Page 169 of Ruined Vows
I should rage. Should scream. I should cry.
But I don’t.
I stay still. Frozen in a room that suddenly feels like a tomb because I understand what he’s doing. This is what love looks like for a man like him. It’s not filled with flowers or confessions—just sacrifice.
And I hate that it has to be this way. But even more, I hate the part that wants him to return.
Because that’s the part I can’t control. And if he dies out there… I won’t have to give it to him.
But if he lives, then everything changes.
And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. All I know is that I want to see him again and that I miss him terribly when he’s gone.
Vukan
The night air tastes like metal and gasoline.
I crouch behind the abandoned sedan, scanning the crumbling warehouse across the street.
Radovan’s inside.
I feel it.
Luka moves to my left, silent, ghostlike. Dragan’s covering the rear, his rifle steady.
David’s voice crackles softly in my earpiece.
“Target inside. Second floor. Two guards at the back entrance. Cameras on the east side are already dead.”
I tap twice against the mic. Acknowledged. I tighten my grip on the pistol in my hand. Every part of me hums with focus. With purpose.
This isn’t about bloodlust. This isn’t about revenge. It’s abouther.
Bianca’s face flashes through my mind—her eyes full of trust, her body pressed against mine, the way she whispered,Come back to me.
I will.
I fucking will.
But first, Radovan dies.
53
BIANCA
A NEW BEGINNING
I’ve been moved back to the mansion. I don’t know what it means. Meatball greets me, and I’ve missed him. Irina hugs me to her and it makes me feel better. In a sense, she’s the mother I never had.
She doesn’t spend her energy on useless words just to hear herself speak. No, she’s an old soul, like Vukan. Her words have purpose.
I notice extra guards and reinforced gates. Locked-down halls that echo when I walk through them. The air feels too quiet, too tense—like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
Irina brought me tea in bed this morning, along with dry toast and crackers that don’t settle my stomach. The nausea started three days ago, and I haven’t told anyone yet.
Not even him. Not that I’ve had the chance.
After I dress, I head to the upstairs library to look out the windows, trying to hold myself together, hoping he is coming home any minute.
