Page 75 of Twisted Vows

Maxsim’s gaze hardens, his voice razor-sharp. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Anton and Pasha appear, and Maxsim nods. “Get me answers.”

“Right away,” Anton mutters as he and Pasha haul the man away. I watch the dogs sit beside my husband and realize one thing with absolute certainty: the storm isn’t coming. It’s already here.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Maxsim

The firelight flickers across the room, chasing shadows up the paneled walls. The warmth doesn’t reach me. I sit in the leather armchair, staring at the glass of vodka in my hand. I’ve barely taken a sip, though the bite of it lingers on my tongue.

I can still hear the echoes of the storm outside, but it’s not enough to drown out the memory of today.

Nikolai.

I tighten my grip on the glass, its weight grounding me as my mind spirals. My cousin. One of my closest lieutenants. My… mistake.

The betrayal cuts deeper than I’ll admit, even to myself. I trusted him, and it meant nothing. I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair, my fingers brushing the bruise near my temple. The pain is sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of how close I came to losing her.

Twice.

I see her face from earlier today—defiant, angry, and so damn alive. And then I see what could have been: her crumpled on the ground, rain pooling around her, lifeless.

I slam the glass down on the table harder than I mean to. The sharp clink echoes in the room, but it doesn’t shake the image from my mind.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. The fire pops in the hearth, a sound that should be comforting but isn’t.

This is on me. Nikolai, the ambush, the cracks in my organization—it all leads back to me.

I replay every moment, every sign I ignored. Nikolai’s hesitation during the ambush. His questions about the shipments. The way he avoided my eyes when I called him out weeks ago.

The truth gnaws at me: I didn’t want to see it. I let myself believe that loyalty could still mean something in this life. That family could still mean something.

I’ve built my life on control, on never leaving anything to chance. But lately, everything feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

And then there’s her.

Ari disrupts everything. She challenges me, defies me, forces me to confront parts of myself I thought I’d buried long ago. She makes me weak.

But when I think about how she stood her ground today, even with Nikolai pointing a gun at her, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

I don’t know what’s worse—that she makes me lose control… or that I don’t want it back.

The study door creaks open, pulling me from my thoughts. I don’t have to look up to know it’s her.

“Could’ve knocked,” I say dryly, keeping my gaze fixed on the fire.

“I figured you wouldn’t answer,” she replies. Her voice is light, but there’s an edge to it.

I glance up, and the sight of her stops me. She’s in one of my sweatshirts. It hangs down to her knees, making her look fragile and unshakable.

She crosses the room slowly, her eyes scanning me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You look like hell,” she says, perching on the arm of my chair.

I let out a short laugh, dry and humorless. “Thank you. Just what I needed to hear.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re welcome.”

Her presence fills the room in a way the fire never could. I should send her away, tell her I need space. But I don’t.

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