Page 31 of Brutal Vows

“I’ll send her to Vegas to be with Vanya,” Adrian informs him. “She’ll have our best guards. My home is a fortress, and my men will protect her.”

“Thank you.” The gratitude in Kenzo’s voice is nearly breathless, and his gaze lingers for several minutes before he turns back to the business at hand.

“Well—” Adrian crosses his arms against his chest and raises an expectant brow. “What is next,brat?”

A spark of excitement ignites within me, flickeringinto a flame that sends shivers of anticipation coursing through my veins as I begin to set the first part of our plan into motion. The thought of what is about to unfold fills me with a twisted pleasure, like a predator savoring the hunt. Unfortunately, my little deer won’t share in this dark thrill; her experience will be quite different. Yet, the resistance she will inevitably mount will make the entire ordeal all the more exhilarating. The very idea of wielding my belt to mete out punishment again has my mouth watering, the anticipation almost palpable in the air.

“Next—” I lick my lips and smirk. “I’m getting married.”

Sixteen

“I’m not goingto marry you.” I might as well get this right out in the open because the determined way he is carrying my suitcase from the room says something different. “Go ahead and toss me to the wolves now. It isn’t happening.”

Vitali doesn’t respond. The infuriating man simply snags my hand and drags me along behind him. The penthouse is quiet, and I don’t hear anyone else moving around.

“Where is everyone?” It isn’t that the penthouse is normally bustling with activity or anything, but there are usually several guards posted at the entrance to the elevator, and the house staff, including the chef, can usually be heard milling about the kitchen.

“Evaline is on her way to stay with Vanya in Vegas for a little while,” Vitali grunts as if giving me this small tidbit of information is painful for him. “Kenzo and Adrian are waiting for us at the airstrip with our men.”

Wait. Evaline is gone? Something akin to hurt twists in my chest at knowing she left without saying goodbye. It’s not like we’re besties, but I thought we were at least becoming friends. Apparently, I am wrongagain.

“Where are we going?”

Vitali huffs in frustration, pulling us into the elevator and pressing the button for the garage. “Seattle. We are meeting with Tomas Ivankov and his sons.”

A wave of dread crashes over me at the mere mention of the Boston Bratva leader’s name. It’s the same suffocating despair I’ve been trying to bury deep within since I first heard whispers of contacting him. They have no idea what he commanded his men to do to me.

“I thought he was in Boston,” I murmur, my voice barely audible as tears threaten to spill from my eyes at the mere thought of confronting him again. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I trail behind Vitali toward one of the sleek, black Escalades gleaming under the muted garage lights. Dario, stands waiting for us, a silent sentinel by the vehicle.

“Normally.” Vitali helps into the backseat, motioning for me to slide over. Apparently he is joining me back here. Dario shuts the door when we are settled and stows my suitcase in the trunk along with Vitali’s. “But we are going to need the help of his protégé Matthias Dashkov and the other families we are allied with. It is easier for him to travel to Seattle than for the other families to all travel to Boston. Safer as well.”

I hadn’t realized there were so many other mafia families operating in the Pacific Northwest. My father had always ensured that I learned about the mafias he held in high regard. These were the ones we considered allies, but the families he had me study were all based in Europe. I never delved into the families here in the States as we had very few alliances to draw upon domestically.

“Oh.” The word slips from my lips, as there’s nothing else to say without revealing too much. The prospect ofcoming face to face with the man who haunts my nightmares causes dread to race through me. Although I’ve never met him, his voice is etched in my memory. His henchmen made sure to remind me repeatedly of the horrors he ordered them to inflict upon me should my father refuse to cooperate. I was only sixteen at the time, sheltered but not completely naïve. Whatever innocence I possessed was shattered into a thousand pieces that day.

Vitali fixes a stare on me, his expression inscrutable—a mask I cannot decipher. But as soon as we start moving again, his phone rings, pulling him into the web of his future plans. A future he believes will culminate with me as his wife.

That is not going to happen. He would have to drag me down the aisle, kicking and screaming, for that wedding to take place. He could forge my signature, force his ring onto my finger, but I will not partake in any of it willingly.

It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the same airstrip we flew in on. The sun casts a warm glow over the tarmac as we approach. This time, the plane waiting for us is slightly larger than Vitali’s sleek aircraft. As we step inside, the difference becomes immediately apparent. Unlike Vitali’s opulent jet, with its plush seating and open, relaxed layout, this interior resembles a commercial flight, but the seats are arranged in rows that face one another, creating an intimate and sociable atmosphere. The soft hum of engines fills the cabin, and the scent of fresh upholstery mingles with the crisp air conditioning. Nearly every seat is taken save for a few in the back where Kenzo and Adrian are patiently waiting.

Without uttering a single word, Vitali guides me gently into the window seat, situating himself on the aisle seat, leaving an empty space between us. The cabin lights cast asoft glow, and I can feel the hum of the engines vibrating beneath my feet. Swallowing back the unease that churns within me, I fumble clumsily with the seatbelt, the metal buckle cool against my fingers, before leaning back into the cushioned seat and closing my eyes. The thought of flying makes my skin prickle with discomfort; it’s never been my preferred mode of travel.

Outside, the sky is a gradient of deepening twilight, and the soft murmur of passengers settling in fills the air. It’s late, nearly dinnertime, and the day has already been a whirlwind of activity. My mind races with the events that have unfolded, leaving me both exhausted and ravenously hungry. As the plane begins its ascent, the world outside shrinks away, and I am left in a cocoon of fatigue and anticipation.

“Welcome aboard,” the pilot’s smooth voice comes over the intercom. “We will be cruising at forty-one thousand feet. Feel free to move about the cabin once the seatbelt sign is off. The flight crew will be coming around shortly with dinner and drinks. The time in Seattle is currently two in the afternoon. We will be arriving there at approximately five in the evening local time. Winds are looking good, and we should experience very little turbulence. Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the plane to even out and the flight crew to begin serving dinner and drinks. The ambience in the plane is subdued, the voices of the men around me nothing more than whispers.

“Where are we meeting them?” Hiro questions, leaning forward from across the aisle.

“McDonough’s down on First Avenue,” Vitali tells him. “Liam Kavanaugh’s place.”

I don’t recognize the name. But then again, I didn’t expect I would, but I hate feeling out of the loop inconversations, even when I know I’m not meant to be a part of them.

“All the families will be there,” Dario assures everyone. “And all of them said they have our backs.”

The men all nod in agreement, their expressions full of excitement and caution.

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