Page 177 of Ruined Vows
Ilove him, and I’m all in. His fight is my fight. We argued about my fighting with him.
But he’s adamant that this is his mess to clean up. Reluctantly, I accept his decision to stand down.
I found him in the basement and saw that the weapons locker was open, crates already emptied. He’s strapping a shoulder holster on like he’s gearing up for the end of the world.
Maybe he is.
His jaw’s tight, expression unreadable—every line of him carved from steel. Focused. Ruthless. A machine designed to destroy whatever hurts me.
But I can’t let him walk out that door without knowing what he’s walking back to.
“Vukan,” I say softly. He doesn’t look up right away—he’s halfway through loading a fresh magazine. The sound clicks loudly in the stillness.
“Vukan.” His head lifts. And just like that, it’s not a war room anymore. It’s just us. He crosses the space in two long strides, gun forgotten.
“What is it, Princess?”
I almost can’t say it. My hands twist together in front of me. That alone makes his eyes narrow. I don’t fidget. Not unless something’s wrong.
“You’re not just fighting for yourself anymore,” I remind him.
He cups my face in both hands, thumbs brushing away what’s left of the fear in my expression.
“I’m going to ruin him,” he says—calm, final. “Then I’m coming back. To you. And to our child. That’s a promise.”
I nod, tears burn behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
He kisses me—hard like a goodbye— an ending, and a beginning all in one.
And then he turns, picks up the gun, and walks out.
I want to cry, but I don’t.
He’ll return. Right?
He promised he’ll return and is a man of his word.
And Milan? He doesn’t know it yet, but he didn’t just go after the woman Vukan Petrovic loves—he went after his family.
And that’s thelastmistake he’ll ever make.
58
VUKAN
WITH MY HANDS…
They never learn.
There’s always one more man who thinks he can play king. Always another name clawing for relevance, desperate to wear a crown he didn’t earn.
This one’s Milan. My uncle in blood only. A man who clung to Radovan’s coat like a parasite, and thinks that makes him a threat.
It doesn’t.
He wanted attention. He got it.
He bombed a parking lot at midday, a stone’s throw from the children’s shelter. No deaths, but the message was clear:You’re not safe. Even here.
