Page 132 of Bratva's Vow
He was right. For all I knew, Wren was allergic. I set the puppy down.
He ran straight back to me.
Darius laughed under his breath. “Damn, Maxim. That’s got to be a first that something likes you on sight.”
I scowled but scooped the dog up again. If Wren was allergic, we could still find the puppy a good home. “Let’s finish up here quickly. I’ll find him some water.”
Sergei muttered something about liability and headaches, but he didn’t argue again. Hand tucked in my pockets, I watched the dog drink eagerly and clenched my teeth.
Darius’s words rang in my ear.
Too convenient.
Someone was always a step ahead of us. That only meant someone knew my every move. Was it any of the three men in the apartment with me?
I clenched my hand into a fist.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WREN
Asmall tan blur darted across the hallway and vanished into the living room.
I blinked.
Did we have a dog?
I rushed down the stairs, heartbeat kicking up, and the blur reappeared, bounding into the hall like it owned the place. He skidded to a stop at the sight of me, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling out of his mouth in pure, unfiltered joy.
He was small and skinny, like he’d been underfed. He was probably just over a year old, with soft brown and white fur patched over his body like a quilt stitched from trouble, and those classic Beagle features. Long velvet ears, round eyes too big for his face, and a little white-tipped tail. He looked like he belonged on a calendar. Or in my lap. Forever.
I crouched slowly, trying not to startle him. “Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “You live here now? Is this your new house? ’Cause you’re mine now. I’m never giving you back.”
He tilted his head, ears flopping with the movement, and took one hesitant step forward. Then another. His tail wagged faster, a nervous little flutter, like he was trying to decide whether I was friend or foe. Or maybe a walking treat dispenser.
“That’s it,” I murmured, sitting on the floor, holding my hand out low and open. “I’m a good guy. I promise.”
He inched forward and pressed his nose to my fingers, warm and damp and curious. One sniff. Two. Then he licked me—just once, just enough—and that was it. His whole body wiggled as he closed the distance and practically crawled into my lap, tail thumping against the floor like a drumroll.
I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. “Oh my god. You’re the sweetest. I already love you, and I don’t even know your name.”
“Babe!” I shouted toward the ceiling, still sitting on the floor with a very satisfied Beagle sprawled across my thighs. “I found a puppy, and I am keeping him!”
Footsteps echoed along the floor. A few seconds later, Maxim appeared from his office, looking way too amused for someone who brought possible chaos—beautiful chaos—into our home.
“You found a puppy?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or I brought you a puppy?”
I gasped. “He’s for me? Really?”
Maxim shrugged like it was no big deal, but he didn’t bother to hide the softness in his eyes. “If you want him. His previous owners are no longer able to take care of him. Not that I think they did a good job from the looks of him. If you don’t want him, I’ll have to find him a new owner.”
“If I—” I clutched the dog to my chest like someone might try to steal him. “Of course I want him. Look at him. He’s perfect. He has emotional damage and floppy ears. He’s my people.”
The Beagle, clearly drunk on attention, wiggled in my arms until he slipped free and trotted over to Maxim, tail wagging like a flag in a windstorm. Maxim bent and scooped him up, holding him like it was second nature.
And the damn dog nuzzled into his neck like he’d belonged there his whole life.
Traitor. But also… I kind of got it. Because I did the same to Maxim.
