Page 40 of Crushed Vow
I went still.
“That’s why your father wanted you to marry Luca so badly. Why he lost control and slapped you on your wedding day when you said ‘I do’ to me instead.”
My breath caught.
He needed a Moretti. Any Moretti. But he preferred Luca—someone he could control. Someone who’d hand over the vault once it was unlocked and then discard you like nothing.”
My stomach twisted. “So Luca doesn’t want me. He wants the key.”
Cassian’s voice dropped, deadly calm. “Exactly. Marry you. Unlock the vault. Cut you loose.”
“And the Bratva?”
“They’re backing the play now. Your father. Luca. The Bratva. And Vincent, apparently. All tied together. They want what’s under that estate—and you’re the final piece.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Cassian...” My voice shook. “What are we going to do?”
“If they’re planning to take you—” his jaw clenched—“I’ll burn every last one of them. I don’t care if it starts a war. I don’t care who I have to kill.”
I looked away.
My voice came out hoarse. “Luca said you couldn’t afford to fight the Volkov bratva. That the Morettis signed a treaty with the Volkov Bratva ten years ago. That you’re neutral.”
He nodded once. “We are. My father signed that pact to keep our blood off the streets. To protect what we built. But if they’re coming for you—” he turned, voice low—“then the treaty dies with them. I’ll drag theminto hell before I let them lay another finger on you. I’ll raze their kingdom to the ground.”
He stood and offered his hand. “Come. Let’s get out of here.”
I took it, more from exhaustion than trust.
Back at the estate.
The silence of the drive home gave me too much space to think. The weight of what I’d learned coiled tighter around my ribs.
As we stepped into the house, I turned to him. “Did you kill Luca?”
“No,” he said calmly. “But I took two of his fingers. Snapped his wrist. Crushed his knee. I saw what he did to you. What he tried. If he touches you again, I’ll bury him alive.”
My heart pounded. Not from fear. From the part of me that wanted justice. That needed it.
He added, voice steel-cut, “I already had the security feed pulled. I watched the footage. Every frame. And I swear to you,Charlotte, if anyone so much as thinks of hurting you again, they’ll vanish.”
I swallowed. “Don’t make promises you didn’t make back then.”
His face twisted. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m not that man anymore.”
I stepped back. “You’re still the man who mocked my scars.”
That landed like a punch.
He flinched. “I was a coward,” he said hoarsely. “And a cruel one. I’ve been trying every day to undo it. But I know—I know I don’t deserve forgiveness yet.”
“You don’t.”
Silence.
“Now that Vincent is found,” I whispered, “I still want the divorce. Even if you fight for me every second. Even if part of me wonders who you’ve become.”
