Page 62 of Bratva's Vow
“I need to shower.” My voice trembled, but I clung to the excuse like a lifeline. “I… I need to clear my head.”
Before he could stop me, I bolted, my legs shaky as I fled to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.
My back hit the wood as I slid down, burying my face in my hands.
My heart wouldn’t slow down. My lips still tingled. Mywhole body felt wired and desperate and utterly betrayed by my weakness.
I almost gave in to him.
Almost.
And the worst part was, a small, broken part of me still wanted to.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAXIM
Istared at the bathroom door, where a faint wisp of steam curled beneath it.
Too long.
He was taking too long.
My shirt clung loose and open against my skin, sticking to my chest with sweat. My slacks hung low on my hips. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the nightstand beside me, condensation trailing slowly down the side. I’d gone downstairs, poured myself a drink, talked to Dezi about Wren’s day before he left, then returned upstairs, and Wren was still in the shower.
Perhaps waiting for me to go away, but too many days had passed already. It was about time for him to come to terms with being a Pakhan’s lover. While the position came with certain dangers, there were perks too. The biggest being that I was crazy about him. He could get anything out of me if he asked. Anything.
Except bringing his dad back.
The knot in my stomach was tighter than any drink could loosen.
He’d been in there for forty-five minutes. The water never stopped running. The sound of it mocked me, the steady rush like static filling my head.
I raked a hand through my hair, fingers gripping tight enough to sting.
Fuck this.
I’d been patient enough with him.
I pushed up from the bed, shedding the shirt completely, letting it fall in a heap. My pants and underwear followed. I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t knock. Just stormed across the room and pulled the bathroom door open.
The steam hit me first, thick and suffocating. Hot and oppressive like the fucking silence between us.
My heart dropped.
Wren.
He was on the floor of the shower, knees pulled tight to his chest, his face buried in them. The spray beat down relentlessly, plastering his hair to his head, soaking his skin. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, the sound so raw and broken it punched the air right out of me.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
I’d seen death. I’d caused it. I’d witnessed men beg and scream and weep.
But nothing ever shredded me like this.
This was the boy who used to curl up next to me and mumble about silly things at midnight when he couldn’t sleep. The one who swapped my coffee for a healthier drink because he cared about my well-being. The one who protested when I kissed his neck but whined when I stopped.
Now he was… this.
