Page 171 of Bratva's Vow
My stomach knotted, and I stared at Sergei. At the way his stance behind the doctor—tense and watchful—could read as a silent threat or a silent shield.
But I nodded, saying nothing about the worry gnawing at my stomach. “We move swiftly to shut this down,” I said. “Dezi, Viktor, you’re with me back at the house, just in case.”
Dezi grinned and rolled his shoulders. “Been waiting to hurt someone since I found out about Wren. He was stubborn when I had to watch him, but he’s a good one.”
Viktor said nothing, just gave a short, sharp nod and fell in beside me.
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t trust myself to.
Because if I did—if I hesitated even a second—I might turn around and chase after that helicopter.
And I couldn’t.
Not until this was over.
Not until Archie was dead.
The message I sent to the encrypted group chat was short. Cold.
Me:
Wren didn’t make it.
No one is to contact me.
I don’t want condolences.
I don’t need drop-ins.
I want to be alone.
I muted the thread and dropped my phone onto the kitchen island. The waiting—that was the worst part. Darius had confirmed Archie was still at home, which only meant one thing: he wasn’t worried. He still thought we were in the dark. If he’d suspected otherwise, he had the means to vanish without a trace.
The house felt too big without Wren. Too still. Like it knew he was missing but didn’t dare say it out loud.
I poured water into Jellybean’s bowl. He didn’t touch it. Just paced the tiles with soft paws, tail low, whining under his breath. Every so often, he glanced at the entrance, like he was sure Wren would walk through it any second.
I crouched beside him, scratching behind his ears.
“Sorry we’ve been ignoring you, sharik,” I murmured. “He’s not doing so good. But he’ll be fine. He has to be.”
The words sounded like a prayer I wasn’t sure I believed.
“Leo said the hospital we sent him to has the best toxicologist in the States. They’ll take care of him. He’ll pull through.”
My phone buzzed.
Sergei:
You were right. Archie called Leo to check if Wren was really dead.
I stood there for a long moment, watching the dog finally drink from his bowl. The water sloshed loudly onto the floor.The truth hit me right then that even though every clue pointed to Archie, I’d wanted it to be a misunderstanding. As if there could be any excuse for him requesting a doctor deliberately fuck with Wren’s treatment to kill him.
My phone rang. Archie’s name flashed across the screen. I ended the calls the first two times. The third time I let it go to voice mail. Messages popped up.
Archie:
