Page 135 of Mafia King's Broken Vow
Time crawls. Sunset casts long shadows while Pablo’s men grow restless, weapons ready. Aleksander still hasn’t moved, but I can see the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Still alive. Still a chance.
Pablo paces near the windows, occasionally stopping to check his watch or bark orders into a radio. The wait is clearly wearing on him as much as it is on me. His earlier composure frays at the edges, revealing the true nature beneath the polished exterior.
“Your Yakov is taking his time,” he says, irritation breaking through his practiced calm. “Maybe you’re not as important to him as I thought.”
I say nothing, but a small, desperate hope flares in my chest. Maybe Yakov won’t come alone. Maybe he’s smart enough to bring reinforcements, to approach with caution rather than emotion.
But I know better. I know the man who holds my heart. Know the lengths he’ll go to for those he considers his. And I am his, as completely as he is mine.
The sound of breaking glass from somewhere in the lodge shatters the tense silence. Pablo’s head whips toward the noise, eyes narrowing.
“Go,” he orders two of his men. “Check it.”
They disappear down the hallway, weapons raised. Seconds later, a muffled thud reaches us, then silence. No gunshots. No calls for backup. Nothing.
“Report,” Pablo barks into his radio. Static answers him.
A cold smile stretches across my face before I can stop it. “He’s here,” I whisper.
Pablo’s expression darkens. He crosses the room in three quick strides, hauling me up by my hair. The knife returns to my throat, pressing hard enough to draw blood this time.
“Your Bratva attack dog doesn’t understand the situation,” he hisses. “I said alone, unarmed. Now he’s changed the terms.”
Movement flickers in the shadows behind Pablo—a familiar silhouette. Relief and terror collide in my chest. Yakov is here, as I knew he would be. But he’s alone, facing impossible odds, with my life hanging by the thread of Pablo’s restraint.
Our eyes lock across the room, and in that fractured moment, everything else falls away. His gaze holds mine, fierce and determined, communicating without words.
I’m here. I’ve found you. Hold on.
No one else has seen him yet. Pablo is too focused on the door, on his radio, on pressing the knife against my skin. His remaining men scan sections of the lodge, weapons pointed in the wrong directions.
I need to buy Yakov time, to distract Pablo just enough for whatever plan is forming behind those calculating blue eyes I’ve come to love.
“Maybe he’s realized I’m not worth dying for,” I say, deliberately loud. “Maybe he’s finally thinking strategically instead of emotionally.”
Pablo’s grip on my hair tightens painfully. “Don’t test me, Doctor. When he arrives, you’ll watch him die. Then we’ll discuss your future with the cartel in great detail.”
But I barely hear his threats. My focus remains fixed on the shadow moving steadily closer, on the man who has become my everything approaching with death in his eyes.
For the first time since my capture, I feel something beyond fear.
I feel hope.
40
CHOOSE ME
YAKOV
Imove silently through the shadows, each step bringing me closer to her. The lodge’s polished floors yield nothing beneath my weight. Pablo’s men are skilled, but I am better. Two lie motionless in the shadows—dead or unconscious, it doesn’t matter.
The sight of her stops my heart. Mila, bound to that chair, seeping from her split lip, a crimson thread marking where Pablo’s blade has marked her neck. Fury detonates through my chest, burning away everything but focus.
Pablo grips her hair, steel pressed against her skin. The image sears itself into my brain—his hands defiling what belongs to me, threatening to steal what I cannot live without.
Our eyes meet across the room. Relief wars with terror in her expression—not for herself, but for me. Even bleeding and bound, she fears for my safety. Her devotion steals my breath.
I’ve found you. Hold on.
