Page 97 of Savage Vows
Remik gasps,trying to push himself up, blood running between his fingers. “Did you just fucking shoot me?”
I lower the gun, keeping it pointed right at him, my hand steady. “You put your hands on my wife. You’re lucky I didn’t aim for your head.”
I had been talking to a few old associates near the bar, half listening to their stories about the docks, when I looked around and realized Adriana wasn’t there anymore. For a second, I thought maybe she’d gone to the restroom, but the feeling in my gut was all wrong. The club was loud, crowded, too many faces and too many shadows.
I pushed away from the group and started looking for her, searching every hallway and back corner. I caught a glimpse of her on the first floor with one of Maksim’s security guys and kept moving. I told myself she was fine. She was stubborn, smart, not the kind of woman who got herself cornered.
But I heard something, maybe her voice, maybe just instinct. I found the staff door open and stepped inside. That’s when I saw Remik, his hand twisted in her hair, her face twisted in pain.
I didn’t think. I just raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
Now Remik is bleeding on the floor, glaring up at me, hate and disbelief in his eyes. Adriana’s eyes are wide, her breath shaky, but she’s alive. That’s all I care about.
I step between her and Remik, gun still raised. “You have five seconds to get out before I put another bullet in you,” I say, my voice as cold as I feel inside.
Adriana is shaking, but she grips my arm, steadying herself. For a moment, the only sound in the room is Remik’s labored breathing and the dull, distant thump of the club’s music.
Remik staggers back, face twisted in pain and outrage. “You’re fucking insane, Volkov. I was only trying to save you. She’s got you wrapped around her fingers pretty well.”
I just watch him go, gun steady at my side, not bothering to answer. He disappears down the hall, cursing under his breath.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Adriana turns to me, eyes searching my face. “What did he mean by that?”
I shake my head, the adrenaline still running hot in my veins. “I don’t know. Remik’s always been good at talking shit when he’s desperate.”
Adriana looks almost stricken as she grabs my hand. “Dante, I know who the real killer is.”
I start to turn toward the door.
She quickly shakes her head. “No, not him. It’s Luka, the guy my sister ran away with.”
I expect a surge of anger or something, but to be honest, I feel nothing. I can’t care less about Julianna. She only matters because of Adriana.
“Then your sister might be in danger if she’s with him,” I say quietly.
She nods, already reaching for her phone. “Yeah. I need to warn her.”
I watch as she dials Julianne’s number, her hands trembling. The call rings, then goes to voicemail. She tries again, same result. I see the panic in her eyes and step closer, steadying her with a hand at her elbow.
“She’s not answering,” she whispers, voice small, afraid. “What if she’s already?—”
I squeeze her arm, my voice calm but fierce. “We’ll find her, Adriana. I swear it.”
On the drive back to the apartment, Adriana sits beside me, silent at first, then calling Julianne’s number again and again. Each time it goes to voicemail, I can see her hands start to shake a little more, her jaw clenching with every failed call.
I keep my eyes on the road, glancing at her every few blocks. She dials again, her breath coming faster, panic starting to edge into her voice.
“Try again,” I say quietly.
She does, and when it goes straight to voicemail this time, she lets out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening in the passingstreetlights. I reach over, sliding my hand to her thigh, then pull her gently across the seat until her shoulder is pressed against me.
“Hey,” I say softly, my voice lower than I mean it to be. “We’ll find her. We’ll find Julianne, I promise.”
She leans into me, her phone still clutched in her hand. Her head drops to my chest and for a minute, she just breathes, letting herself be held.
I run my thumb slowly over her shoulder, steady and warm. “We’re going to figure this out,” I tell her, and for the first time tonight, I realize how much I mean it. I’ll tear this city apart if I have to.
As soon as we’re back at the apartment, Adriana paces the living room, calling Julianne over and over, her anxiety growing by the minute. I know she won’t sleep, won’t even sit down, not until she hears her sister’s voice. So I do the only thing that makes sense—I start making calls of my own.
