Page 168 of Ruined Vows
Because Bianca watches me from across the room, silent, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something inside that might break free.
I can feel her eyes on me and the weight of everything she’s not saying.
I secure the last strap, turn to leave?—
“Vukan,” she says, voice soft but fierce.
I stop instantly.
She crosses the room to me, quick and sure, and grabs my wrist. Her fingers are trembling. She tries to hide it, but I feel it.
She looks up at me, her eyes burning with something that slices me open without mercy.
“I know you have to do this,” she says, voice low and tight. “I know you’re not doing it, so we’ll be free.”
I touch her face, cradling her jaw in my palm. “I’m doing it for you.”
“I’m not asking you to stay,” she whispers. “But you have to promise me you’ll come back.” She must love me because a tear slips free.
I lean in, my forehead resting against hers. Our breath mingles, fast and uneven.
“I swear it,” I say. “Nothing keeps me from you. Nothing.”
She surges up, her hands tangling in my shirt, and kisses me. It’s not sweet. It’s not soft. It’s desperate. Fierce.
A claim. A prayer. A battle cry.
I kiss her back like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, pouring every ounce of love, rage, need into her, into this moment, this tether between us.
When we finally break apart, she presses her hand to my chest, right over my heart.
“Come back to me, Vukan,” she whispers.
“I will,” I vow. My voice is rough, shaking with everything I feel. “Always.”
I press one last kiss to her forehead, then tear myself away before I lose the strength to walk out the door.
Because now, it’s not just my life I’m fighting for.
It’sours.
And I’ll tear Radovan’s whole world down to protect it.
Bianca
He’s gone. He left to end Radovan. The enemy. But how many more are lined up behind him?
When I reach for him, the bed is cold —the kind of cold that says he left hours ago, not minutes.
At first, I think it’s a mistake. That he’s in the shower, down the hall, pacing in the next room.
But then I see the note. Folded. Tucked into the pillow where he’d last been breathing beside me.
Wait for me. One more date. One more night. I’ll come back for it. For you.
My chest tightens. Not because it’s romantic. It isn’t. It’s a goodbye disguised as a promise. A man’s attempt to spare me the blood he knows is coming.
I sit on the edge of the bed and reread the words. Then again. I don’t even see them the third time—I just hear his voice saying them.
