Page 85 of Savage Vows
His fingers dig in, panic clawing at the back of my throat. My mind flashes briefly to Remik, to Dante’s world, to all the men who make decisions in the dark.
I act before I can think. I drive my knee up, hard, straight between his legs.
He gasps, curses, and doubles over. I wrench my arm free and bolt, sprinting out of the alley, past a line of dumpsters and into the blurry neon of the mall’s back entrance. My lungs burn, every sound amplified. I round the corner and slam into someone, a solid, unfamiliar chest.
I freeze, terrified. The man steps aside and I stumble past him, ready to scream, but then I see her, standing by the exit, her eyes wide with worry.
I step toward her. “Julianne?”
24
DANTE
I shouldn’t be out here.I know it the second I leave the warmth of the car and step into the city’s night air. The mall lights behind me cast long shadows on the slick pavement, but I keep my eyes on the blinking dot on my phone screen. Adriana’s location. She left the theater. Bella’s still inside, Oleg still clueless. Adriana is alone.
She thinks I don’t notice the little lies—the “girl’s night out” that she has planned with her friend, which is obviously a front for something else. So I cancelled the rest of my plans for the night and hoped that I would be wrong. But I wasn’t.
Her dot moves, slipping out the far exit of the mall. I pocket the phone and keep my distance, cutting through the crowds and across the parking lot, staying in the shadows. I don’t know what I’m expecting—maybe a secret meeting, maybe just a chance to see for myself what she’s gotten herself into.
I follow her down a side street, past a strip of closed shops and the rattling whine of a bus. She walks quickly, glancing over her shoulder once, and then ducks into a narrow alley. My heart hammers in my chest. I quicken my pace, staying silent.
My father’s warning rings in my mind, the words still sharp. He told me women like her can’t be trusted, that letting them out of your sight is just inviting trouble. I used to think he was bitter, clinging to old rules. Now I wonder if he wasn’t just being careful.
The further she gets from the main lights of the mall, the more the neighborhood shifts. I slow down, shoving my phone in my jacket, and watch her turn down a side street, past the trash bins and old glass doors of shuttered storefronts. She moves fast, but she’s nervous. I see it in her shoulders. I almost call out to her, but something keeps me back. She needs to feel the risk if she’s going to understand what she’s playing with.
She slips into an alley behind a dead pizzeria, and I follow, careful to keep my footsteps quiet. The cold, sour smell of the city is thick here, mingled with the iron tang of adrenaline in my mouth. I hear voices ahead, hers and a man’s, too low to make out the words at first. My hands curl into fists.
I get close enough to see the shadows on the brick. The man moves too close. The guy is practically in her face, threatening her. Rage almost binds me, but I need to get to the truth.
Then I hear Adriana, her voice firmer than I expect, not backing down. My jaw tightens with pride and fear, old feelings colliding. I remember my father’s warning—Sentiment is a weakness, son. You can’t protect everyone. But that was before I met her. That was before I learned what it meant to want something that isn’t just power.
The argument grows. I see the man grab her arm. My vision narrows to a pinprick. I take a step forward, ready to end it, but Adriana moves first—her knee comes up fast, hard, and the guy folds. She breaks free, running.
I force myself to hang back, biting down the urge to rush in. She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for, but she shouldn’t have to be.
I don’t let Adriana out of my sight until she disappears from the alley. Only then do I step out of the shadows and stalk after the dealer, rage simmering just beneath my skin. He’s moving fast, glancing over his shoulder, but not fast enough.
I grab him by the back of his jacket, slam him hard against the brick wall. The force rattles his teeth. I press my forearm to his chest, holding him in place.
“How dare you lay your hands on her?” My voice is low, steady, pure threat.
He stares at me, wild-eyed, trying to get his bearings. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits.
I step closer, pressing my forearm to his chest, letting him get a good look at me in the light of a flickering streetlamp. Recognition dawns. He goes pale, mouth opening.
“You…you’re Dante Volkov.”
I don’t let up. “That’s right. And you’re filth.” My voice drops. “What were you doing with my wife?”
He blinks, thrown, fear creeping in. “Wait—your wife? That crazy woman was your wife? Shit, man, I didn’t know, I swear! She came at me asking about some missing girl?—”
I shove him harder. “If you ever touch her again, you’ll beg for the river. You understand?”
He’s sweating now, hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Look, if Romanov hears about this, I’m already dead?—”
The name stops me cold. My grip tightens. “Romanov? You mean Mikhail Romanov?”
He nods, voice shaking. “Yeah. Sometimes I move stuff for him, just deliveries.” His eyes dart around, wild with fear. “I can’t be seen talking to you,” he mutters, glancing toward the mouth of the alley.
