Page 9 of Twisted Vows

I expect him to scold me, to deliver some cutting remark about my recklessness, but he surprises me.

“You’ve got that look in your eye,” he says, tilting his head slightly, studying me. “The one that says revenge was served.”

There’s something almost approving in his tone, which throws me off. Approval isn’t what I’m used to from him.Condescension, yes. Disapproval, definitely. But this? I’m not sure how to respond, so I fall back on what I do best—sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly. “But that’s my business, not yours.” I force myself to meet his gaze, though every nerve in my body screams for me to run. Maxsim has a way of looking at me like he sees straight through the cracks, straight to the rage and the fear.

His eyes narrow slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, not backing down. His gaze flickers over my face, lingering on the cut on my lip, and his smile fades.

I blink, caught off guard by the concern in his gaze. It’s not his typical arrogance—it feels different, more dangerous. I’m used to people seeing me as a tool, a pawn, something to be used and discarded.

He stares at the cut on my lip again and lifts a hand like he’s about to touch it, then thinks better of it, his fingers hovering just inches from my skin.

The air between us crackles, an unspoken challenge hanging heavy. “I should go.” I try to push past him, to put some distance between us, but he shifts so I can’t pass.

“What are you doing, Maxsim?” I ask, my voice sharper now, tinged with frustration. “I’m not up for one of our sparring matches.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s the last thing I’m interested in,” he says quietly, his soft tone sending a shiver down my spine.

I force myself to stand tall, to keep my expression cold and detached. He waits like he’s expecting me to say something, but when I don’t, he turns and strides down the hall. My chest is tight with a mix of emotions I don’t have the luxury to unravel.

When he disappears around the corner, I lean against the cool stone wall as the adrenaline begins to dissolve. The soundsof the party filter through the hallway—a reminder that the world outside is still spinning.

I slowly adjust the knife in my ring, a small but significant gesture that brings me back to reality.

The night’s events will have repercussions.

If I’m lucky, it will include a future far away from here.

CHAPTER FOUR

Judge. Jury. Executioner.

Maxsim

I stand in the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching. Ari’s scent lingers, making my pulse drum in my ears.

I should’ve stopped Gio before he laid his hands on her. The moment he danced her into a secluded corner, it was clear what his intentions were.

Fury simmers just below the surface, but it’s not just Gio’s smug face pushing me toward the edge. Another face flickers in my mind—one I couldn’t save. Her fierce eyes, the same fire as Ari’s, went cold far too soon. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.

It’s been years, but an invisible knife twists uncomfortably in my gut.

Is this a crack in my control?

Will the Mafia wild child finally accomplish what no other person has?

I force myself to breathe, but the image of Gio’s smug face keeps pushing me toward the edge. Every instinct screams to act, but there’s a voice in the back of my mind—one I’m trying hard to ignore—whispering about the consequences.

Just as I’m about to make a move, Alexey steps into the hallway. His footsteps are too controlled—exactly what I don’t need right now. He takes one look at me and steps directly into my path, blocking any forward momentum.

“Max,” he says, voice low and firm. It’s just enough to snap me out of the haze of anger.

No more words are needed. I know that look, that tone. It’s the same one he uses when dragging me back from the edge, stopping me from doing something that could burn everything to the ground.

The urge to shove past him and ignore his warning burns in my gut, but I don’t move. Alexey’s not someone you push aside—not unless you want a fight you’re not prepared to win.

He grips my shoulder, the pressure just enough to remind me who’s in charge. “You can’t start a war here. Not tonight. Not like this.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s no mistaking the steel underneath. “One misstep, and the alliance crumbles. One wrong move, and she could become collateral.”

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