Page 42 of Brutal Vows

What the hell is going on?

Twenty-Two

My breath hitches painfullyin my chest, adrenaline pumping through my veins like an insidious toxin. He’s here. The man I have fervently hoped to never lay eyes on again in this god-forsaken life of mine. But here he was, standing right in front of me, a detached look in his eyes. Cold perspiration prickles along the back of my neck, and I clench my trembling fists in my lap.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

I’m not there. I’m not there.

Breathe in. Breath out.

My mind stutters still for one agonizing moment before it is hammered back into merciless reality. Another surge of bile creeps up my throat. My pulse thunders loud and clear, echoing off the hollow walls of my skull. Everything around me starts to blur, plunging me into a whirlpool of chaotic colors and shapes. All except his menacing figure that remains as a clear violation to my already impaired sanity.

I need to get out. Now.

Every instinct screams at me to bolt, but my body refuses to obey. I stand rooted to the spot like prey ensnaredby a predator’s gaze, trapped in this perverse gaze that cools with sick satisfaction. I can hear the pathetic whimpers caught in the back of my throat—a telltale sign of weakness that surely amuses him further.

“Gia.” The monster speaks, his tone deceptively gentle. Soothing. I won’t fall for it. I know what he is capable of. What his men are capable of doing at his orders.

My breath hitches in my throat as flashbacks rattle through me like an untamed tornado tearing through the flimsy structure of my sanity. His ice-cold eyes stare down at me, his gaze like iron chains… I can feel his presence even from here, a wild beast within the cage of carefully cultivated social propriety.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

Something warm and heavy bands around me, and I scream, fighting to get away. To run. I need to run.

“Someone better tell me what the hell is going on right now!”

On instinct, my body stills. A whimper falls from my lips, and I curl in on myself in an attempt to appear smaller.

“Jesus,” someone whispers, their voice smooth and rich, reminiscent of honey infused with spice.Vitaly. “I’ve got you,mia piccola cerva. Breathe for me.”

His voice is a steady anchor as he guides the rhythm of breath, counting out in fours with a gentle assurance. Inhale deeply for four beats. Hold that breath for four. Exhale slowly for four. Pause in stillness for another four.

He repeats this soothing mantra until the rhythm of my breath finds its natural cadence and the frantic, desperate gasps for air subside. The tightness in my chest begins to ease, and a calmness settles over me as the suffocating urgency dissolves, leaving me grounded and steady.

“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is goingon?” Liam’s question isn’t as loud as before, his voice slightly softer but still firm. Silence falls over the room, but I don’t move from where my head is buried in Vitali’s warm, muscular chest.

What has my life come to that I am seeking comfort from the man who kidnapped me and is forcing me to marry him? A therapist would have a field day with my thoughts right now.

“I’ve never met Miss Nardoni in person.” Tomas’s voice causes me to shrink further into Vitali. “But she was a guest of my men several years ago. She was about fifteen if I am not mistaken.”

“A guest?” Vitali growls, the words vibrating through his chest so hard I can feel it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means—” Tomas takes a deep breath. “—that her father stepped outside his territory here and needed some incentive to get back in his lane.”

“So, you took his daughter?” Ava’s voice is laced with disbelief, her eyes widening at the audacity of the head of the east coast Bratva to snatch an innocent girl as a pawn in his dangerous game. It’s a ruthless move, yet not entirely unexpected in a world where most mafia families are known to employ such merciless tactics to get what they want. The room seems to tense around them, the weight of unspoken rules and cold strategies hanging heavily in the air. Tomas is not the only person to do exactly what he did.

“I instructed my men not to harm her.” The casualness of his tone pisses me off. As does the blatant lie. “They assured me she wasn’t.”

“Bullshit,” I murmur, the words barely audible, slipping into the air like a secret. Vitali’s strong arms gently roll me away from his chest. He peers down at me, his eyes etched with deep concern.

“What do you mean?” he asks softly in Italian, his voice a soothing melody. I shake my head, attempting to brush off the question, but he doesn’t let me escape. Instead, he carefully takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to meet his steady gaze. “Tell me what you mean, Gia,” he insists, his voice gentle.

Swallowing back the dark memories that threaten to engulf me, I take a long, deliberate breath, releasing it slowly, as if exhaling a storm. “His men beat me. Mocked me. Tormented me,” I whisper, my voice quivering with shame, like a fragile leaf in the wind. “I still carry the scars,” I add, the words heavy with the weight of past pain.

“They did what?” Tomas’s voice drips with venom, causing me to snap my head in his direction. His eyes blaze with intensity, and his jaw is clenched tightly. The air around us is charged with his fury, sending a shiver down my spine. ‘Show me.”

The Bratva king speaks Italian. That is somewhat of a surprise.

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