Page 79 of Possessive Vows

When I turn before she expects me to, she pins alarmed eyes on mine in the rearview mirror.

“Nico Russo requested we stagger our arrival, so we will detour for about ten minutes,” I say.

She nods. Her trust floors me.

I keep my attention on the road, because even though my men and two more teams of Giorgio’s soldiers flank and follow us, the streets are a madhouse. Even the interstate teems with crazy drivers.

When unexpected construction forces me to detour, my senses sharpen and hackles rise.

My unease grows when blockades funnel us down to one lane.

The sound of impact and metal crunching pulls my attention to the car behind me. Sergei’s face flashes into focus as he yanks the wheel to the side, attempting to direct his SUV away from ours as the truck behind him pushes him forward.

I swerve to the right and hit the gas, but it’s too late. He clips our bumper. We spin.

The side of the car slams against the concrete barrier of the overpass. Blinding pain cracks through my skull as I break my side window with my head.

The world goes in and out of focus. Splintered smudges flip through my vision.

Maksim cries in the rearview mirror. Camilla leans over him and reaches into Zoya’s seat. Blood trails down her temple.

Light streaks across my eyes. Broad shoulders drop into view and masculine arms reach for Artur.

My body won’t move.

Camilla’s head and shoulders appear out of nowhere. She bites the man’s hand so hard blood gushes onto Artur.

My numbness ends on a terrible wave of agony, but my arms respond as though trapped in sludge.

The man curses and grabs Camilla by the hair. She crawls over the center console, clamping down on her bite, and knocks Artur’s hands away as the stranger drags her out of the car.

When she kicks the door shut behind her despite landing hard on her hip, I know she means to sacrifice herself for my eldest.

Desperate fury floods my veins. With my door against the barricade, I can’t exit from my side of the vehicle, so I unbuckle and wriggle across the car, cursing my bulk in the tiny space, and swat Artur’s grappling hands away until his words register. Spoken in our native language in a high, terrified voice, his begging shreds my heart.

“Da,don’t go! I’m scared and not ready. You can’t leave. Stay here. Please.”

I encompass his hands in mine and grab his chin.

“No one is ready,moy syn, but we must be brave. Climb into the back. Unbuckle your siblings. Hide them on the floor. Protect them, Artur. I will protect you, da?”

Every passing millisecond feels like a millennium asmoya so´lnyshkafaces the threat alone. It pains me to leave my children, but I cannot stay when Camilla needs me.

Pulled out of his spiral with clear instructions, my son curls his hands into fists and nods. I reach for the door.

A body slams against it. The man leaves a streak of red as he slides down the outside of the car. Maksim’s screams rise in pitch.

Camilla staggers backward, falls to her knees, and vomits. Blood covers the knife in her hand.

I meet Feliks’s eyes as he steps from the back hatch of a black SUV along with two other men.

My heart and soul screams for Camilla to look behind her. I yank on the door handle and shove with my shoulder. The corpse blocks the door. Artur screams for her and lends his strength.

Camilla looks up in shock, meets Artur’s gaze, then follows it over her shoulder.

I shove again.

The body tumbles away and the door swings wide open.

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