Page 19 of Wicked Vow

Then what?The Viktor I’d known would have had some plan for this, some means to use Natalia’s name and frozen fortune to his benefit, to make this into a victory for himself. But the rumors I’d heard are so far proving to be correct. Viktor has become a different man since I knew him. And it’s not just the change in business. It’s all of it.

My mind is racing as the men put me in the back of a black SUV, windows tinted almost to the point of not being able to see out of them, hands still cuffed. I’m still reeling from the fact that I’m still alive at all.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask at the black divider separating me from the men sitting up front, but I unsurprisingly receive no answer. I grit my teeth, forcing back the frustration. I’m not afraid, but I’d like to fucking know where we’re going, so I can prepare myself mentally for how to handle it.

I’m on the other side of it all now, and I don’t fucking like it.

The car is filled with absolute silence as they drive. I sit there, tense and angry and confused, full of emotions that I can’t begin to sort through–and running through it all is a strange and driving need to get back to Natalia.

She should be the last of my worries right now.

The car stops, and when the door opens, I see, to my surprise, that we’re in front of a reasonably nice hotel. It’s no five-star establishment, but it’s a hell of a lot better than what I would have expected.

The men uncuff me as they pull me out of the car. I don’t recognize any of the three–none of them are from when I worked for Viktor. “Follow me,” one of them says sharply. “And don’t think about doing anything else.”

Resentment roils tightly in my gut at the feeling of being the one trapped, the one told what to do. I grit my teeth against it, waiting for the moment when it might make sense to fight back. Waiting for a sign that Viktor has betrayed me, that he plans to hurt or kill me after all, despite what he’d said to Natalia.

None of this has gone how it was supposed to.

I force the thought back. I can deal with that once I’m alone–ifI’m alone. Right now, I have to be ready, in case I have to fight for my life.

But nothing like that happens. The men take me to an elevator, one in front and two behind, and stand in stiff silence as the elevator goes up to the sixth floor, where they lead me to a room and open it with a keycard. One of them hands it to me, his expression blank as he gives me Viktor’s instructions in a rote voice.

“You have the room for one month, courtesy of Mr. Andreyev. This should give you time to decide what to do–if you wish to return to Moscow, for instance, or if you would prefer to set up your new life elsewhere. In one month, however, Mr. Andreyev expects that you will leave New York and that you will not return. He also wishes you to be reminded that if you try to speak to, approach, hassle, or in any other way make contact with Ms. Obelensky, you will no longer be the recipient of this grace, and you will be summarily punished.”

It takes everything in me not to swing at his jaw. My entire body is vibrating with nervous energy, the adrenaline of the day humming in my veins and begging to be let loose. Instead, I nod tightly, and that’s enough. The man hands me another card, his face as expressionless as ever.

“There’s a stipend on here to get you through the month. Not enough to live largely, but enough to get you by and then some. Mr. Andreyev says it’s to be considered a severance of sorts. In recognition that you didn’t betray him as he thought.”

I take it numbly, the words settling in as the man backs away, shutting the door behind him and the others. I hear the heavy footfalls as they walk away–and I’m alone.

Free. Or at least, as free as I could have hoped. I have a month to decide what to do, before being in New York will pose a danger to me. That’s a decent bit of time for a man like me to make a plan–but just now, I can’t seem to think of where to start.

Nothing has gone how I planned it, and my entire world feels as if it’s in upheaval.

The turning point of it all, it feels like, was the moment I knew Natalia was pregnant.

I want her back.That thought is clearest of all. But it’s no longer for revenge. I can see now what I couldn’t before–that it wasn’t her who was responsible. Her father was, and the men who took part, and that’s a revenge that’s far beyond me now. The best I’ll have is the man who felt guilty enough to tell me what happened, who I left in pieces when I was done with him, and I’ll have to find a way to live with that.

A surge of anger fills me, and I clench my fists, pacing in the room as I run through it all in my head. I feel cheated of my revenge, and worse, because Natalia had had no part in it. Her father is dead. The best justification I could come up with for taking it out on her now is that it’s her fault her father is dead, that she led his killer to him, and so she cheated me out of it–in a roundabout way. But that feels like nothing but a hollow excuse now.

Viktor didn’t ask for me back. He took Natalia’s part in it instead because she’d helped to save Sasha, who, in the strangest twist of fate, had turned out to be her half-sister. I close my eyes briefly, shaking my head.

The Viktor I knew once wouldn’t have gone to such lengths out of guilt for what had happened to Sasha. He wouldn’t have taken such an interest in her, sent men to save her, rewarded Natalia for her part in helping when he could have just as easily used her as a means to gain access to the fortune that lies frozen in Moscow bank accounts now, untouched and unclaimed.

He’s undeniably changed, and in ways that make it so I have no idea how I might appeal to him. The idea that the old Viktor would have me killed for trying to get back the woman I want is laughable. But now–

I believe he’ll kill me if he catches me trying to contact Natalia.

I bite back a scream of rage, frustration filling me until it feels as if I might come apart at the seams from it. My entire plan has crumbled to pieces. There’s no more vengeance for my sister and nephew, no more chance of regaining my place in Viktor’s Bratva–and now I’m alone and bereft, with the woman I want, the woman carrying my child, out of my reach.

An ache sweeps through me, so strong that it feels as if it could bring me to my knees, a feeling I’ve never had for anyone not family, before. A sense oflonging, of missing someone so much that it hurts. It tightens my chest and knots my gut, and I press my fist below my ribs, bowing my head against it.

“I’m crazy,” I mutter to the empty air. “This is crazy. I can’t–I don’t–”

I can’t love her.

This was never supposed to be like this.

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