Page 186 of Bratva's Vow
A bark sounded, and Jellybean ran toward us, Sergei trailing after him.
The dog trotted over to us, and Wren leaned into me, eyes full of mischief and love. “I think Jellybean approves too.”
“Great,” I muttered, even as I tightened my hold on him. “God forbid he takes my side afterIrescued him and gave him a home.”
Wren’s laughter died down, and he took my hand. “But… do you like it? I mean—” He bit his lip. “I know it’s smaller than the others. And not as flashy. But can you see it? As our home? I want you to love it as much as I do.”
My heart twisted. That he even cared—after everything—how I felt about a house told me more than any words ever could. It wasn’t just about real estate to him. It was about us.
I brushed my thumb under his eye, tilted his face up so he had to see the truth in mine.
“Anywhere you are is home. Of course I’ll love it.”
He leaned into me, soft now, gentler, the kind of kiss that came after the storm. Just as intense. Just quieter.
Behind us, footsteps returned. Cameron cleared his throat again, this time careful not to interrupt too much.
“So.” He smoothed the front of his blazer. “Have we made a decision, then?”
I looked at Wren.
Wren looked at me.
I gave him the nod of approval.
With eyes bright and chin up, he turned to the Realtor. “We’ll take it.”
Cameron’s smile faltered for a second. Of course he regretted we hadn’t chosen one of the more elaborate houses, which cost a lot more. He recovered with a professional nod. “Great. I’ll get the paperwork started.”
As he stepped away, Wren turned back to me, a slow, smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“He doesn’t like me,” he said.
“Of course he doesn’t. You just cost him a hefty commission by taking this house over the others.”
“Oh well, who cares? We are the ones who get to live here, plus I could live in a one-bedroom apartment with you and be happy.”
If anyone else had told me that, I wouldn’t have believed them. But Wren meant every word. He’d stood by me despite the danger of loving a man like me. He wasn’t perfect. He wasbetter—resilient, stubborn, endlessly soft where I was all hard edges. And that was why I’d made a vow. Not the kind sealed by law or rings or ceremony but a vow forged in something older, something unbreakable. The kind a Bratva Pakhan made only once in his life to the man who had sneaked past all his walls.
A vow to protect him.
To love him.
For as long as I breathed.
For as long as he would have me.
EPILOGUE
WREN
The wet, unrelenting assault of a dog’s tongue against my cheek woke me up.
“Jellybean,” I groaned, trying to burrow deeper into the pillow. No use. The little ball of fur was determined. His tail thumped like a drumroll on the mattress, the bed shaking with his excitement.
“Okay, okay.” I laughed, voice still scratchy with sleep. “I’m up, you lunatic.”
Jellybean barked once—happy, triumphant—and launched himself into a full-body cuddle, paws planted on either side of my ribs as he licked my neck. I squirmed and laughed harder, breathless and helpless to fight him off.
