Page 51 of Bratva's Vow
I twisted slowly to face him, my lips curling into something sharp and mean.
“Don’t thank me,” I said coldly. My voice was hoarse from all the crying and talking, but it still cut. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I knew if I told the truth, you’d kill me too.”
Maxim whipped his head toward me, his eyes wide and furious.
“Don’t say that,” he bit out, sitting up straighter. “Don’t you ever fucking say that, Wren. How could you think I’d ever hurt you?”
I barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, quite easily. Just like you did with Bradley. You don’t have to do it yourself. You didn’t even blink. You didn’t flinch when he fell.”
Maxim’s jaw clenched. “It wasn’t the same. He threatened you. He put his hands on you. He didn’t deserve to live after that, and I will never apologize that he’s dead.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “When do I get to drink the cyanide you’ve poured? So long as I drink it on my own, it’s not your fault, is it?”
“Enough, Wren.” His voice darkened, edged with something harsher. I felt the shift in the air even before his hand clamped around my wrist. Not rough but tight enough that I couldn’t ignore it. “Stop making those jokes. I would never hurt you. Do you hear me? Never.”
I stared down at his hand, then up at his face. His eyes were wild, desperate, and for a moment, too raw. Too real.
“You already did,” I whispered, yanking my wrist free. “I was just a twelve-year-old boy waiting for his father to show up for his birthday, and he never came. Because of you. You’re the reason he’s dead, Maxim, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”
He recoiled like I’d stabbed him.
“Your dad knew what he was signing up for when he came to work for me.” He spoke low, barely a breath now. “He understood the rules. He knew what would happen if he got caught. It wasn’t supposed to touch you.”
“Yet it did,” I snapped, my throat tightening painfully. “It destroyed me. And what’s worse… you knew. Youknewwhen I came in for that interview. When I stayed late working, when we had dinner together, when I crawled into your bed.You knew exactly who I was and what you did to my family, and you let me fall in love with you anyway!”
Maxim bowed his head, but I wasn’t done.
I was far from done.
“What about the coffee shop?” I turned to face him fully now, my chest heaving. “That day we first met. Was any of that real? Or were you stalking me from day one?”
His eyes flashed, but his voice stayed even. “That was real, Wren. I swear to you. I had no fucking clue who you were until you walked into the office for your interview. I thought you were cute. Sassy. That’s all it was.”
“You expect me to believe you?” I shot back bitterly. “What does it matter anyway? Bradley’s dead. My dad’s dead. You can’t make them come back, so what’s the point of talking to you anymore?”
I slumped back against the seat, dragging my hands through my hair. My skin felt too tight. My heart felt too big for my chest, aching and throbbing.
It was all too much.
Too much grief.
Too much betrayal.
Too much love still clawing at the inside of me when all I wanted to do was hate him clean.
So I didn’t say anything else.
Every breath felt like it scraped the inside of my ribs.
I couldn’t even look at him anymore.
My reflection ghosted in the window, face blotchy and pale, eyes rimmed red and raw. I didn’t recognize myself. The guy sitting here wasn’t me.
Or maybe he was the real me. The fool. The naïve, stupid boy who’d let himself believe thatthis—whateverthiswas with Maxim—had ever been normal.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.
“Bradley wasn’t innocent,” Maxim said quietly.
