Page 147 of Bratva's Vow
Bull's-eye.
I groaned low under my breath. “That’s good, kroshka.”
From behind me, Sergei cleared his throat. “You two need a reminder you’re in public?”
Wren glanced around, his cheek turning a bright pink. Curious glances met us from other shooters. An instructor frowned like he was on the verge of kicking us out.
I meant to laugh, to make some smug comment, but the world tilted.
Not enough to knock me down. Just enough to send my stomach pitching, my vision contracting to a tight, pulsing tunnel.
Shit.
I gripped the bench to steady myself, but my fingers didn’t land right. They scraped uselessly against the steel.
Wren noticed instantly. “Maxim?”
I gritted my teeth, nodding once. “It’s fine. Just?—”
But it wasn’t. That strange, familiar flicker started at the base of my skull. That too-bright static crackling at the edge of my thoughts, rushing toward the center.
No time.
I dropped my hand to my chest and fumbled for the small, circular magnet hanging from the chain around my neck, fingers clumsy with urgency. I yanked it free and dragged it hard across the implant beneath my collarbone. The third swipe felt like lighting a fuse.
The VNS kicked in.
It was subtle, a soft pulse like a hummingbird’s wings fluttering in my throat. Not painful, just strange. Like being touched from the inside. My breathing hitched, not from panic but from sheer effort to stay upright while the device did its job.
Wren had carefully put down the gun and was at my side, his hands hovering like he didn’t know where to touch. “Maxim, what’s happening?”
“It’s a seizure.” Sergei shielded me with his body from the onlookers. “Looks like it’s controlled. Just give him a moment to snap completely out of it.”
I braced myself against the bench, eyes closed, waiting out the worst of it. The buzz of the stimulator helped break the circuit, dulling the lightning storm behind my eyes. Theseizure backed down like a tide retreating, still powerful but losing grip. Thank fuck. Most of the time, it worked like a charm. At other times… it was a hit or miss.
Wren’s hand found my back, warm and grounding.
“You okay?” he asked, voice raw and too quiet.
I nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. Caught it early.”
And because he still looked too serious, too worried, I said, “Good thing you can shoot now. Someone’s got to protect me when I need to reboot.”
He didn’t laugh.
He curled his hand tighter around my arm. “I’ve got you.”
And he did.
More than he even knew.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
WREN
Late again.
I burst into the kitchen, nearly colliding with the island stool. Shit, I shouldn’t have moved so quickly. I’d just thrown up my guts and wasn’t completely steady on my feet.
