Page 136 of Bratva's Vow
But the bed was cold beside me.
Empty.
“Solnyshko?” I threw off the covers and flicked on the bedside lamp with shaking fingers.
The room lit up in a soft, honeyed glow, warm and so wrong. There was no Wren in the space next to me. Healways slept curled up against my side or tangled across my chest. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and have to turn him over gently so I could use the bathroom.
But he was gone.
I stared at the hollow impression where his body should be, and panic bloomed in my chest so fast it felt like I was still drowning in my nightmare.
My lungs forgot how to pull in air. My throat constricted like invisible hands were wringing it shut. Cold sweat slid down my spine, soaking the cotton clinging to my back. Every beat of my heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to break out of me and find him.
No. No, he wouldn’t.
He promised.
He said we were okay.
But the bed was cold. And I was alone.
My mind raced through the day to the quiet way he’d withdrawn after the funeral, the tremble in his hand when he’d reached for my arm in the car. The look in his eyes when I touched his forehead. That faint wince. How he’d not been his usual chatty self.
I’d figured the funeral might have made him sad, so I hadn’t paid much attention to the change in his demeanor. But what if it was more? Maybe he was thinking about his father and not having had a funeral for him. Maybe he was overthinking again that I was responsible for his father’s death.
I pushed off the bed too fast and nearly stumbled. My hands were already shaking. I moved on autopilot, checking the bathroom first, then the hall, every corner of the house. Each empty room only wound the panic tighter around my chest until it felt like I was wearing grief again, zipped up under my skin.
Not again. I couldn’t lose him again.
He left you again.
No. No, that wasn’t true. He made a vow that he would never leave me again. He’d forgiven me for my lies. He’d said he loved me. He wore my ring as a promise of what the future held for us. And I’d given him more space than I was truly comfortable with to make him happy.
I checked the office, the kitchen, the living room. I called his name once, then again, but only the quiet padded back to me.
Jellybean was gone as well.
Fuck, he’d even taken the dog I stole and gave him.
That was what finally cracked something open in my chest.
I grabbed my phone, pressing Sergei’s number as I stalked through the back door and down the steps onto the patio, the only place left to look. The pool shimmered under the glow of the garden lights, the water smooth as glass.
“Boss?” Sergei answered on the second ring, voice groggy.
“Wren’s gone.”
There was a beat. “What do you mean gone?”
“I woke up. He’s not in bed. Not in the house. The dog’s gone too.”
Sergei swore softly, alert now. “I’m putting eyes on the perimeter. Do you want me to ping his phone?”
I didn’t answer. My gaze swept the far end of the pool and, in the dim light, I finally saw him.
Wren.
Sitting cross-legged at the edge, the dog curled up against his thigh. His head was tilted back, face angled to the sky like he was counting the stars.
