Page 147 of Ruined Vows
Neither of us spoke again for some time, letting the shared quiet talk for us. I’ve never been one for silence when there’s nothing I can say that’s helpful. But this is that moment.
I see him. Not the mafia heir. Not the ruthless tactician. Not the gray-eyed enemy who’s stalked my mind since the moment we met.
I see a man. A trained, scarred man who’s lost so much. And still, he offered me a piece of himself with no threats or forced seduction. I rub my hand over his warm one. And for the first time since this deal began, I’m not trying to win. I’m just trying not to losehimbecause I don’t want to walk away. Not anymore.
Now, I know his silence isn’t emptiness. It’s the echo ofeverything he’s lost. This is why he was good with the kids in the shelter, why he donated to the Adopt a Dog program, and why Meatball is walking in his house.
I’ll never ask him to give me more than he already has.
Because this— sitting with him, knowing what he’s been through and that we’re still here, iseverything.
And I’m giving my heart to this man, piece by piece.
43
BIANCA
SAFE ENOUGH TO FALL
The darkness wraps around me like chains—thick, suffocating, and relentless.
“Amara! No! Please!” I scream, reaching out blindly, my voice raw and ripping through the darkness. I see her being dragged away, hear her screams tearing the air apart.
Then the gunshot. Sharp. Final.
I watch Stefano fall. Blood spurts. His head becomes a bloody stump.
I jolt awake with a strangled cry, clawing at the sheets, my heart is hammering so hard it hurts. I can’t breathe. I don’t know where I am. I’m thrashing about when I hear a familiar voice.
“Bianca.” It’s steady and low, but enough to cut through the fog. “You’re safe. I’m here. I got you.”
Warm hands find me in the dark, cupping my face, and they rouse my sleep. I blink wildly, and through the dimness, I see him—Vukan. His eyes lock on mine, dark and fierce but unwavering. It’s the look of a man who has his own nightmares and understands mine.
It’s comforting, and without thinking, I reach for him, clinging like he’s the only solid thing left in a world that keeps mesafe. His skin burns warm under my palms, his heartbeat is heavy against my fingertips.
“It was real,” I choke out, my voice splintered. “I was back there. I couldn’t stop it. Amara—Stefano?—”
“I know,” he murmurs, pulling me close. His arms wrap around me, sure and solid, like he can hold back the nightmares clawing at the edges of my mind. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me. You’re safe. It will pass.”
I bury my face against his chest, breathing him in—leather and something darker only he carries. His heartbeat thuds beneath my ear, anchoring me, and oddly, it drowns out the echoes of screams and gunfire that haunt me.
“It never stops,” I whisper, barely audible. “It’s like my mind won’t let me move on.”
He tips my chin up, his thumb brushing away tears I didn’t realize were falling. The touch is soft. Devastating.
“It’s trauma. It never quite leaves. You’re stronger than this,” he says, voice rough with conviction. “Stronger than the darkness, just remember always to seek out the light, Sreco.”
The way he looks at me... Like I’m something worth saving. Worth fighting for.
I’m not supposed to need anyone, not after everything, not after the blood, the betrayals, the constant war to stay breathing.
But with Vukan—it’s different. He’s different.
And I trust him.
He doesn’t just hold me to comfort me—he carries and comforts me, like tonight. He doesn’t care if my past is messy; he takes all of it and accepts me, without flinching. I don’t think anything about me will ever scare him. He’s not the type of man who leaves.
And I realize—with a sharp, terrifying clarity—that I don’t want him to go.
