Page 77 of Deceptive Vows
NAZAR
Outside,snow began to fall, delicate flakes drifting lazily from a pearl-gray sky. Thea laughed as one landed on her lashes. Her joy at that moment was so genuine that it pierced my heart. The photographer captured the image—my bride’s face lifted to the winter sky, my eyes fixed only on her.
We moved toward the waiting car, accepting congratulations from guests who had spilled out onto the church steps.
Gabriele passed by, offering a cold smile. “Congratulations.” His voice was smooth with practiced charm. “A beautiful ceremony.”
“Thank you for coming,” I replied evenly, my arm tightening protectively around Thea’s waist.
Ilya held the door as we slid into the back seat of the sleek black limousine. Thea arranged her dress carefully, the ivory silk pooling around her like water. As the door closed, I felt a momentary sense of peace—a brief sanctuary in the eye of the storm that surrounded us.
“Wife,” I said softly, testing the word on my tongue.
She turned to me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Husband.”
A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying lifted from my shoulders. Whatever came next, Marco, the Gray Wolves, the auction, we would face it together.
Her lips turned down and the momentary reprieve was over.
She turned her back to me, and glanced over her shoulder. "I need to get dressed."
Just as I went to help her with her dress, I realized something was wrong. We'd taken a slight deviation from the expected route.
I straightened, scanning the passing streets withgrowing unease.
“What is it?” Thea asked, instantly alert to the change in my posture.
“We’re heading west,” I said quietly.
The drive to the reception should’ve taken no more than ten minutes.
Her eyes narrowed as she verified my observation. “Lykos is east.” Without another word, she reached into her bodice, pulling out a slim blade.
I pressed the intercom button. “Ilya, you’ve made a wrong turn. The venue is in the opposite direction.”
No response. The privacy screen remained firmly in place.
"The driver is one of your guys?" Thea asked.
I nodded, jaw tight. "He's driven for us for years. I should have?—"
She shook her head. "Don't. Knowing Marco…"
"More likely the Gray Wolves," I growled. "He's as good as dead. Now that they know he can be bought, he's a liability. He'll be dead before we are."
I tried the door handle—locked. The windows, bulletproof by my own specification for the wedding transportation, wouldn’t lower.
“Panic switch,” I muttered, reaching beneath the seat—and froze.
It wasn’t there. Just smooth upholstery.
I met Thea’s gaze. “This isn’t one of our cars. It’s been switched." I unholstered my Makarov and checked the magazine. I also knew I wouldn't need to take revenge. The Wolves would take care of their own.
Her expression hardened as she processed the betrayal. "Who?"
"We'll find out when we get through that divider."
The car accelerated sharply, throwing us back against the seats. We were moving rapidly now, weaving through traffic with alarming speed.
