Page 5 of Convenient Vows

I let the music swallow me whole.

It hits faster than I expect.

The dizziness creeps in, soft at first, then heavy. The room blurs at the edges, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. I search for Camila and Valentina, but they’re gone—lost in the crush of bodies and noise.

I step outside for air, heart pounding. The night is cool against my flushed skin, but it does little to clear my head.

That’s when they approach.

Two men, maybe late twenties, slick smiles and expensive clothes. I don’t recognize them, but they act familiar, like we’ve met before.

“You okay, princess?” one of them says, steadying me as I sway. “You look like you need a ride.”

“I’m fine,” I mumble, trying to pull away. But my limbs feel like jelly, and my vision keeps doubling.

“Nah, come on,” the other one says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “We’ll get you home safe.”

Everything inside me screams no, but my mouth is slow, my body slower. Before I know it, they’re guiding me toward a black SUV parked in the shadows.

“Wait,” I whisper, panic bubbling up. “Stop—”

But they don’t.

The door swings open, and I’m shoved inside, half-falling onto the seat. My pulse is a wild drumbeat, my head spinning.

“Let’s go,” one of them snaps.

That’s when it happens.

A blur of motion—fast, lethal. A crack of bone, a grunt of pain. Shouts.

The man nearest me is yanked out of the car so fast I barely register it. The other one lunges, but a fist slams into his face, dropping him instantly.

I blink up, heart racing, and I see him.

Zasha.

Dressed in black, eyes cold and cutting, moving with brutal efficiency. I’ve seen him before, always in the background of my father’s meetings. Silent. Dangerous.

But I’ve never seen him like this.

He turns to me, kneels down, and grips my arms firmly but carefully. “Mara.”

I gasp, tears springing to my eyes. “Zasha…”

“You’re safe now,” he says, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. His eyes scan my face, my body, checking for damage. “Can you stand?”

I nod, shaking.

He helps me out of the car, one arm around me, shielding me as his men rush in to handle the rest. The kidnappers are dragged away, screaming. Sirens wail in the distance.

Zasha never lets go of me.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs.

The ride is quiet. I press my forehead to the cool window, eyes blurry with tears, heart still hammering. Zasha sits beside me, silent and watchful, his presence a fortress.

When we pull up to my house, the gates are already wide open. Lights blaze. Security swarms.

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