Page 31 of Tattooed Vow

“You do.” He leans forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “You do,malyshka. And I swear, I’ll protect you no matter what it takes.”

The Russian endearment sends a shiver through me. I want to believe him, but belief means trust, and trust means vulnerability, which always comes with a price.

As I stare into his warm brown eyes, last night’s fire still burning low in my veins, I realize the truth I’ve been trying to avoid. I’m falling for him, and it scares the hell out of me.

13

DIMTRI

She sits across from me in the morning light, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, cradling her coffee mug like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the moment. Her red hair spills in loose waves over her shoulders, tinged with sunlight as it seeps gently through the cabin windows. Strands of copper shimmer like embers in the sun.

Her skin is pale, almost porcelain, and dusted with freckles, a constellation across her cheeks, and the bridge of her nose. Her lips are soft and pink, and her eyes are deep blue like the ocean at night.

I watch her, trying not to let my eyes linger too long, but it’s impossible. Every detail of her feels branded into me now.

Last night hadn’t been planned. It wasn’t strategy or weakness. It was need. Her need, and mine. It had been explosive and consuming, but we are left with something more dangerous than passion in the aftermath.

Connection.

She hasn’t spoken again after I promised to protect her, but the look in her eyes says enough. She doesn’t trust it yet. She doesn’t trust me.

And I don’t blame her.

Her story haunted me. Foster homes, violence, a childhood stolen by addiction and neglect. I know the shape of those wounds. Mine looked different, but they bled the same. I grew up surrounded by power and ruthlessness, perpetually defending my worth to Otets, who only saw value in control and obedience.

And yet, I’d had more than she did. She had no one except Talia.

And now, maybe…me. If I don’t get her killed first.

She stands to rinse her plate, brushing past me with a whispered, “Thanks for breakfast.”

I almost reach out. Almost stop her. But the words I want to say won’t come.

Instead, I watch her go, every cell in my body aware of how much I want her to stay.

When she disappears into the hallway, I drop my head into my hands, tugging the ends of my hair. The strain of everything closes in, solid and unrelenting like concrete. Morozov. The danger to the family and the tightening circle of threats.

Andher.

I’d had women before. Lovers. Allies. Distractions. But Sandy isn’t like them. She isn’t easy. She isn’t soft. She’s fire, grit, and willpower forged in survival. She’d clawed out of the dark and still looked at me like I was worth something.

But I’m not. I’m a man shaped by violence. A son of the Bratva, born into blood and legacy. I’d done things. Bad things. And somehow, she makes me want to believe I’m not just the monster they’d made me into. She sees parts of me no one else ever had.

And that sends a chill straight through me.

I stare at my hands, calloused and scarred. Hands that had broken bones, pulled triggers, and drove knives into flesh. Hands that had, just hours ago, traced the contours of her body with a gentleness I didn't know I possessed. The contradiction tears at me. I’m two people now. The enforcer my father had molded, and the man Sandy is somehow uncovering beneath the rubble.

The coffee is cold in my mug. I drink it anyway, bitter and stale, a fitting punishment for the confusion clouding my judgment. I’m compromised. Vulnerable. In our world, vulnerability is weakness, and weakness gets you killed.

I glance at my phone. No messages from Aleksandr. No new intelligence on Morozov's movements. The silence feels like the quiet before an ambush.

Outside, a blue jay calls sharply, breaking the stillness. The clock on the wall ticks steadily, measuring time that feels endless and too short. The safehouse is secure for now, but I know better than to trust it. In my experience, safety is an illusion, a temporary state that can shatter at any moment.

She returns to the room slowly, arms wrapped around herself like armor. “I’m going to go for a walk. Just around the perimeter.”

I stand immediately. “I’ll go with you.”

She hesitates, then gives me a tight nod.

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