Page 13 of Tattooed Vow

“Dimitri—”

The line goes dead.

I stand frozen for a moment, and then instinct takes over. I scroll through my contacts and hit Talia's number, needing the comfort of the one person who has never let me down.

“Hey, sis,” she answers, her voice light and familiar in a world that has suddenly gone sideways.

“Talia, I—” I choke on the words, then force them out. “I was chased. Three men tried to grab me. One of them said someone named Morozov wants me breathing.”

Talia gasps and then swears softly. “Are you hurt?” she asks, concern thick in her voice.

“No, I got away. Barely. I called Dimitri and he insists on coming over.”

Talia goes quiet for a few seconds. When she speaks again, her voice is different, grave in a way I’ve rarely heard. “Listen to me. Dimitri will keep you safe. He will move heaven and hell if he has to. You need to do exactly what he tells you to do. And I'm going to talk to Aleksandr.”

“Talia, I don’t like this. I don’t want some mafia-style lockdown?—”

“This isn’t about liking it!” she shrieks, her voice trembling. “I’ve lived in this world longer than you. Trust me, Dimitri is the only thing standing between you and whatever nightmare this Morozov guy has planned. Do what he says. Please, sis.”

The raw fear in her voice chills me more than the chase. Talia, who laughs in the face of danger and never backs down from anything, is terrified.

I close my eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Okay.” Even if it goes against every stubborn bone in my body.

“Stay safe. Love you,” Talia replies, ending the call.

I move through the apartment on autopilot, checking the locks on the windows, drawing the blinds, and filling a glass with water I can't bring myself to drink. I go to my bedroom to retrieve my baseball bat and hold onto it with a death grip.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a sharp knock at my door. I check the peephole, though I already know who it is. Dimitri stands in the hallway, his powerful frame tense, eyes scanning every shadow. I open the door and find him dressed in all black, a gun barely concealed beneath his jacket.

He steps in like he owns the place, his eyes cataloging every corner and possible entry point. I notice his gaze on the fire escape outside my window and the flimsy lock.

I fold my arms across my chest defiantly. “I don't want protection.”

He locks the door, testing the bolt like he doesn’t trust the strength of the metal. “You’ll take it anyway.”

“I'm not some fragile damsel you have to save,” I shout, turning away from him, hating how his presence fills the room.

“I know,” he agrees, grabbing my elbow and spinning me to face him. His eyes are dark with concern, his touch gentle despite the urgency in his voice. “That's exactly why you're in more danger than you realize. You won't run, you'll fight. And you're outnumbered.”

I hate that he’s right. The lingering adrenaline finally gives way to exhaustion that settles into my bones like lead.

Without another word, Dimitri moves to the couch and sits down, adjusting the cushion like he’s settling in for the night.

“You’re sleeping there?” I ask.

“Where else would I be?” he replies, his voice softer than expected.

I stand there for a second, watching him, my stomach knotting. It’s surreal having him in my tiny apartment, in this space that’s supposed to be mine. And yet, with him here, it doesn’t feel invaded. It feels anchored.

I turn away, walking down the short hallway to my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door but don’t lock it. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing. My hands tremble as I try to process everything—the attack, the fear, Dimitri on my couch. And the part of me that isn't afraid at all. The part that feels safer with him here. I hate how badly I want him close. How much I don't want him to leave.

My gaze wanders to the worn photo frame on my nightstand. Years ago, Talia and I were grinning like idiots in front of my tiny walk-up apartment, the first real home I ever had.

I think about all the places I’ve slept before that. The rotation of cold, impersonal foster homes. The cracked ceilings and stained mattresses. The whispered threats from strangers who only took me in for the paycheck. Every time I tried to settle somewhere, it got ripped away before I could trust it.

Talia is the only person I truly trust. She’s the only one who sees me, scars and all, and stays anyway. She doesn’t try to change me or make me softer. She gives me space when I need it, and stands close when I don’t know I do. And in my own stubborn way, I love her for it. I care for her the best way I know, mothering herthrough heartbreaks and sleepless nights while she quietly gives me the kind of steady love and stability I never thought I'd have.

And now there’s Dimitri.

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