Page 15 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Lena

I trace a scar on his jaw.

I remember there are several other scars on his chest. They all tell a tale of a life of violence.

“I wish I could’ve protected the boy who got these,” I whisper.

His breath catches. Just for a moment.

“Lena…”

There’s a raspy tone I haven’t heard before.

He’s still inside me. I don’t want to move.

I pull back a few inches and look at him.

“Anton.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

I blink, unsure whether this is the beginning of a goodbye or a confession. Is he going to tell me he’s got a serious girlfriend at home? Or he’s a spy for Mikhail.

“My name isn’t Anton.”

My hand stills over his heart. “What?”

He swallows, then sits up, carefully removing me from his body.

I adjust my panties, suddenly feeling exposed.

Anton quickly tucks away his dick and does up his jeans.

“Anton?” I whisper his name.

His gaze is faraway. I don’t know what he’s looking at but I can see something on his face. He’s relaxed just a little.

“It was supposed to be a clean start,” he says. “A new life. But nothing about any of this is clean.”

I have no idea what he’s saying, but part of me knew. I can’t explain how I knew, but he’s a walking, talking secret.

It’s like I always knew he wasn’t giving me his whole self.

“Are you married?” I ask. The words are so low I barely hear them myself.

“No.”

“Girlfriend? Kids?”

“No.”

Relief floods over me but I know there’s still a secret.

“An—”

“No.” He stops me. “My real name is Alexei. Alexei Orlov.”

It lands like a bomb. And it keeps detonating.

Orlov .

As in Vadim Orlov. Mikhail’s father. The man who has puppeted my fate since I was born. The devil who moves people around on his chessboard.

“What? You’re an Orlov?”

“I’m Vadim’s son,” Anton—Alexei—says flatly. “But only by blood.”

I have never been interested in learning anything about the Orlov family. I don’t care.

If I’m forced to bear the Orlov children, I will never tell them about the family.

Because I don’t care.

“Illegitimate,” I say. It makes sense. It’s not like monogamy is a thing in our world. The men are allowed to take any woman they want—willingly or not.

“No,” he says. “He was married to my mother.”

My mouth drops open. I had no idea Vadim had been married to someone before Natalia.

“Oh,” I say with a shake of my head.

I have a million questions but this is Anton. He’s not exactly an open book. I have to choose my questions carefully. I have a feeling I’m only going to get a couple.

“Your father.” I inwardly groan. That wasn’t a question. I’m just so—shocked. “I mean, I’m sorry. Please, tell me everything you want.”

“He tried to have me killed when I was six.”

The world tilts and there’s a loud buzzing noise.

Or maybe it’s just me. Shock. Anxiety.

“I don’t understand.”

He looks at me and something about the way he does makes me ache. Like a man unburdening a ghost he’s carried too long.

My heart hurts for him.

This isn’t a joke. Or some twisted story to garner sympathy.

My hand brushes his face, tracing the scar once again.

He’s not an affectionate man, but I have to touch him. Offer comfort that words will not provide.

I reach for his hand and gently squeeze. He doesn’t pull away, but he does look away. He’s back to staring at a particularly ugly bush.

“My mother’s name was Irina,” he says. “She was married to Vadim when she was eighteen. Had me a little over nine months after the wedding. I don’t remember much, but from what I have learned, Vadim met Natalia. They began their affair when I was very young.”

He stops and gently brushes his thumb across the back of my hand.

“Natalia convinced my father I wasn’t his. Told him my mother was sleeping around, dragging his name through the mud. That she had been pregnant when they got married.”

He pauses, eyes going distant.

“She convinced him I wasn’t his son. That I was a threat. That she could give him a true heir.”

I cover my mouth. “Mikhail.”

He nods once. “He believed her. Or maybe he just wanted to. Either way… he ordered us gone.”

There’s renewed ringing in my ears. “Gone… as in?—”

“He sent a man. A soldier. Loyal. Or at least bought. He stabbed my mother and me both. Set the house on fire to cover the bodies. But I didn’t die.”

Unchecked tears flow down my cheeks. I can’t stop them. My heart hurts for the little boy lost. “How—how did you survive?”

He offers the faintest hint of a smile remembering something beautiful inside a nightmare.

And then it’s gone.

“A woman found me in the woods, near death. She had nothing to offer really. It was just a shack and a name no one cared about. But she saved me. Nursed me for weeks. I don’t know how I lived. Just that I did. And I stopped being Alexei. Started being Anton. Anton Malikov.”

The scar on his chest. The burn on his upper arm. Suddenly it all fits.

And once again I’m crying.

I don’t know what to say to him.

“I always thought they’d come back for me,” he says. “But they didn’t. They never even looked.”

I can’t speak. I just reach for him.

He lets me.

His head bows, and he presses his forehead to mine. “You were the first person in thirty years who made me wish I’d been found.”

Tears continue to fall. I should be afraid. Should be running from everything this means.

But I can’t. Because all I want to do is hold him.

“I would’ve loved you even if your name was Devil,” I whisper.

He huffs a broken laugh. “Good. Because it might be before this is over.”

We don’t say I love you . But the air is soaked in it.

“Your father?—”

“He’s not my father,” he hisses.

I understand the vehemence. “Does he know who you are?”

“No. I don’t think so. He believes I’m dead.”

I want to ask why he works in the organization, but I know why. Anton is out for revenge.

“Am I part of your revenge?” I whisper.

He jerks back and then grabs my face. The fierce Anton is back. “No. Never. I would never use you.”

His hold softens just a little. He leans forward and kisses my tears. “Never, my solnyshko. You are the sunshine in my very dark life.”

I believe him.

“Anton, don’t leave me.”

“I will never leave you. You. Are. Mine.”

We both know this changes everything.

“We need to get back.” He gets to his feet and reaches for my hand. “You’ll need to fix your hair in the car.”

He’s back to the cold, professional bodyguard.

We walk back to the SUV, and he opens the passenger door.

I slide in and flip the visor down. I fix my hair and rub on some lip gloss to try and hide my swollen lips from his passionate kisses.

He says nothing the entire trip back to the estate. I understand the cars are all bugged.

Just like the house.

People are always watching. Which makes this thing between us even more dangerous.

Maybe I’m waiting to be killed. Part of me wonders if it would be better to die alongside Anton than be committed to a marriage with Mikhail.

We pull through the gates, and it feels like returning to prison.

Both of us are in dark moods as we walk inside.

“I’ll be at your door at five,” he says. “Don’t go to the dining room without me.”

I nod and step inside my room.

I close the door behind me and nearly scream.

My mom is waiting for me.

She sits at my vanity, legs crossed wearing a robe.

I can see by the look on her face she’s mad. I just don’t know why.

“Mom,” I say calmly.

“You fool,” she hisses.

I raise my brow. “Probably, but would you like to elaborate?”

She tosses her phone at me. I barely catch it.

“Look at it!”

I run my thumb across the screen and a photo appears.

I sink to my knees on the plush carpet.

My hands are shaking.

“Keep swiping,” she snaps.

And I do.

Every photo making me nauseous.

I look up at her through lashes wet with tears.

One photo shows my face in a moment of raw, open bliss as I ride him.

Another shows Anton’s hands in my hair, his mouth nearly on mine.

The third is one of the stolen kisses in a dark alcove Anton promised had no cameras.

But by the angle, the picture wasn’t taken with a security camera.

Someone had been there.

Watching.

“Sit,” she says.

It’s not a request.

I climb up from the floor and sit on the bed. My pulse drumming in my ears. My hands are shaking so badly I have to give her the phone back. I don’t want to see any more pictures.

She knows.

They know.

We’re dead.

“Who sent them?” I ask quietly.

Will it be quick? Will they make me watch them kill him first? Or the other way around.

“Someone in the house.”

I go cold.

“What?”

“You’re being watched, Lena. How could you be so reckless! So stupid!”

I drop my eyes. “I don’t want to marry Mikhail. I want Anton.”

“He’s not an option.”

“Will Mikhail kill me?” I ask.

“If he finds out, yes.”

I look up at her. “He doesn’t know?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. The pictures were sent to me thirty minutes ago.”

“Why?”

“A warning.”

“A warning. Blackmail?”

“That depends on who sent them.”

I want to vomit.

“Why are you showing me this?”

She sighs and moves to sit beside me on the bed.

“I loved someone once,” she says. I hear the sadness in her voice. “Forbidden. It was your father’s brother.”

The air cracks.

“He died in an accident three days before I was forced to marry Leonid instead. At least, that’s what I was told. But for twenty-five years, I’ve wondered if it was really an accident.”

A tremor shudders through me.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you’re repeating history, Lena. Word for word.”

I shake my head, refusing it. “No.”

“Yes. And I need you to understand something before this goes any further.”

She shows me more photographs.

Anton in the garden.

Me at the window.

Anton helping me into a car.

Moments that felt private were being used to terrorize.

Someone has been watching all along.

“Whoever sent these wants you to know they could destroy you at any time. The question is why haven’t they?”

My skin crawls.

“Why would someone in this house?—”

“Jealousy. Revenge. Or maybe they think they’re helping you. Keeping you in line.”

The photos are a net. A noose tightening. They’re giving me enough rope to hang myself.

“What do I do?”

She hesitates.

And for the first time, she looks like my mother—not the elegant queen I’ve always known, but a woman who lost something once and never got it back.

“I don’t know.”

A knock interrupts us.

My soul drops through the floor.

“Lena,” Mikhail’s voice calls out. Cold. Razor-sharp. “I know what you did.”

Elena’s face goes white.

She blacks out her screen. Then she stands. A regal air about her. “Fix your face.”

I rise on shaking legs, eyes burning. “What if he?—”

“He won’t touch you. Not yet.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “But he might touch him .”

Panic spirals up my spine.

Elena pulls open the door.

Mikhail steps inside and looks at me with disgust.

Mom shifts slightly, just enough to put herself between us.

He knows.

Where’s Anton?

Have they killed him already?

Am I next?