Page 126 of Bratva's Vow
“You need food.” Nik still eyed me with that big-brother scrutiny that made me both grateful and annoyed. “You eat anything yet?”
“I was gonna try,” I said. “But I think my stomach has other plans.”
“Well, plan B.” He nudged me toward the kitchen. “We’ll start with toast and work our way up.”
I nodded, the movement slight and slow, and we walked side by side down the hall.
My legs felt heavier than usual. Not sore. Just… drained. Like every step required more thought than it should. But I kept pace with Nik, our steps echoing quietly on the tile as we turned the corner.
If he noticed that I leaned slightly toward the wall or held my hand against the cool surface a moment longer than necessary, he didn’t say anything.
And I was grateful for that.
I followed Nik into the kitchen, the warm scent of sautéed onions and toasted bread wrapping around me like a hug I didn’t quite have the energy to return.
Pilar stood at the stove, her back straight and movements graceful as she plated food with quiet care. She’d arranged a full breakfast on the marble island. Scrambled eggs fluffed to perfection, slices of avocado fanned out beside toast, turkey bacon crisp and glistening. As we entered, she turned, offering me a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
“Wren,” she said gently, “how are you feeling? I made something light, easy on the stomach.”
I smiled back, or tried to. “Thank you, Pilar. And thanks for the juice. That helped.”
Her eyes softened. “You’re welcome. Sit. Eat a little. Even if it’s just a bite.”
I lowered myself onto one of the stools, the cool metal pressing against the backs of my legs as I sat, blinking hard to stay grounded. Everything smelled good—too good. The kind of good that made my stomach roll all over again.
I picked up a fork, stabbed a bit of egg, and then set it back down with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.” My stomach was too upset.
Pilar frowned. “Would you like some ginger tea instead? I can make it quickly.”
“No, it’s okay. Really.” I met her eyes. “Thank you. For everything. You’ve made the past few days bearable for me and Maxim.”
Nik leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I still think we should get you checked out. Better safe than sorry, Wren.”
A loud crash sounded. The sharp sound of ceramic shattering against tile.
Pilar stood frozen, wide-eyed, a broken plate at her feet. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick it up, murmuring something soft under her breath.
I pushed to my feet. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Maxim won’t even notice.”
Pilar’s eyes darted up at me, something unreadable flickering there like fear. I got it. Maxim could be intense.
“Really,” I said gently. “It’s just a plate.”
Nik was already crouching to help her clean up. I grabbed my bag, tossed one last look at the untouched breakfast, and turned toward the door.
“See you later, Pilar. Thanks again for everything.”
She nodded silently, brushing ceramic shards into a dustpan.
We stepped outside into the morning light. It was bright but not warm, the chill cutting through my hoodie.
“You sure you don’t want to stop at the hospital?” Nik opened the car door for me. “With Maxim’s name, they’d look after you quickly.”
“That’s a bit too dramatic for a stomach bug. Come on. If we don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”
For the first few minutes, we rode in silence. I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the city blur past in streaks of green and gray. My stomach churned, not as violently now, but a quiet, persistent warning like an engine low on oil.
“Nik?” I asked after a while, not moving from where I was slumped.
