Page 49 of Bratva's Vow
“So what now? You shove me off the edge too to keep me quiet?”
I scowled, his words cutting deeper than any blade could.
“Is that what you think?” The words came out low and rough, cracking under the weight of everything we were drowning in. I stalked toward him, fury and devastation blending into something sharp and ugly inside me. “That I could ever hurt you?”
Wren flinched, and my heart sank. This was worse than his fear. He didn’t trust me anymore. Not even to protect him from myself.
I stopped, breathing hard, my fists clenched at my sides. “Everything I’ve ever fucking done is to keep you safe. Every wall I built. Every secret I kept. Every decision I made.”
His mouth twisted, face blotchy and wet with tears. “Safe?” He let out a wild, bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “You call this safe? You being some Mafia king with enemies gunning for you at every corner? You controlling my every move? Having men tail me like I’m property? You just killed a man in front of me.” His voice cracked at the end.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me,” I ground out, barely able to hear the words through the storm in my head. “If you’d stayed away from him?—”
“Don’t you dare!” Wren snapped, his voice shattering like glass. “You are not going to fucking blame me for this. You messed this up, Maxim. You messed up both our lives when you killed our fathers.”
Before I could answer, the rooftop door opened. Sergei burst through, Dezi right behind him. Sergei took one look at Wren, wild-eyed and trembling, and his face darkened, grim and hard as stone.
“We need to get him out of here,” Sergei barked, already moving forward. “Now. The cops are going to show up any second. We can’t have him here when they do. They’ll want statements. They’ll want him.”
I shot a sharp glare at Sergei, my chest heaving. “He won’t tell them anything.” My eyes met Wren’s, pleading and desperate. “You won’t betray me. I know you won’t, despite everything.”
Wren’s face contorted, rage and heartbreak battling for dominance. He shook his head slowly. “I would,” he said bitterly. “I would, Maxim. In a fucking heartbeat. You deserve to be locked up for what you’ve done. You don’t deserve my loyalty. Not after all the lies you’ve told me.”
The words hit harder than any physical blow could. I felt them in my bones. In my fucking soul.
I stared at him, feeling as if the world tilted sideways. “You don’t mean that,” I murmured, my voice suddenly hoarse, as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath me.
Sergei cut in, taking command. “Even if he doesn’t, right now Wren isn’t in the right frame of mind.” He flicked his eyes to Dezi. “Get him out of here. Now. And don’t fuck it up.”
Dezi hesitated for half a beat, then moved toward Wren.
Wren tensed, jerking back like a skittish animal.
“Don’t touch me!” he barked. He wiped his face roughly,trying to pull himself together, and staggered forward on his own. “I can walk.” He shoved Dezi’s hand away. He took two steps—just two—then his knees buckled.
His eyes fluttered, his face going pale as paper.
“Wren!” I surged forward, catching him before he hit the cold, unforgiving concrete. His body sagged against mine, boneless and limp.
“Shit,” Sergei hissed, moving beside me as I held Wren against my chest, hugging the terrifying stillness of his body.
I swallowed thickly, pressing my hand to his cheek, which felt too cool. “He fainted.”
“This is bad, Maxim,” Sergei said tightly. “The cops will be here soon. We need a story, and we need it fast.”
I looked down at Wren’s peaceful face, wiped clean of his rage now that unconsciousness had stolen it away.
“There’s no story,” I said hollowly, adjusting my grip on Wren and rising to my feet with him cradled against my chest like something precious and breakable. Because he was. And I’d broken him into a million fragments.
Sergei’s face twisted. “Maxim?—”
“There’s nothing else to tell. Bradley was suicidal, and we tried to stop him. We failed. I’d rather keep Wren out of it, but if I can’t, I trust him.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
I held Wren tighter and turned toward the door, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
“That’s our story,” I said grimly as I walked away, Wren heavy and fragile in my arms. “And we stick to it. If we have to pay people to make it believable, then do it.”
