Page 82 of Bratva's Vow
That I didn’t mind. With their help, I could find out who was responsible for harming the one person I counted as blood family.
When we were alone, I stepped closer to his bedside and looked down at the man who’d given me a home. The one who still called me cousin, like it meant something more than blood.
And I’d let him down by not taking his call.
“I’m so sorry, Vova,” I whispered in Russian, the words tearing out of me like shrapnel.
“Prosti menya, kuzina. Ya dolzhen byl otvetit.”
Forgive me, cousin. I should’ve answered.
He didn’t move.
He just breathed, the machine rising and falling for him.
But I felt it. That coil of grief tightening inside me. And the rage, burning through it.
Someone had done this.
And they’d pay.
CHAPTER TWENTY
WREN
The rug was wearing thin beneath my footsteps, a quiet confession to how long I’d been pacing. Back and forth, from the bed to the window and back again. Seventeen steps. I’d counted them so many times the motion had become muscle memory. The only thing anchoring me while the rest of me unraveled.
Maxim was home.
I’d watched from behind the curtain as Sergei pulled into the driveway, headlights cutting through the dusk like a blade. Maxim had stepped out, coat slung over one shoulder, head down. No glance up at the house. No glance at me. Just silence and stone, like I wasn’t even here.
Two hours. He’d been home for two hours, and he hadn’t bothered to come upstairs to check on me. I’d expected him to be angry. To be his usual overbearing, opinionated self. This silence from him was scary. I didn’t know what he was thinking.
I checked the clock on the nightstand. 10:08 p.m. Thesoft glow of the numbers only made the silence feel more profound. More pointed. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging tight, trying not to spiral, but every minute he stayed away fed the ache in my chest.
I hated that he made me aware of how much I still wanted him—craved his attention—by starving me of his presence.
What was the point of bringing me back if he was going to pretend I didn’t exist? He could’ve left me at the motel. Let me exist in that sad, airless room with scratchy sheets and no entertainment.
At least there, I knew where I stood. Here? Everything felt warped. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I left last night, I’d been sure I had every right to leave him. But the walls stared back at me with accusation that I’d been wrong for leaving while he slept innocently next to me.
But how could I not? He was holding me hostage.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at the door like I could will him through it. Like I could make him remember he was the one who’d chased me down. Because of him, my best friend had betrayed me. And for what? So he could ignore me?
I let out a bitter laugh, scrubbing a hand over my face as my conversation with Jess after Maxim left earlier replayed in my mind.
With all the screaming at Maxim, my throat felt sore, so I walked stiffly into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.I didn’t bother with a glass, just cracked the bottle open and drank straight from it.
Jess entered the kitchen with Nik behind her. Silence echoed in the space between us. I glanced away, unable to face her and what she’d done. We’d been friends for three years. She’d known Maxim for a couple of months and had chosen his side. Jess had always been loyal to me and I to her.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I crushed the now-empty water bottle into my fist.
“I’ll wait outside.” Nik kissed Jess’s temple, whispering something into her ear I didn’t catch.
“Wren, let’s talk. I know you hate me?—”
“Do you?”
