Page 77 of Twisted Vows

Her laughter is soft but genuine, and for a moment, the weight on my chest feels lighter.

She stands, brushing past me as she heads toward the door. “Don’t stay up all night, Max.”

“I will be up soon,” I mutter.

After she disappears into the hallway, I realize one thing: Alexey might be right about a lot of things. But not about her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ari

The rain has stopped, but the silence it leaves behind feels louder than the storm ever did. The bedroom is dark, save for the faint glow of the fire in the sitting area.

The shadows it cast dance along the walls, stretching and twisting like the thoughts that won’t leave me alone. I sit cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in one of Maxsim’s oversized sweaters, the sleeves too long for my arms. The scent of him—woodsmoke and something faintly sharp, like cedar—lingers in the fabric.

I should feel comforted by it. Instead, it feels like a weight.

Nikolai’s face flashes in my mind—his anger, the way his voice cracked when he shouted that none of this was a choice. That he had no way out.

He’s wrong. We all have choices. Don’t we?

The door creaks open and Maxsim steps inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His white shirt is untucked, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, and the top buttons undone. His hair is slightly mussed, his face shadowed by exhaustion and something heavier.

For a man who usually looks like he was carved from stone, he seems… frayed.

“You’re still awake,” he says, his voice low.

I turn back to the fire. “So are you.”

He doesn’t answer. I hear the soft scrape of the door closing as the weight of him settles in the room, but he doesn’t come closer.

“You shouldn’t let what Nikolai said get to you.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“You think that’s what’s bothering me?” His tone is sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I glance at him. He’s standing near the dresser, one hand gripping the edge like he’s trying to anchor himself. His jaw is tight, his eyes shadowed.

“I almost lost you today,” he says finally, his voice rough. “Twice.”

I turn fully to face him, pulling my knees to my chest. “I’m still here, Max.”

“Because I got there in time,” he growls, pushing off the dresser and striding to the edge of the bed. His movements are sharp, almost restless. “If I hadn’t—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand, Ari. Every moment I didn’t know where you were—it was like—” He exhales sharply, dragging his palm over his mouth. “It was like watching a bomb tick down, and I couldn’t stop it.”

His words tighten something in my chest. I want to tell him I’m fine, that I can take care of myself, but I bite my tongue. Because for once, I don’t think he needs my defiance.

“I’m not fragile, Max,” I say instead, my voice quieter now. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his eyes meeting mine. “Don’t I?”

The space between us feels impossibly heavy. He’s standing so close now, his hands braced on the footboard, but it’s like there’s a chasm between us.

“I told you once I wasn’t capable of love,” he says suddenly, his voice low and ragged. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve spent my entire life shutting that part of me off. And now…” He shakes his head, hisknuckles whitening against the wood. “Now, all I can think about is what it would feel like not to have you in my life.”

I blink, the breath catching in my throat. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn’t it.

“Max,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I can’t afford this,” he says, his voice sharper now. “This weakness. This—” He gestures vaguely, as if the word itself is too dangerous to say.

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