Page 89 of Twisted Vows

I stare at the dogs—massive, sleek, their dark eyes watching me with intelligence. They don’t bristle or growl. They wait. Do they recognize me as theirs before I have even spoken a word?

“I hope they don’t expect Russian commands.”

“Dmitri taught them English.” He strokes the head of the small dog. “This one is friendly and might want to become a lap dog.”

A slow smile tugs at my lips as I kneel, reaching out a hand. They both sniff my palm, then press their nose against my wrist in silent acknowledgment.

“My husband is determined to stay in my good graces.”

Pasha clears his throat. “I told you when you arrived that he wants you to be happy.”

I look up. “Yes, Pasha, you did.”

He shifts slightly as the corner of his mouth lifts. “They’ll follow your commands. They’re trained to be loyal. To protect.” He pauses. “If you don’t want both, I can take one back.”

I glance up at him, then at the dogs.

I scratch behind the ear of the second shepherd. “I’ll keep them both.”

“Good.” Pasha takes a step back. “The bigger one is Hades, and the smaller one is Persephone.”

Laughing, I remember when I first called my husband Hades. “Does that mean Maxsim named them?”

“I don’t think so. Dmitri usually gives the dogs their names based on personality.”

I stroke both of the dog’s head and smile. Hades stays still, his massive frame coiled like a loaded gun, studying me with quiet intelligence. The smaller but no less powerful Persephone leans into my touch immediately, a quiet huff of breath escaping her as if she’s already chosen me as hers. “Well, I think they are perfect.”

“Good.” He tips his head and then stalks back toward the house.

“Let me show you two around your new home.” I unlatch their leashes, and they flank me as I walk toward the far end of the garden.

Feeling calm, I remind myself to be grateful that the battle is over. The war, of course, will never end. That’s just part of our lives.

But my place in all of it…that’s a story that’s still being written.

A slow smile pulls at my lips as the dogs explore the gardens. For the first time in my life, I’m not just someone’s daughter. Or someone’s pawn.

I’m something else entirely.

And I can’t wait to see what that will be.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The fire in my office crackles low, casting flickering shadows against the dark-paneled walls. The scent of aged whiskey lingers, mingling with the faint traces of leather and smoke.

It’s the same space where I’ve made decisions that sealed fates with a nod, a signature, or a single pull of a trigger.

And tonight, I’m waiting for her.

The sound of light footsteps, deliberate and steady, tells me she’s approaching.

Finally.

The door swings open, and she steps inside, the soft glow of the fire catching her dark eyes. She wears black, a simple slip of a dress that clings to her like a caress, the hem brushing against her thighs as she moves. There’s no jewelry. No embellishments. Just her, sharp and certain, a woman who no longer plays the role she was given—but the one she’s chosen for herself.

She stops just inside the threshold, one hand still on the doorframe. “You summoned me,sposo?”

My lips twitch. “I don’t summon you,lyubov moya.” I stand, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the object that has been waiting for this moment. “I ask.”

---