Page 81 of Tattooed Vow

Yuri flings the SUV door open and pulls me inside. I tumble across the backseat like a ragdoll. The second the door slams shut, Viktor collapses into the passenger seat, his breathing ragged, his lips tight with pain.

Through the rear window, I see Dimitri still moving, firing, closing the distance between him and the retreating gunmen like death incarnate. He doesn’t flinch when a bullet whizzes past his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate when the van peels away with a screech of tires. He keeps going, chasing them until they disappear into traffic.

“Drive!” Viktor barks, his voice hoarse.

The SUV roars to life, and Yuri doesn’t waste a second. We speed out of the lot, tires screeching, and the city swallows us whole as we weave through lanes and red lights. My hands are trembling uncontrollably. My mouth is dry.

I fumble with my phone, my thumb shaking as I hit Dimitri’s name.

He answers on the first ring. “Are you hurt?” His voice is sharp, hard, barely human.

“We’re okay,” I say, but it comes out in a whisper. “Viktor’s hit, but he’s alive. Where are you?”

“Close. Go straight to the estate. Don’t stop for anything.”

“Be careful,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I clutch the phone like it’s the only thing tethering me to him. “Please.”

“I’m coming,” Dimitri growls. “I swear to God, I’m not letting anything happen to you. Or our child.”

Tears well in my eyes, hot and unrelenting. I end the call before my voice cracks, and I say something I can’t take back.

Viktor turns slightly, grimacing. “I’m sorry, Miss Davis,” he rasps. “I should’ve been more alert.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say automatically, but the truth burned in my gut like acid. Morozov knew exactly where we’d be. Someone told him.

My arms wrap protectively around my middle. I stare out the window as the buildings flash by. The world looks the same—people walking dogs, sipping coffee, talking on phones. But everything has changed.

By the time we reach the estate, word of the attack has already spread. Aleksandr is waiting at the door, his expression a storm of fury barely contained. Talia rushes forward, engulfing me in her arms before leading me to the sitting room. She settles me on the sofa and presses a glass of brandy into my hands.

“Just a sip,” she says when I hesitate. “For the shock.”

I take the smallest taste, the alcohol burning a path down my throat.

“He knew,” I mutter. “Morozov knew about the pregnancy. He knew exactly where I’d be.”

“How?” Talia whispers, the color draining from her cheeks.

“Someone told him,” Aleksandr hisses, his jaw clenched. “Looks like he’s gotten his hands on someone feeding him important information.”

“Another mole?” I ask, setting the brandy glass on the small table beside me with a softclink.

“Not necessarily,” Aleksandr replies, his tone clipped. “We have intel that Morozov’s been sinking his claws into other Bratva families. The leak could be coming from there.”

He drags a hand down his face, frustration carved into every movement, then pulls out his phone. “I’ll have Lev start digging. We need to find the source of the leak.”

Dimitri bursts into the room, his gaze locking onto mine with a force that steals my breath. He closes the distance between us in three long strides, pulling me to my feet. His arms wrap around me with a desperation so fierce it’s almost painful.

“How did you know?” I murmur against his chest. “How did you know this would happen?”

“I didn’t,” he insists. “I wrapped up at the warehouse and was rushing to make it in time to the appointment.” His voice cracks. “Thank God you’re okay.” The last word gets stuck in his throat.

“I’m okay. The baby’s okay,” I assure him.

“I’ll find him,” he whispers against my hair, rough and ragged. “I’ll find whoever helped him. And I’ll destroy them all.”

I see something in his eyes that should frighten me. A darkness, a capacity for violence that goes beyond anything I've witnessed from him before. But it doesn’t scare me. At that moment, I welcome it. I want Morozov to pay for the fear he put in me and for threatening our child.

“I know you will,” I say, touching his face.

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