Page 111 of Mafia King's Broken Vow
Aleksander steps forward, his voice measured but carrying authority. “He alerted me before he left. Gave us his position and intent.” His gaze shifts to Igor. “The overwatch functioned without him.”
“That’s not the point,” Igor snaps. “Chain of command exists for a reason. You follow orders, not your personal feelings.”
Nikolai raises a hand, silencing whatever retort Igor was preparing. “Let’s discuss this rationally.” His eyes move between Mila and me, missing nothing of our proximity, the lingering tension between us. “Mila, perhaps you could give us your account of tonight’s events.”
Mila straightens her spine, professional composure slipping back into place even as her eyes flash momentarily to mine. “Pablo had me cornered in the alley behind West Eighth Street. His men had already neutralized my security detail. He overpowered me and was about to hurt me or worse when Yakov appeared.”
“And how exactly did you manage that?” Nikolai asks, turning his calculating gaze to me.
I consider lying, offering a sanitized version that might preserve whatever trust I’ve built. Instead, I choose truth, the path Mila’s been encouraging since our first session. “I abandoned my assigned overwatch position and pursued her without authorization.”
“You made a tactical decision to prioritize one person over the mission,” Igor states coldly. “That’s not how we operate.”
“No,” I correct him. “I’ve been mapping vulnerabilities in your security since I arrived. It’s what I do. But I only acted on that knowledge when Mila was in danger.”
“In any military organization, leaving your position is grounds for severe punishment. Why did you do it?” Nikolai asks, his voice carrying quiet authority.
The question hangs between us, demanding the truth I’m still learning to articulate. I could offer a strategic explanation, that Mila’s value as my therapist made her protection a logical priority. I could claim calculation rather than emotion drove my actions.
Instead, my eyes find Mila’s, drawing strength from what I see there. “Because she matters,” I say simply. “Because I couldn’t stand by while Pablo took her. I—” I stop myself before completing that thought, the word too raw, too new to speak aloud. “She is important to me.”
The admission settles in the room, weighty with implications none of us can ignore. Igor makes a disgusted sound, but Nikolai’s expression shifts subtly—reassessment rather than rejection.
“You killed Pablo’s thug,” he observes. “Without hesitation.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“You let Pablo live,” Igor interjects, suspicion evident in his tone. “Why?”
I consider my answer carefully. “Killing him would’ve escalated things beyond repair with his uncle’s organization. Wounding him sends a different message, that we’re capable of mercy but shouldn’t be tested further. Besides, Aleksander had his men secure him before I could change my mind.”
Nikolai’s eyebrow raises slightly. “Strategic thinking even in the heat of combat. Interesting.”
“I’m always strategic,” I reply. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of other considerations.”
My eyes drift to Mila again, unable to help myself. The look we exchange says everything words cannot, that whatever’s developing between us has become something neither of us expected. Something neither of us can deny any longer.
“We’ll discuss appropriate disciplinary measures tomorrow,” Nikolai finally says. “Abandoning your post during operations cannot be overlooked, regardless of the outcome.”
“And his privileges?” Mila asks, a slight edge to her voice that makes warmth unfurl in my chest. She’s fighting for me, this remarkable woman who shouldn’t care for a man with my history.
Nikolai studies her for a long moment, then turns those calculating eyes to me. “Maintained, for now. Perhaps even expanded, given tonight’s outcome.” He glances at Igor, whose jaw tightens visibly. “We can’t ignore that his actions, while against protocol, ultimately protected Mila and prevented a potential war with the cartel.”
Igor looks like he wants to argue but subsides under Nikolai’s steady gaze. “Fine,” he grinds out. “But security gets doubled. No more incidents.”
The guards enter to escort me back to my quarters, and I allow them to lead me without resistance. As I pass Mila, our eyes lock one final time, communication passing between us that needs no words. I’ll get back to her. No matter the security, no matter the consequences. What’s begun between us is too powerful to be contained by locks and guards.
Hours later, after the debriefings and medical checks, I stand alone in my room, the silence heavy around me. The adrenaline of the night has faded, leaving me strangely hollowed out, contemplative in a way I haven’t been since before Ana died.
Who am I becoming?
The question echoes in the emptiness. For years, revenge defined me, cold calculation aimed at the Bratva’s downfall. That purpose shaped every decision. Even in captivity, I maintained that identity, the monster they feared, the strategist always three moves ahead.
But tonight, I broke my own rules. Risked the advances I made for someone else’s safety. For Mila.
I move to the window, watching the night sky outside, stars scattered across the darkness. The world sleeps while I stand here contemplating who I’ve become. I’m shifting, changing from one state to another entirely. Not peace—I’m not naive enough to believe in that—but perhaps purpose. A different kind of purpose than the one that’s driven me since Ana bled out in my arms.
In the glass, my reflection stares back at me, familiar features that seem somehow changed. The cruel soldier is still there in the cold of my eyes, the hardness around my mouth. But there’s something else now, too, that I barely recognize.
