to show you.”

“Show me what?” I snap, looking around the bodies on the ground, mainly Cosa Nostra.

Mik chuckles, stepping forward and dodging the bodies spilled over the floor. “You’re right, this isn’t our war, but—” He leans down, his fist wrapping around my hair and tugging me back. “You would have made a great wife, had this been real fun.”

My blood turns cold and I spin around, face-to-face with the monster I never asked for. “What?” Confusion from all sides drowns me.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Mikhail?” Papa spits, and I’ve never seen him lose his cool quite like he is. His eyes fly over Mik and land on his men. Mikhail’s father died when he was a child, so the only person who runs the Bratva’s crazy ship is him.

I turn back to Wicked, swallowing the pain in my throat. He releases Papa, dropping him back to the chair he was sitting on. When his eyes meet mine, all of the pain he has hidden from me knocks me off-balance. “I was put in your life to bring you to Skully, Ruby. Poppy and I were placed in a foster home, one I didn’t know were members of the Bratva—” His eyes fly over his shoulder, his jaw tensing when they’re on Mik, before coming back to me. “Skully ordered me to kill the family we were with. I did. I had to and didn’t have any choices when it came to him, or he’d hurt Poppy.” Wicked falls back against the table, crossing his ankles at his feet, looking over his shoulder and nudging his head at Val, who slowly makes his way to me. “When I killed them, it drew the attention of your papa. That’s why he took me in. Everything was a need-to-know basis. Your papa has been feeding you to Skully since you were a kid. I saw you once, drugged out and dragged through the asylum, and I saw him.”

I blink past the tears. This can’t be true. “Saw who?”

Wicked’s eyes shift to Papa. “Him.”

Pain grips my heart as my eyes fall on Papa. “What? No…”

“You know I wouldn’t, principessa.” Papa’s voice breaks at the end. “He’s just trying to save his ass because he killed your mother.”

I look back at Wicked, who does nothing to interrupt Papa’s rambling.

Wicked snickers, his jaw clenching. “Kind of hoped you’d fucking believe me, Rubs.”

“Well—” Mik steps up beside me, handing me his phone. “Good thing I’ve got footage.”

Wicked’s eyes narrow on Mik. “What happened to not having any proof, asshole?”