Page 69 of Twisted Vows

I arch a brow. “About what?”

She sets the phone down, meeting my gaze. “How I can help you.”

The answer throws me off. I blink, trying to gauge whether she’s serious. “You want to help me?”

Her green eyes narrow, flashing with defiance. “You think I can’t?”

“No.” I shake my head, pushing off the chair to cross the space between us. “I think you can. That’s what worries me.”

She stands slowly, closing the distance until we’re eye to eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re too smart for your own good,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And too brave.”

The tension between us shifts but doesn’t disappear. She’s waiting for something—for me to explain what’s wrong.

“You’re concerned,” she says finally, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I laugh softly, bitterly. “Not for myself.”

Her expression flickers, surprise mingling with something softer. “Max—”

I reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re my wife,” I say, my voice rough. “And that makes you a target.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. We’re locked in this unspoken tension for a second, the air between us charged.

She breaks the silence with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been a target since the day I was born.” Her fingers rub at a spot of blood on my shirt. “I’m ready to change the narrative and do something about it.”

I grab her hands. My wife is both brave and determined. Two things that could quickly get her killed. “Ari—”

“Please don’t give me some speech about staying out of the way.” Her eyes search mine, and whatever she finds there seems to steady her. “Because we both know it won’t work.”

“You’re going to make my life very difficult, aren’t you?” I say, my tone dry but laced with something warmer.

She smirks. “That’s the plan.”

I shake my head, gesturing toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go see if Grigory has anything useful yet.” The next meeting’s about to start.”

She moves to follow, but I catch her hand, stopping her mid-step.

“Ari,” I say quietly, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. “You’re more than I expected. You know that, right?”

Her smirk falters, replaced by something softer, more uncertain. “Good,” she says after a moment. “Because you’re exactly what I expected.”

Her words are light, and I notice that my wife is transforming herself from pawn to queen.

***

The weight of responsibility presses down on the room as we enter. The study, usually a place of quiet strategy and reflection, now feels like a war room. The long mahogany table is strewn with Grigory’s reports, photographs, and maps, each one another piece of a puzzle no one wants to complete.

Alexey sits at the head of the table, the weight of his position asPakhanresting visibly on his broad shoulders. His sharp gaze scans the room, and the air feels charged, like a storm waiting to break.

To his left sits Yuri, his posture stiff, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the table. On Alexey’s right is Grigory, who leans back in his chair with an air of calculated nonchalance.

Ari takes a seat near the bookcase and crosses her legs. Alexey says nothing, and I give his wife full credit.

I pick up a bullet that we recovered and trace the jagged edge as I take a seat. The sharp edge catches the light, and I accept that there is a traitor in our ranks.

I clench the bullet in my palm until it bites into my skin, a small, sharp pain that grounds me. Family is supposed to be untouchable. Loyalty is what we live by what we die for. And yet, the cracks are there. I’ve seen them, felt them, ever since this cursed alliance was formed.

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