Page 175 of Ruined Vows
He stares at me and cups my face.
“You sure?” His voice is low, as if he’s afraid he’s not worthy.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sure. I don’t know how because I was on birth control. You must have superhuman sperm, and science is irrelevant.”
He lets out this sharp, almost disbelieving breath. Then he pulls me into him so hard I forget how to breathe.
His forehead rests against mine, and for a second, there’s no plan. No strategy. No kill list. No war. Just us and this miracle growing inside me.
“Wow,” he whispers. “My baby. Our baby. Tiny feet running down these dusty halls that have been too quiet for too damn long.”
I wrap my arms around him like it’s the only thing keeping me standing, and truth be told? It is.
“You really should consider wearing my ring because I’m never letting you go. You’re my everything,” he says.
But instead of settling into life together, someone wants to kill him, and that takes precedent over us for now. He has to get his house in order so there will be a future for our child.
And I worry that this is just the calm before the storm.
56
BIANCA
WRONG FUCKING MOVE
The blast throws me off my feet.
One second, I’m stepping out of the shelter, breathing in the cool morning air. The next?—
Exploding glass and fire, followed by screams
The ground bucks under me. My ears ring. My knees slam into the pavement, palms scraped raw as I scramble to shield my belly without even thinking.
Someone’s yelling—Joanne? A child wailing from inside?
I force my head up; my vision is swimming, and I see the car across the street engulfed in flames, black smoke clawing at the sky like an ominous tower of retribution.
If I had taken one more step… If Joanne had parked on the other side of the curb… If the kid in my arms hadn’t begged for one more story… I would have been in the vehicle.
I taste blood in my mouth, but rage curdles in my throat. He would’ve killed me. They would’ve killed my baby. Joanne could’ve died, not to mention the fact that the kids might have been injured.
And for what? A warning? A scare? No. This was an act of unforgivable cowardice. This wasn’t a message. It was an attempton my life. It’s direct and messy. I give Milan points on that, but now I’m pissed. This is personal.
I stand on shaky legs, my eyes are burning as ash falls, and people rush to help. None of them matter right now.
Only one thing matters.
Milan. He did this. He came for me— he came forus.
I might be in a glass tower, but now the glass has been forged into a blade.
And now, I want his fucking corpse on my doorstep by noon.
Vukan’s voice is in my head—he knew Radovan’s death wasn’t the end of the feud. He’s always calculated and ten steps ahead—but not today. Today, our enemy tried to end me—to end us.
This is no longer a war of words and innuendos. This isn’t about chess pieces, power moves, or political alliances.
Milan brought this to me, and now it’s personal.
