Bratvas vow, p.12
Bratva's Vow, page 12
“Let me go!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
“Wren, stop,” Dezi grunted, trying to contain me without hurting me. “You’re only making this worse.”
“I hate you!” I roared, glaring at Maxim as he stepped out of the car with deadly calm. “I fucking hate you, Maxim!”
Maxim’s face didn’t shift. Didn’t so much as twitch. He only stared at me with something heavy and unbearably sad in his eyes.
“Your hate I can live with, solnyshko.” He softened his tone so much it was barely above a whisper. “But I could never live in a world without you in it. I’ll do whatever I see fit to keep you safe.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MAXIM
Icouldn’t stop watching him.
The live feed from the security camera played silently in the corner of my monitor, unfolding in real time like a wound that refused to close.
Wren.
Curled up on the bed, knees tucked to his chest, face half-buried in a mountain of pillows like he could hide from the world. But mostly from me.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Every small movement felt magnified. The way his shoulders trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way he clutched the blanket, fingers white-knuckled. The way he pressed his lips together until they trembled and finally parted on a sigh that made something twist painfully low in my gut.
He wasn’t sleeping.
He wasn’t eating.
He wasn’t talking to me.
He was hurting.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing but watch it happen.
Sometimes, when he’d had enough, he would cry.
The first time it happened, I’d bolted from my office and had Sergei drive me back home instantly. I nearly took the fucking door off its hinges to get to him.
For showing him I cared, he threw a painting from the wall at me. Followed by other missiles. What he threw wasn’t important. What mattered was the pure hate in his eyes. The way his voice cracked as he screamed at me to get the fuck out and never come back.
I left.
Not because I was afraid of Wren.
But because I was afraid of myself.
Afraid of what that look of betrayal did to me.
I was the Pakhan.
I’d cut men’s throats in alleys. I’d ordered executions with my coffee still hot on my desk. I’d buried enemies so deep they were nothing but forgotten names.
But Wren crying?
That shattered me in a way blood and broken bones never could.
I should’ve been strong enough to face him.
I wasn’t.
So now, I watched.
Like a fucking coward, I watched him cry on a screen instead of kneeling at his feet and begging for forgiveness. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t forgive me. How could I blame him? I was the reason his father was dead, and I’d kept it from him.
Still, I held out hope. If he’d lied to the cops for me, surely all wasn’t lost.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, my jaw tight as I forced myself to tear my gaze away from the monitor.
But it dragged me back.
Over and over again, like punishment.
The soft knock on the office door came almost as a relief.
“Come in,” I said roughly, my voice like gravel scraping against itself.
Archie stepped in, dressed in one of his usual immaculate gray suits that looked more comfortable on him than skin. He came around and placed a fresh cup of coffee I hadn’t asked for on my desk.
I’d gotten used to Wren bringing me coffee. Decaf he would insist, even when I asked him for something stronger. Because I already had trouble going to bed at night, and he slept better when I was next to him.
Archie’s gaze flicked to the monitor, and I caught the sharp pull at the corner of his mouth. Wren was still visible. Still curled up like he was shrinking away from the world.
Archie didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
I saw it in his face.
I told you so.
He still disapproved of Wren.
I held Archie’s stare for a long beat, tension stretching taut between us. Then I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my chair, nodding once.
“I know,” I muttered. “Don’t say it.”
Archie didn’t. He was smart enough to leave the silence alone. Instead, he straightened his cuffs.
“Everyone’s waiting in the conference room.”
I ran a hand through my hair, already feeling the headache blooming behind my eyes.
“Is there any word?” I asked quietly.
Archie’s face hardened. “Not yet. The chief’s still a ghost. Our sources at the precinct say he’s gone dark. No credit cards, no phone. The bastard planned this well.”
I ground my molars together so hard they ached.
Coward.
A coward who had no problem signing off on my murder like it was some backroom deal. After all I’d done for him.
He’d sent a man to kill me in public, to make a statement. That failed.
And now he was hiding.
Of course. That was what men like him did.
I rose from my chair slowly, straightening my sleeves with mechanical movements. Everything inside me felt rigid, wound up so tightly I didn’t know how I was still standing upright.
I grabbed my phone and walked to the door, but my eyes drifted, almost against my will, back to the monitor.
Back to Wren.
Still in bed. Still looking small and fragile and so far away from the boy who hung up on me because I swore at him. Or bought me a medical bracelet with his information on it for my birthday. I twisted the bracelet on my wrist.
You broke him.
That voice inside me wasn’t kind. It wasn’t forgiving. It sounded like Jess, who’d been pissed when she found out about Wren’s father. Both Nik and Darius hadn’t been able to hold her back while she screamed at me that she would have never agreed to keep my secret if she’d known the full truth.
I swallowed thickly and forced my feet to move, slamming the office door shut behind me harder than necessary.
When I entered the conference room, the buzzing conversations stopped.
Sergei stood against the far wall, arms crossed, his face tight with concern. While Nik no longer worked directly for me, he was Wren’s bodyguard, so I’d asked him to be present at all our briefings until we had Stone. We needed all hands on deck. He and Darius flanked him Sergei, looking equally grim. Archie took his place at my right side like clockwork. It didn’t feel right. That was Wren’s place.
The weight of that burned more than I cared to admit.
I didn’t sit. I planted my hands flat on the table and stared at the men assembled before me.
“No one has eyes on him yet?” I asked, my voice sharp as broken glass.
“Not yet,” Sergei said. “We’re watching his known associates. His wife’s under surveillance, but he hasn’t contacted her. His usual haunts are empty.”
“Which means that he’s smarter than we gave him credit for.”
Silence. Heavy. Loaded.
I clenched my jaw so tightly my teeth ached.
I wanted blood.
I wanted his head cracked against pavement, his body dumped in the same hole his hired killer was rotting in.
But most of all…
I wanted Wren safe.
Not just locked in his room. Not just under guard.
Safe.
Safe from men like Bradley, who thought they could use him to hurt me. If he’d cared an ounce about Wren, he wouldn’t have threatened to throw him off the roof. He’d wanted revenge, and he’d used Wren to strike one last blow before his death.
“You have one week,” I said at last, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Find him. I don’t care how. I don’t care what strings you have to pull or who you piss off. I want the chief’s face in front of me or in a casket. Otherwise, you’ll leave me with no choice but to get the brigadiers involved.”
Which was the last thing I wanted to do.
The fewer eyes on me, the better. Even among our own.
The brigadiers answered to me but not directly. That was the point of me building what seemed to be a legitimate empire on the front. It gave me contacts with people who would otherwise not be willing to shake hands. Most Pakhans liked to be seen, to flaunt their power. I’d built power in silence, kept my hands clean in public, and let Archie and Sergei be my mouthpieces when needed.
Several brigadiers might have fallen since I rose to power, but even if I was a suspect, the Feds had nothing that stuck. No photos. No names. No bodies that could point back to me with more than speculation.
And that was how I kept it.
The Bratva thrived because I did. Because I stayed off the radar. Because the empire looked fractured from the outside, a scattered beast with no head, when in truth, every move flowed through my hand.
But if it meant keeping Wren safe, I’d tear the mask off myself. I’d become that man who’d killed ruthlessly to be at the top. And all because my father had thought I was useless in the brotherhood because I enjoyed fucking another man.
I straightened, pacing a slow line behind my chair. The anger simmered beneath my skin, but so did something colder—strategy.
“We’ll also be beefing up security,” I said, voice low and deliberate. “I can’t hold Wren forever. In less than a week, he’ll have to return to campus for his classes. I want the chief to be found before then.”
Archie frowned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. You think I don’t know how this works? You think I don’t know he’ll claw his way out of that house the second I loosen my grip?” My mouth twisted. “But I also know it’ll only take one person—one—to grab him when I’m not watching. So when he goes back to campus, he goes with someone at all times. No exceptions, and if you lose him, it’ll be your head on the chopping block.”
The room went deathly quiet.
Sergei shifted his weight, folding his arms tighter across his chest. “This isn’t a good idea, Maxim. He might not have turned you in, but he despises you.”
That word “despises” landed like a sucker punch to the gut.
Despises.
I clenched my jaw until something in my temple throbbed, but I didn’t let them see how much it hurt me.
“He’ll come around,” I said stiffly, though I didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I need to give him time.”
Archie raised his eyebrows. “And what if he doesn’t? Do you really think he’ll forget everything?”
That was the question, wasn’t it?
If Wren didn’t come around… if he never forgave me. What then? I hadn’t let myself think that far. I couldn’t. He had to come around.
“I need one of you to get close to Bradley’s husband,” I said. “Tap his phone, install bugs in their home—subtle ones. I want to know if his husband knows anything. If Bradley ever spoke to him about his plans… or about the chief.”
“Risky,” Nik muttered but didn’t argue.
“I’ll do it,” Sergei said.
I rolled my neck. “Fine. I’ll leave Sergei to discuss the new security measures and how we’re going to find Stone.”
I should have probably stayed behind to listen to the new plans Sergei had drafted to keep me and Wren safe, but I had no interest in talking about logistics or contingency plans anymore.
Not when all I saw was the image of Wren curled up on that fucking bed, crying like I’d carved out his heart.
When I reached my office, I slammed the door behind me and sat heavily in my chair. The monitor was still on. Still showing Wren.
He’d shifted.
He laid on his side now, back to the camera. His hand curled loosely around the edge of the blanket like a child clinging to a security object. He wasn’t crying this time.
He was just still. Empty.
That was worse.
I rubbed a hand across my mouth, forcing myself to face the ugly, vicious truth I couldn’t escape.
Sergei was right.
Wren despised me.
I sat there, staring at Wren’s still form on the screen, when the door flew open.
“Wait—” Archie’s voice, taut with disapproval, preceded Jess, who stormed into my office like a furious tornado in designer boots.
She looked wild. Eyes blazing, jaw tight, posture radiating violence. Archie was right behind her, tense, already lifting his phone to call security.
“Enough,” I snapped, cutting through the rising commotion. I pushed out of my chair. “Archie. Stand down. Jess is fine. She’s a friend.”
Archie eyed her, clearly skeptical, but I didn’t give him a choice. He left reluctantly, shooting Jess a narrow-eyed warning before shutting the door.
The second we were alone, Jess rounded on me, her body practically vibrating with fury.
“I want to see Wren,” she demanded. “I’m not asking.”
I stared her down, already tired. Not of her, but of all this. Of the fight. Of the pain. “All right. You can see him.”
She blinked. Clearly not expecting me to give in so easily. The hard edge in her shoulders faltered for a second, confusion slipping in. She’d come here ready for war.
“What?” she asked, her voice smaller now. “You’re letting me?”
I nodded slowly. “Right now… he hates me. You showing up won’t make that worse. If anything… maybe you’ll be able to help me to reach him in a way I can’t.”
The fight in her eyes dimmed, replaced by suspicion. “Help you? Why the fuck would I help you? After everything you’ve done to him? You were supposed to tell him the truth, not let the shit hit the fan and leave a mess every fucking where.”
I braced my hands on my desk and leaned in. “I never lied to you, Jessica.”
She laughed bitterly. “Oh, fuck off. You omitted everything that mattered. That’s not any better.”
“I didn’t know how to tell him,” I said tightly, each word grating like glass in my throat. “How was I supposed to say ‘Wren, the father you’ve been searching for is dead, and oh yeah, I’ve known this whole time. In fact, he died while working for me.’ How was I supposed to destroy him like that?”
Jess’s eyes glistened, even if she tried to look stone cold.
“You destroyed him anyway,” she whispered. “He loved you so damn much. Accepted everything about you that he was uncomfortable with—all the bodyguards, being driven around. And you broke him.”
I nodded. Every word hit like a blade. “I know.”
A beat of silence passed. For the first time, Jess didn’t look ready to rip my face off. She looked devastated.
“I love him,” I said hoarsely. The words came out cracked and raw. I pushed away from the desk and paced. I needed to move, or I was going to lose it. “I love him in a way I can’t even begin to explain. In a way that makes me fucking insane. He’s not just important to me, Jess. He is me. He’s all of me. I don’t know how he did it, but he’s consumed me and nothing is left of my own. If I don’t have him, I have nothing.”
Jess didn’t speak. I kept going. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
“If it came down to it, I’d die for him. Without hesitation. But that’s not what scares me.” I turned to face her fully, letting her see it—the exhaustion, the ache, the hollow shell I felt like lately. “What scares me is that Wren—he’s impulsive. He’s hurt. He’s angry. He’s never been good at being obedient. If he doesn’t come to terms with this, Jess…”
Her face fell. “You think he’ll do something foolish.”
I nodded slowly. “I’m terrified that he’ll do something rash. Something permanent. If he pushes himself too far, if he lets the grief swallow him whole… he could end up dead. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, but I did. It’s already done, and there are people out there who would love to get their hands on him simply because I love him.”
The weight of those words choked the room.
Jess’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She rubbed at her face, fighting them back.
“I can’t lose him,” I said quietly. “I can’t. He doesn’t have to forgive me now. He doesn’t have to even look at me. But I need him alive, Jess. I need him breathing and angry and hating me if that’s what it takes. But alive. And maybe… maybe if you talk to him, he’ll listen to you. Because he won’t listen to me anymore.”
Jess stared at me for a long time. She swallowed hard. “You fucked this up so bad, Maxim. You had something great, and you ruined it. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive you.”
“I know.”
Finally, with a long sigh, her shoulders drooped. The fight bled out of her in slow waves.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said softly. “But not for you. For him. Only for him. You’re still on my shit list unless you can make him smile again.”
“That’s all I want,” I murmured. “I just ask you to give me one more night to try to reason with him. Then you can see him tomorrow.”
“Don’t you dare change your mind.”
I smiled tiredly at her, comforted that Wren had someone else who cared so damn much about him.
Jess left without another word, leaving me alone again with the quiet hum of the monitor and Wren’s sleeping form.
For a long while, I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
The only thing I could do was stare at the screen and repeat the same words over and over in my head like a silent prayer.
Stay alive, Wren. Hate me all you want. Just… stay alive.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WREN
The room felt smaller today.
Or maybe it was just me.
The room, luxurious, sprawling, with too many windows and too much fucking silence, might as well have been a cage. I couldn’t remember the last time I really looked out those windows. What was the point? The only view was the property’s iron gates and the endless, empty driveway leading nowhere I was allowed to go.
