Page 56 of Tattooed Vow

I should run.If Morozov’s men have found Nick, they can already be inside. But I can’t move or tear my eyes from Nick's pale face. Seconds drag into minutes, and before I know what is happening, paramedics swarm around us, pushing me aside.

“Miss, are you hurt?” one asks while the others work on Nick, cutting away his shirt, attaching monitors, calling out medical terms I don’t understand.

“N-no,” I stammer. “Is he...?”

“We're doing everything we can,” the paramedic says, which wasn't an answer.

They load Nick onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his face. As they wheel him out, I follow in a daze, my clothes and hands stained crimson.

Strong hands seize me from behind as I reach the doorway. I struggle instinctively until a familiar voice growls in my ear.

“Stop fighting.”

Dimitri.

I turn in his grip, shock and relief warring within me. His face is carved from stone, and his eyes are flat and cold as they scan the chaos around us. Behind him are two of his men, weapons visible beneath their jackets.

“How—” I begin.

“Later,” he cuts me off, already moving us toward the back exit, his body shielding mine. “We need to go. Now.”

Outside, a black SUV idles in the alley, engine running. Dimitri all but throws me into the backseat, sliding in beside me as his men take the front. The vehicle lurches into motion before the doors fully close.

Only then does Dimitri turn to me, his expression darkening as he takes in the blood covering my hands and clothes.

“Are you hurt?” he demands, hands already moving over me, checking for injuries.

“N-no,” I stammer. “It's Nick's blood. He was shot right in front of me. The ambulance just took him.”

“I know.” His jaw tightens. “And they would have shot you too if we hadn't arrived when we did.”

Reality crashes over me like a wave. “How did you find me?”

“Talia.” His voice is dangerously soft. “She called me the moment you left the mansion. Said you were meeting your ex-boyfriend who claimed to have information about Morozov and the Butcher.”

“But that was barely an hour ago. I told her she had two hours before?—”

“Before what? Before she could warn me that the woman I care about had decided to make herself a target?” Anger flashes in his eyes with a hint of fear. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” he growls.

I do. I just saw it happen to Nick. And the knowledge that might die with him...

“Dimitri, Nick works for Morozov,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. “He said the Red Hook operation is a trap. The Butcher knows—it’s an ambush. He’s waiting for you.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes—sharp and calculating. “Did he say how they found out?”

“No. He was just about to tell me when...” My throat tightens. “When he was shot. We need to get to the hospital. He might know who the mole is in your organization.”

Without hesitation, Dimitri pulls out his phone and dials. “Aleksandr,” he says flatly, then launches into a rapid stream of Russian. I can’t make out most of it—only fragments.Red Hook. Butcher.

When he ends the call, he gives a clipped nod to the driver. “Brooklyn Memorial. Fast.”

The SUV veers sharply, tires humming against the pavement as we change direction. Dimitri turns to me, gaze sharp.

“After I’m dropped off at the hospital, you’re going back to the mansion.”

“No—Dimitri, I have to go with you. Nick will talk to me. He’ll?—”

A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest. I freeze, the sound cutting through my words like a blade.

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