Page 46 of Twisted Vows

Her eyes flash, and she takes another step toward me, her defiance blazing. “Fragile? You’re deflecting because you can’t admit I’m right.”

“Right?” I scoff, the word heavy with disbelief. “You’ve made up your mind without knowing a damn thing.”

She steps closer, her chin tilting up, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “Then tell me, Maxsim. Where were you?”

Her challenge hangs between us, sharp and unyielding.

I let the silence stretch, watching her, waiting. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.

I cross the room slowly, each step deliberate, until I’m standing directly in front of her. “You want to know where I was?” I say, my voice low, controlled. “I was in the city. Washing the blood of Cartel soldiers off my hands.”

Her bravado falters. Just for a second, but I see it—the flicker of something softer beneath the anger.

“Blood?” she asks, the word barely above a whisper.

I nod, the images flashing behind my eyes as if burned into my mind. “They ambushed us. Three men, heavily armed, waiting just outside our office. They weren’t amateurs.”

Her arms fall to her sides, her earlier bravado faltering. I press on, the words coming out clipped, each one laced with the weight of the night.

“They knew the layout—knew exactly where to wait. But they underestimated us. Anton spotted them just in time. The first man went down before he could fire a shot.”

I pause, the memory playing out in vivid, brutal detail. The muffled grunt of the Cartel soldier as Anton’s knife found his throat. The way his body crumpled silently to the pavement. The other two weren’t as easy.

“The second man got off a shot,” I say, my hand tightening around the glass. “It grazed Vlad’s shoulder. Just a flesh wound, but it was close. Too close.”

I don’t tell her about the split second when I thought Anton was gone. How the sound of the shot had rung in my ears, louder than it should have been.

“The third man…” I trail off, letting the weight of the words fill the space. “He was different. Military training, maybe. He didn’t hesitate—used one of his own men as a shield. But he wasn’t quick enough.”

I remember the way the blood sprayed across the sidewalk, the sound of his body hitting the ground. The adrenaline had been a roar in my ears, drowning out everything else.

The room’s silence presses down like a weight. Ari’s anger has shifted into something quieter, more uncertain.

“Casualties?” she asks, her voice softer now.

I shake my head. “None on our side. But barely.”

Her eyes search mine with concern. Tonight wasn’t just a skirmish. It was a warning. “They weren’t there to win,” I say, more to myself than to her. “They were there to send a message.”

Ari tilts her head, her gaze sharp again. “What message?”

“That they know where to hit us,” I reply, my tone cold. “And that they’re not afraid to escalate.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. “You should’ve called me,” she says finally, her voice quiet but steady.

“Would it have changed anything?” I counter, my eyes locking onto hers. “Would you feel better knowing someone wants us dead?”

Her silence is answer enough.

I take her hand and clasp our fingers together. “This is the world we live in, Ari. Threats don’t disappear just because you see them coming. They only get closer.”

She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, her jaw tightening. “You better not get yourself killed, Maxsim.”

Surprised by the vehemence behind her words, I press our clasped hands against my chest. “Fallen in love me with, already?”

“Hardly.” Her mouth twitches. “I just don’t want to end up with a second husband who’s bald and humorless.”

I nod slowly. “Good to know.” My tone is light, almost casual. “Dinner smells good. We could keep arguing, or we could eat. Your choice.”

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