Page 175 of Bratva's Vow
Right.
It should be.
I would never forgive myself for Vova’s death.
The hallway was red with bloody footprints, crimson trails from where Archie had dragged himself, smeared handprints on the wall like art made by a dying man.
I found him a few feet from the door, his body heaving, one hand outstretched like he might still make it out.
“You won’t make it far.”
He froze.
Turned his head.
Saw what I was carrying.
His expression crumbled, and for the first time, a flicker of fear flashed across his face. “Maxim, please. I can still stop everything from happening.”
“This is for Vova,” I said. “He had nothing to do with this, and you fucking killed him.”
“I’m sorry! Max?—”
I brought the hammer down.
Bone cracked.
“Oh god, Maxim, please, have mercy!”
And again.
Flesh gave. Screams mingled with the sickening thuds, but the irreversible sound of death crawled closer and closer.
“Maxim!”
Hands gripped me from behind, tried to yank the sledgehammer from my blood-slick fingers. My chest heaved. My heart pounded like I’d run a marathon. My arms trembled.
Darius stood over me, his face green. I followed his gaze to the floor. To what was left of him.
Archie was a thing now. A flattened, unrecognizable mess. And I was covered in his blood. On my face, my hands, splashed across my clothing.
I’d done it.
I’d destroyed him.
He couldn’t hurt Wren anymore.
The hammer hit the floor with a dull, final clang. My arms ached.
“Get rid of it,” I said hoarsely. “All of it.”
Darius nodded, already pulling out his phone.
I turned and staggered back, stepping through blood like it was water.
I needed to catch a flight.
I needed to see Wren before he woke up and found out I’d broken my promise.
