Page 64 of Twisted Vows

I want to ask her what’s on her mind, but I don’t. Not because I don’t care—because I care too much. Whatever’s been bothering her, I need her to come to me willingly. Pulling answers from her never ends well.

My phone vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the screen, noting the brief message from Nikolai:Route cleared.

Good. At least he’s doing his job tonight.

The car slows as we approach a red light. Pasha murmurs something in Russian to Anton over the comms, his voice calm, but my instincts tighten. The city feels too quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes chaos.

“Ari.” My voice is low, barely cutting through the hum of the engine.

She glances at me, her green eyes sharp even in the dim light. “What?”

“Are you all right?”

She hesitates, then nods. But her fingers tighten around the clutch. She’s lying.

The light turns green, and the SUV surges forward. I glance out the window, scanning the streets. Everything seems normal, but I’ve learned not to trust the surface.

“Max,” she says suddenly, her voice tight.

I turn to her, noting the tension in her jaw.

She pulls her phone from her clutch, unlocking the screen, and holding it out. “This. Someone sent it during the fundraiser.”

I take the phone, my eyes narrowing as I read the message.Maxsim is hiding something from you. Are you sure you can trust him?

A slow burn ignites in my chest, anger simmering beneath the surface. My thumb hovers over the screen, but there’s no sender, no trail to follow. Of course there isn’t.

“When did this come?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

“Just before we left,” she replies, watching me carefully.

I hand the phone back, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “We’ll trace it.”

Her brow furrows. “And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, you trust me.”

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze lingers on mine, searching for something I can’t name. Before I can say more, Pasha’s voice cuts through the comms, sharp and urgent. “Hold on.”

The SUV swerves violently, and Ari’s hand grips my arm as the car jerks to the side. My body moves on instinct, pulling her close as the first shattering of glass explodes through the cabin.

“Down!” I bark, pushing her head low as bullets tear through the air.

The acrid smell of gunpowder, sharp and metallic, fills my nose, and the world narrows to the chaos outside. Shadows flicker in the rearview mirror—dark shapes moving inside a black van that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“They’re hitting us hard!” Pasha shouts from the front, his voice strained as he swerves again.

“Why the hell aren’t the windows reinforced?” I snap as the windows crack one at a time. My hand moves to the Glock beneath my jacket.

Pasha doesn’t answer. He’s too busy weaving through the chaos, the SUV lurching violently as he tries to create distance.

I twist, peering through the haze of smoke and glass. Another SUV crashes behind us, cutting off the van’s pursuit, and I spot Anton emerging, his weapon already firing.

Nikolai follows close behind, but something’s wrong. His movements are slower than usual, less precise.

He hesitates.

Just for a second. But in a fight, a second is all it takes.

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