Page 49 of Possessive Vows

A burly man with golden-blond hair, striking blue eyes, and vaguely familiar features meets my stare as he turns into an alley and glances over his shoulder, and although the connection lasts for less than half a second, I know who he is.

Feliks Volkov.

Dimitri’s brother. The man behind my attack.

He beat and raped me along with seven other men.

My mind retreats further into itself until only basic shapes and garbled sounds reach me, but deep within the recesses of my soul, I scream and cry at the injustice.

He was right there. Free and healthy. Sharing the same air. Walking the same street.

He has a face now. I know what he looks and sounds like. My fear slowly buckles under the weight of my growing fury.

I know he can still hurt me, but with Dimitri by my side, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.

If only my body would get the memo.

Chapter 12

Dimitri Volkov

Concern flows through meas Camilla stares blankly out the window. I don’t know what sent her on a mental vacation, but by the utter lack of awareness and coordination in her body language, she’s no longer in the car with me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and veer just in time to avoid an aggressive cab driver.

Warzones are easier to navigate than New York City streets. I sneer at the reckless driver and ignore his single digit wave.

Glancing between my phone screen and the road, I drive as I read Yerik’s message.

He followed the second man to a nearby hideout and captured him and a buddy. Another of the two-man teams I brought from Russia with me is hot on another lead’s tail. I instruct the third team to converge on Yerik’s location and ensure a secure perimeter.

I will keep my promise to Camilla. She will confirm whether the assholes hurt her or not, but only after I make sure it is safe. My men will enjoy giving them hell while they wait for us.

Tires squeal. I look up and slam on the brakes, but I’m not fast enough. Metal crunches and the car jerks to a stop as my front bumper crumples against the back of the vehicle that pulled out in front of us. I snarl, press the brake, and shift into reverse.

Pain slices up my neck as Camilla grabs my shoulder, her nails catching the flesh above my collar.

“Don’t get out. Drive away.” The panic in her voice clenches my stomach, but when I glance in the rearview mirror, she scans the area outside the car with clear eyes. She’s not trapped in a flashback like when I tried to tend to her bruises. “Go.Now,” she demands.

I shift the vehicle into drive and peel away, narrowly missing the raging driver as they step out of their car.

When her grip tightens on my shoulder and she continues searching out the windows, I place my hand over hers and rub my thumb along the outside of her fist, silently urging her to calm as I maneuver through the busy streets.

“It was him,” she half gasps, half growls.

“The car accident was my fault, Camilla. I was careless with your safety and—”

“No, Dimitri.” She pins her stare on my reflection in the rearview mirror. “He was there. I heard him. On the sidewalk.” Her grip tightens on my shoulder, pinching my muscle and digging her nails through the layers of fabric. “I saw him. Your brother. Feliks. He wasthere.”

When her breathing becomes more erratic, I place both hands on the wheel and turn toward the nearest place of safety—the townhouse her brother gifted her—and even though only a few minutes pass before I parallel park in front of her new home, she shakes from head to toe when I turn off the ignition.

After double checking the area, I peel her fingers off my coat, exit the vehicle, and open her door. She grabs my hand and rushes toward the gate, slamming the car door behind her, and fumbles so hard she punches the incorrect code into the gate’s console.

Her soft expletive triples my need to comfort her. She types in the proper password and shoulders open the gate before hauling me up the stairs toward the front door.

The key slips from her trembling fingers and clatters to the steps. I scoop them up, unlock the front door, and guide her into the house before closing the door and stepping around her, shielding her with my body from potential dangers hidden within the house.

She digs her nails into my hand and rests her forehead on my back. Her shuddering breaths warn of tears, but she’s too stubborn to cry.

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