Page 57 of Bound Vows
“You’re wrong. I loved Elena. I would never have hurt her.” Tears stream down her face now, though I’m not sure whether they’re from guilt or fear. “She was my only family.”
My nostrils flare as the truth lodges in my chest. “She was the only thing standing between you and what you wanted. Elena’s death gave you access to me, purpose in my organization, and eight years to position yourself for whatever future you’ve been planning.”
Katarina reaches for the door handle with trembling hands. “When you realize the truth, it will be too late to fix the damage you’re about to cause.”
“The only truth I need is the one you’ve just confirmed through your words and reactions.” I stop just close enough to ensure she understands the full implications of this conversation. “You killed your sister to have access to me, then spent years positioning yourself to replace her.”
“I didn’t kill anyone. I just…” She stops herself before completing the admission, but the damage is already done.
“Get out. Get out now, before I lose control and do something that even I might regret. You have five minutes to leave this property before I stop caring about Elena’s dying wish.”
After Katarina flees, I collapse into my chair with Alexei staring on. For eight years, I’ve been protecting and supporting the woman who murdered my wife and unborn child. The irony tastes as much like poison as it does rage.
I reach for my phone to increase security around Maya, knowing that Katarina’s obsession won’t end with her dismissal. If anything, losing her position will make her more dangerous.
Chapter 25
Maya
Waking up alone in our bed at the mountain safe house while the morning sun streams through bulletproof windows should feel peaceful, but Andrei’s side of the mattress is cold, and there’s no sound of movement in the compound.
“Andrei?” I call out as I pull on my robe, favoring my still-tender ankle as I pad toward the bathroom. “Please tell me you’re just having an early morning crisis of conscience.”
Silence greets me from every corner of the safe house, and my stomach knots as I realize something has gone catastrophically wrong. The guards who should be patrolling the hallways are nowhere to be seen, and the usual morning sounds of a functioning security operation are absent.
I limp through the house as quickly as my injured ankle allows, checking each room for signs of Andrei or whoever managed to create this unnatural quiet. The kitchen is empty, his office is vacant, and the security station shows no signs of recent activity.
That’s when I find them—three guards slumped over their monitors in the security room with darts protruding from their necks.
“Well, this is fantastic,” I grumble as I check their pulses. They’re alive but unconscious. “Someone managed to drug an entire security team without triggering a single alarm.”
A folded piece of paper on the main security console catches my attention, and I recognize the elegant handwriting before I even read the words that make my blood turn to ice.
Maya,
Your husband is enjoying my hospitality at a location where we can have the conversation that’s been overdue for months. You have until 10:00 to come to the warehouse at 47th and Vernon in Queens, alone and unarmed, or I’ll be forced to demonstrate what happens to men who choose the wrong woman.
Don’t involve law enforcement, don’t contact his organization, and don’t imagine that anyone can help you now. This is between us, and it ends tonight.
Don’t be late.
K
I crumple the note and think through my limited options. Katarina has somehow managed to drug a security team and either overpower or trick Andrei into leaving with her. Given that Andrei is twice her size and paranoid enough to sleep with weapons within reach, I’m guessing she had help, or used methods that bypassed his defenses.
The smart play would be to contact my brothers, call the police, or find another way to bring backup to the confrontationKatarina has planned. But the note makes it clear that any deviation from her instructions will result in Andrei’s death, and something tells me she’s desperate enough to follow through on the threat.
I’ve been married to the man for a month, and I’m already facing the choice between saving him and saving myself. The irony would be amusing if it weren’t potentially fatal.
“Stupid, Maya,” I mutter while searching Andrei’s desk for weapons. “Fall in love with a crime boss, win stupid prizes.”
The desk drawer yields a Glock 19 with a full magazine and two backup clips, which should be sufficient for whatever Katarina has planned. I check the action and chamber a round before tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans, then grab a knife from the kitchen and slip it into my boot.
My ankle throbs with each step as I head to the garage, but adrenaline overrides most of the pain. The keys to Andrei’s BMW hang on the hook beside the door, and I grab them before climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine.
The drive to Queens takes an hour and forty-three minutes through Manhattan traffic designed to test my patience and sanity. Every red signal feels like a countdown to disaster, and every slow-moving vehicle becomes an obstacle between me and whatever hell Katarina has prepared.
The warehouse district looks like every crime movie location scout’s wet dream—abandoned buildings, broken streetlamps, and the kind of industrial decay that screams “bad things happen here.” Number 47 sits at the end of a dead-end street, surrounded by empty lots and the skeletal remains of businesses that died during the last economic collapse.
