Page 149 of Vendetta Vows

Something flickers across his face. Pain, maybe, or understanding.

"I'll take care of it," he says. "I'll take care of you."

"I know. I believe you."

And I do. Whatever else might be uncertain between us, I trust in his capacity to protect what's his.

For better or worse, I am his now.

"Hannah called me," I finally say. "She saw the post and she's worried."

Ruslan's hand drops from my face, his expression shifting subtly. "What did you tell her?"

"The truth." I swallow hard. "That I married you."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "How did she take it?"

"About as well as you'd expect." I twist my fingers together. "She wants to come see me and make sure I'm okay."

I brace myself for his refusal, for the security concerns, for all the reasons why bringing an outsider here would be dangerous.

But he surprises me again when he says: "I can arrange for someone to pick her up."

39

RUSLAN

I standin the main hall, waiting. Aurora's hand slips into mine, trembling slightly. She's worried about her friend, about bringing Hannah into this world. In this moment, I see the depth of the bond between them.

Uncommon in my world, where loyalty is bought or coerced, and rarely given freely.

The massive doors swing open, and Artyom enters with Hannah in tow. Her fiery red hair matches her temperament as she yanks her arm from his grip.

"I can walk perfectly fine on my own, thanks," she snaps, straightening her jacket with a huff.

Artyom's face, usually a stoic mask of efficiency, contorts into something between confusion and annoyance.

I shake my head slightly, fighting the urge to smile.

My oldest friend, who has intimidated hardened criminals into sobbing confessions, completely thrown by a petite redhead.

Aurora rushes forward. "Hannah!"

They embrace, Aurora's shoulders visibly relaxing as she holds her friend. Hannah pulls back, examining Aurora with critical eyes.

"You're okay? Like, really okay?" Hannah's gaze flickers to me, cold and suspicious.

"I'm fine," Aurora assures her. "Better than fine."

Hannah's eyebrow arches with skepticism.

I step forward, extending my hand. "Ms. Voight. Thank you for coming."

She takes it reluctantly, her grip firm but brief. "Didn't have much choice after your goon showed up at my door."

Artyom mutters something in Russian that makes my lips twitch. I dismiss him with a nod.

Hannah's sharp eyes take in the surroundings from the marble floors, to the security cameras discreetly mounted in corners, and at the men patrolling outside with barely concealed weapons.

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