Page 31 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

"But at what cost?" she asks, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What did it take from you?"

"Everything," I admit, my voice barely audible. "It took everything."

She leans into me again, her warmth seeping through the cold night air. "You're more than just survival, Anton. You're more than the violence and the darkness they forced on you."

I want to believe her. I do. But the memories are too vivid, the scars too deep. "Maybe," I say, staring into the flames. "But I don't know how to be anything else."

"You already are," she insists, her hand resting over my heart. "You're kind and loyal and loving. You're my Anton."

Her words pierce through the armor I've built around myself. For a moment, I allow myself to feel the truth in them. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there's more to me than the killer that was created.

"We should get some sleep," I say finally, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Tomorrow will be just as hard."

She nods, reluctantly pulling away. She lays down on the makeshift bed.

"I will," I promise, lying down beside her and pulling her into my arms. "Always."

"I can't sleep," she whispers into the darkness.

“Try.”

"I keep thinking about everything. About what we're walking toward. What we're leaving behind."

I tilt her chin up so I can see her face in the dim light. Even exhausted, even scared, she's beautiful. "Hey. Look at me."

Her blue eyes find mine. "Right now, there's nothing but this," I tell her, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Just you and me under these stars. Everything else can wait until morning."

She searches my face for a long moment, then her hand slides up to cup my jaw. "Make me forget," she whispers. "Please, Anton. Make me forget everything except us."

The need in her voice undoes me. I roll her beneath me, careful of her healing arm, and capture her mouth with mine. This kiss is different from the gentle ones we've shared lately. It’s hungrier, more desperate.

She needs this as much as I do. We need the connection. A reminder that we're alive and together despite everything trying to tear us apart.

"I want you. I want this. Under the stars, in the middle of nowhere, with just us. I want to remember this moment forever."

Something primal awakens in my chest at her words.

The careful control I've been maintaining since her injury snaps.

My hands find the hem of her sweater, pushing it up and over her head.

The cool night air makes her gasp, but I'm already warming her skin with my mouth, trailing kisses down her throat.

"So beautiful," I murmur against her collarbone. "My perfect girl."

She tugs at my shirt and I help her remove it, then press my bare chest against hers. The sensation makes us both groan. Her skin is silk and fire beneath my hands.

"Touch me," she whispers, her voice breathless. "Please, Anton. I need your hands on me."

I oblige, my palms mapping every inch of her body.

I worship her body. When she arches beneath me, her soft moans echoing in the mountain silence, I know I could die happy having heard that sound.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders as I move lower, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the sensitive spot just below her navel that makes her gasp my name.

"Anton," she breathes. "Please."

I need no further encouragement.

I’m on my knees now, her pants and underwear around her ankles. She's beautiful. Always has been. My hands slide up her thighs. I part her legs to reveal her damp core.

I breathe deep the scent of her arousal, my own cock aching for release. I tease her with my tongue, flicking at the little bud of her clit and watching as she bucks against me.

"Please," she begs, wrapping her legs around my head. "I need you."

"You have me," I murmur, licking and sucking, driving her wild with my mouth. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, urging me on as she climaxes hard against my tongue.

Her cries echo in the night air, mingling with the nocturnal sounds that surround us. It's primal. Raw in the best way.

"Anton," she gasps when her tremors finally subside. "Make love to me."

I'm already hard enough to pound nails. I push myself up between her legs and slide inside her in one smooth motion. She arches against me, crying out again as I bury myself to the hilt in the tight heat of her body.

We move together. Our bodies finding that familiar pace that brings us both pleasure. We make love under the stars. Her soft whimpers and my grunts mingle with the crickets chirping and owls hooting.

When she comes again, I fall with her. Drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.

"I love you," she whispers against my skin.

"I love you too, solnyshko . More than life itself."

She falls asleep in my arms, but I stay awake long into the night. Watching. Listening. Protecting her even in sleep. Because that's what I do. That's who I am when I'm with her—not the killer, not the weapon, but the man who would burn the world down to keep her safe.

The stars wheel overhead, and somewhere in their cold light, I make a silent vow. Whatever happens when we reach Spain, whatever I have to do to end this war with Vadim and Mikhail, I will make sure she gets the life she deserves.

Even if I'm not in it.

Morning comes too soon, gray and cold. Lena stirs against me, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine.

"Ready for day two?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She stretches like a cat, wincing slightly as her healing arm protests. "With you? I'm ready for anything."

If only that were true.

The second day hits harder.

The incline is steeper. The weather colder. My muscles ache like I’ve been in a fistfight with the whole damn mountain.

It rains off and on, making the trek miserable.

Lena trips twice. The second time she hits her knee and curses so loudly I’m sure the entire mountain heard her.

“Let me help you.”

“I’ve got it.” She slaps my hand away, her frustration evident.

It feels like we are walking a knife’s edge. There are cliffs on one side, snow-covered forest on the other. I see hawks in the distance. This terrain is unforgiving.

It’s why it’s our safest option. Vadim’s men are not going to be out here. No one is going to believe we would ever dare this journey on foot.

Lena keeps pace, but I see her wincing. Her knee’s swelling. I make her stop and pull out the med kit. She grumbles but lets me wrap it.

"This is so romantic," she says. "Snot, blisters, altitude sickness. Really gets the blood pumping."

“I’d fuck you any which way.”

She snorts. And then laughs.

That was the goal with my crude comment.

We press on.

Late afternoon, clouds roll in. It’s too risky to continue in the rain. I find a cave of sorts. It’s not deep but it will keep the rain off us. The fire won’t catch. We’re freezing. There’s no tent, no shelter but stone and body heat.

I pull her against me.

“Do you regret meeting me?” she asks.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

“Fate put us in each other’s paths.”

“I believe that,” I agree. “I believe our mothers knew long before we were ever born.”

We snuggle together all night. I can feel my body draining, but I know I’ll make it.

I have to.

There is no other option.

The last day is the worst.

We wake to frost-covered clothes and stiff limbs. But Georgia’s on the other side of this ridge.

We sip our water, eat the bread and cheese and gather the strength to keep moving.

We walk in silence for hours.

Then finally, like a miracle, the forest thins and the temperature warms. A stretch of road appears, winding like a ribbon down into green valleys.

"We’re close," Lena says.

We stop one last time to rest before the descent. I hand Lena my bottle of water when I see her bottle is empty. She’s filthy, scraped, bruised, and glowing with something fierce and beautiful.

She catches me staring. "What?"

I shrug. "Just thinking how I’ve never seen anyone look that good covered in dirt."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Very classy."

"Once we’re over the border, we’ll meet our contact who will drive us to Tbilisi,” I say. “We’ll have to lay low for a couple of days.”

We drop below the tree line. I can see the border checkpoint in the distance. Two small buildings, a gate, and guards with rifles.

"Stay in the trees," I whisper, pulling Lena deeper into the forest. "We go around."

The next hour is the longest of my life. Every snapped twig sounds like gunfire. Every bird call makes my hand move toward my weapon. Lena stays close behind me. We don’t dare speak in case there are guards roaming the area.

We circle wide around the checkpoint, staying well within the cover of the pines. The forest is thick here, older trees with heavy branches that block most of the afternoon light. Perfect for hiding. Terrible for moving quickly.

"There," Lena breathes, pointing through the trees.

I follow her gaze and see it—a battered blue truck parked on a dirt road about two hundred meters into Georgian territory. Steam rises from its exhaust pipe. Our ride.

But between us and freedom are fifty meters of open ground. No cover. No trees. Just grass and rocks and nowhere to hide if someone decides to look this way.

I study the checkpoint. Two guards, both facing away from us, focused on the main road. They look bored. Good.

"When I say run, you run," I tell Lena. "Don't look back. Don't hesitate. Just get to that truck."

She nods.

I countdown on my fingers, then grab her hand. "Now."

We burst from the trees like rabbits fleeing a fox.

My legs pump harder than they have in days, Lena keeping pace beside me despite her injuries.

Behind us, I hear a shout. Russian voices. My blood turns to ice.

"Faster," I growl, not daring to look back.

A weathered man with kind eyes waves us forward urgently. "Quickly, quickly!"

We dive into the back of the truck. It's filled with hay bales and smells like hay and diesel fuel. The man is Elena’s contact, I assume. He hits the gas and bounces down the road.

Hay pokes at my face and fills my nose. Beside me, Lena's breathing is quick and shallow. I find her hand and squeeze.

We’re out of Russia.

Now, we have to trust Elena’s contact not to betray us.