Page 100 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Pavel

Liya keeps staring at the door.

She seems to be expecting something—or she’s simply coming down from the massive surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins since we left the penthouse.

As she blinks herself back to reality, I unwind the tie from my fingers and start checking my body for wounds. No lashes. No holes. No blood. I’m intact.

I can’t say the same for Kiril.

Hurt inches its way to the surface.

His sacrifice weighs on me in ways I haven’t experienced. Pure, unadulterated commitment glowed from him as he stepped out of the car with my gun in his hands. In that moment, I couldn’t have asked for a more dedicated brigadier than him.

He was already dead, yet he embraced death honorably and fearlessly.

I take a deep breath and release it slowly. The blazer feels too hot for this room. I drop it from my shoulders and unbutton my dress shirt, the gesture making it easier to breathe. Sweat pools under my arms, and I ignore the irritating sensation of the fabric sticking to my skin.

My wingtips glisten with rain. I lift my pant leg and reveal the second holster on my body, hosting one of my spare guns. When I check the other leg, the third holster is gone.

Looks like this is our only way out if things get hairy.

The desk creaks. I notice Liya sitting on the wood with her legs tucked under her. The rain flicks the window behind her, creating a soft haze in the room. She holds her head in her hands.

The crown is getting heavy, isn’t it?

The room is smaller than Dmitri’s office, cozier. I’m but a few steps away from my wife. Though it should comfort us both, I can’t shake the chill from the rain. The cloudy window behind Liya lights up with flashes of white, illuminating her shadowy figure in the dim light.

Her head snaps up when thunder booms. And then, her tired eyes observe our surroundings.

“The last day of my life was here,” she whispers. “Not this office, but…” She looks at the left wall.

A chair sits near a bookshelf stacked with old file boxes. Dmitri loves his paper system. Easier to destroy. It’s what Kolya is doing now.

Orwasdoing.

I don’t even know if he’s still alive.

When I drop into the chair, Liya looks at me.

“You don’t have to worry about your old life anymore,” I remind her. “You’ll never have to come back here again.”

Something that resembles a smile flickers over her mouth. But it’s not a sweet smile. It’s not entertained. It’s not amused. There’s no relief in it. Behind the smile is something sinister, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“That’s not what I mean,” she says.

I stare back at her quietly.

“It was the last day of my life,” she explains slowly. “Because if the old Liya saw me now, she would run away as far as she could.”

My brows dip together. I close the distance in a few short steps and embrace her, tangling my fingers in her hair. She’s soaked through her clothes. But she doesn’t seem to care.

I care. I care for her more than I ever planned.

And nothing is stopping me from caring about her now.

“I’m truly sorry for dragging you into this world,rodnaya,” I whisper.

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