Page 17 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

MAXIM

W hen I saw Wren standing in Bradley’s grip, so close to the edge of the rooftop, everything inside me went silent.

Not calm.

Not focused.

Silent in that horrifying way, like the seconds before a bomb goes off.

Bradley had his hand clamped tight around Wren’s neck, his face twisted into something manic, something reckless.

And Wren—Jesus—Wren looked terrified. His face was pale, eyes wide, body stiff as Bradley dragged him closer to the edge of the fucking roof.

That was all it took. Every ounce of control I’d been gripping all day snapped.

“Bradley,” I said, my voice low and sharp, but even to my own ears, it cracked with barely restrained panic. “Let. Him. Go.”

“Don’t fucking come closer,” Bradley barked back, tightening his grip. Wren flinched, his eyes cutting toward me, wide with disbelief and terror. That gutted me more than anything else in this fucked up situation. “One more step and I swear to god, I’ll take us both over.”

My throat dried. I couldn’t reach for my gun.

Couldn’t risk it.

If I missed?—

If I so much as grazed Wren?—

I wouldn’t survive it.

Not because Bradley would kill me.

Because I wouldn’t want to keep living if Wren wasn’t breathing.

I raised my hands, forcing my tone low and even, to negotiate with a dying man. Someone with nothing to lose. “Bradley, listen to me. You don’t want to do this. It’s not Wren who you’re after. You’ve made your point. Let him go, and we can talk.”

Bradley’s laugh was cracked and sharp as glass. “Talk? Fuck talking to me, Maxim. Tell him the truth.”

Wren looked between us, his lips parted, trembling slightly. “Tell me what?”

“Tell him why you’re really protecting him like he’s the fucking winning lottery ticket.” Bradley’s spit flew, his grip bruising Wren’s throat now. “Tell him who you really are.”

My stomach twisted violently.

Not here.

Not like this.

I needed more time to find the right words. But whether then or later, could there ever be the right words for the secret I’d been keeping from him?

Wren’s eyes locked on mine. Pleading. Shining with hurt and confusion.

“Maxim,” he whispered. “Is it true? Are you… working with the Bratva?”

Fuck .

I couldn’t lie. Not anymore. Not when his life hung in the balance.

“Yes.” The word fell from my lips like lead, heavy and inescapable. “I’m the Pakhan.”

Wren reeled like I’d slapped him.

Before he could speak, I rushed forward, words tumbling, desperate, useless.

“I don’t deal with petty crime. I don’t push guns or pimp women.

I’m the head of the family, Wren. It might not be the conventional blood family but that’s what we are.

That’s what I built, and I’m the strategist, which is why I’ve stayed out of the public eye for anything that doesn’t have to do with my legitimate business.

I’m the one who makes sure the others play by the rules. I rarely get my hands dirty.”

Bradley snorted, full of venom. “Rarely? Rarely ? That’s a fucking joke.”

“Shut up, Bradley.” My voice was a razor, cutting sharp through the night. “Haven’t you done enough? I’ve overlooked your betrayal long enough because of your father.”

“You think he’s the good guy, Wren?” Bradley forged on, ignoring my words.

“You think because he wears suits and makes sweet love to you that he’s somehow better than the rest of them?

” He shifted slightly, forcing Wren closer to the edge.

My heart dropped to my knees. “Let me tell you a little story.”

“No—” I said, but Bradley cut me off with a vicious smile.

“There was a boy. Grew up thinking the world was safe, even though his mother abandoned him. It was okay because he had a dad who loved him. Who read him bedtime stories and kissed his forehead at night. Until one day, his dad didn’t come home. Until one day, he disappeared.”

“Like my father,” Wren whispered.

“That boy bounced through foster homes, somehow always having enough to get everything he needed to make it in life. He got a scholarship. Got his degree. Got a steady job. Right here… for Morozov Holdings.”

Wren stiffened. His breath hitched audibly. I saw the wheels turning in his head as he made the connection to his story and Bradley’s. Too much of a similarity to be a coincidence.

“That boy was me,” Bradley hissed, tightening his grip on Wren’s throat so hard Wren coughed.

I saw red but forced myself to stay still.

A little bruise could be healed, but life once lost was gone forever.

“I never stopped looking for my father. Turns out, dear old Dad worked for Maxim. Loyal to the end. When he got caught in a sting, rather than be forced to give up his Pakhan, he swallowed a bullet.”

Wren’s eyes filled. He shook his head violently. “No. No, that’s?—”

“He killed himself,” Bradley growled, face twisted in rage. “Because Maxim Morozov makes them promise. No loose lips. No witnesses. If you’re caught, you end yourself. In return, he takes care of your family. That’s the deal of working with the devil.”

Wren’s voice broke apart, trembling so violently I barely heard it. “Maxim… Maxim, is this true? You knew my dad?”

Fuck.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t lie.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Your father… he worked for me. He died on the job.”

Wren let out a choked, devastated sound. “No.” He shook his head over and over, like he could rewind the whole conversation. “No, no, no, no, no.”

I swallowed hard. Each word burned my throat like fire.

“He came to work for me on his own. He knew the risks involved, and I kept my promise, dammit. I made sure you had everything. Your education. Your scholarship. Your job. I kept you safe. That was supposed to be the end of it. You weren’t supposed to know. ”

Wren’s tears ran freely now, streaking down his face in rivers. His mouth twisted into something ugly and broken.

“You killed my father,” he whispered. “You killed my father… and then you fucked me like none of it mattered. How could you?”

His rage exploded. He yanked free from Bradley so violently I thought he was going to pitch himself off the roof. Instead, he lunged at me, fists flying, and I let them land.

Every punch. Every scream. Every broken sob.

I let him hit me because he deserved to.

Because I deserved it.

“I’m sorry,” I said raggedly, grabbing his arms. “Wren, I never meant for any of this to happen. When we met that first day at the coffee shop, it was pure coincidence. Then you showed up here, and I didn’t mean to get so close to you.”

“Shut up!” he screamed, collapsing to the ground and pulling his knees up to his chest. “You’re a liar! You lied to me about everything! Oh my god, I slept with you.”

Movement from the corner of my eye cut through the chaos.

Bradley. Slipping back. Trying to reach the exit.

I drew my gun in one smooth motion and leveled it at him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Bradley froze, hands balled into fists. “What are you going to do? Shoot me in front of him? You want to confirm just how fucking evil you are? You can’t kill me. You swore to my father that in exchange for his life, you would protect mine.”

I curled my lips. All softness gone. All grief temporarily shelved behind cold, brutal necessity.

He was right. I’d never hurt a family member of any of the men who worked for me.

But Bradley was an exception. He couldn’t live.

Not after threatening Wren’s life. Not after ruining any shot I had with Wren.

His father could take it up with me in hell.

“I’m not going to kill you.” I took a slow, deliberate step forward. “You’re going to do it yourself.”

His face lost color. “Maxim?—”

“You’re going to jump,” I said flatly. “Or I drag you from this roof, and you don’t want that because I’ll make it hurt worse. I’ll make it hurt for days. Weeks even. You’re done for, Bradley.”

“Maxim, stop!” Wren pleaded behind me, his voice cracking, but I didn’t take my eyes off Bradley.

“Did you fucking think for a minute that I’d let you walk away alive after you threatened him?

” I gestured toward Wren, who was back on his feet, watching me, his cheeks pale, his eyes red and swollen.

“Because of your father, I could overlook many things, Bradley, but not this. Wren is the one thing that I can’t compromise on.

He’s the only thing that matters in this fucking world, and you threatened to take that away from me. That’s unforgivable. Now jump.”

Bradley’s lips trembled. His gaze shifted from me to Wren. “This is the monster you’ve been sleeping with. Wren, you owe me a favor for showing you what an absolute bastard he is. Please tell my husband I love him.”

“No!” Wren cried. “Maxim, stop it! Please.”

Bradley climbed onto the ledge and stepped off, disappearing into the abyss below. The thud of his body hitting the pavement didn’t come right away. But when it did… it sounded final. Sickening.

Everything inside me cracked.

Not for Bradley.

Not even for the life I’d taken.

But for Wren, who stood shaking behind me, crying like I had just broken something that could never be repaired.

Because I had .

I’d stripped him of his innocence.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like the Pakhan. I felt like a monster.

“You killed him,” Wren whispered, taking a step back. For the second time since I knew him, I sensed real fear from him. “You killed him right in front of me like it was nothing.”

“I did.” I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat. Bradley’s death would never be a regret. But I did regret Wren having to see it unfold. Already, the commotion of voices from below reached us. “Because he threatened your life. That’s not something I can forgive.”

“So what now? You shove me off the edge too to keep me quiet?”

I scowled, his words cutting deeper than any blade could.

“Is that what you think?” The words came out low and rough, cracking under the weight of everything we were drowning in. I stalked toward him, fury and devastation blending into something sharp and ugly inside me. “That I could ever hurt you?”

Wren flinched, and my heart sank. This was worse than his fear. He didn’t trust me anymore. Not even to protect him from myself.

I stopped, breathing hard, my fists clenched at my sides. “Everything I’ve ever fucking done is to keep you safe. Every wall I built. Every secret I kept. Every decision I made.”

His mouth twisted, face blotchy and wet with tears.

“Safe?” He let out a wild, bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“You call this safe? You being some Mafia king with enemies gunning for you at every corner? You controlling my every move? Having men tail me like I’m property?

You just killed a man in front of me.” His voice cracked at the end.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me,” I ground out, barely able to hear the words through the storm in my head. “If you’d stayed away from him?— ”

“Don’t you dare!” Wren snapped, his voice shattering like glass. “You are not going to fucking blame me for this. You messed this up, Maxim. You messed up both our lives when you killed our fathers.”

Before I could answer, the rooftop door opened. Sergei burst through, Dezi right behind him. Sergei took one look at Wren, wild-eyed and trembling, and his face darkened, grim and hard as stone.

“We need to get him out of here,” Sergei barked, already moving forward. “Now. The cops are going to show up any second. We can’t have him here when they do. They’ll want statements. They’ll want him.”

I shot a sharp glare at Sergei, my chest heaving. “He won’t tell them anything.” My eyes met Wren’s, pleading and desperate. “You won’t betray me. I know you won’t, despite everything.”

Wren’s face contorted, rage and heartbreak battling for dominance. He shook his head slowly. “I would,” he said bitterly. “I would, Maxim. In a fucking heartbeat. You deserve to be locked up for what you’ve done. You don’t deserve my loyalty. Not after all the lies you’ve told me.”

The words hit harder than any physical blow could. I felt them in my bones. In my fucking soul.

I stared at him, feeling as if the world tilted sideways. “You don’t mean that,” I murmured, my voice suddenly hoarse, as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath me.

Sergei cut in, taking command. “Even if he doesn’t, right now Wren isn’t in the right frame of mind.” He flicked his eyes to Dezi. “Get him out of here. Now. And don’t fuck it up.”

Dezi hesitated for half a beat, then moved toward Wren.

Wren tensed, jerking back like a skittish animal.

“Don’t touch me!” he barked. He wiped his face roughly, trying to pull himself together, and staggered forward on his own. “I can walk.” He shoved Dezi’s hand away. He took two steps—just two—then his knees buckled.

His eyes fluttered, his face going pale as paper.

“Wren!” I surged forward, catching him before he hit the cold, unforgiving concrete. His body sagged against mine, boneless and limp.

“Shit,” Sergei hissed, moving beside me as I held Wren against my chest, hugging the terrifying stillness of his body.

I swallowed thickly, pressing my hand to his cheek, which felt too cool. “He fainted.”

“This is bad, Maxim,” Sergei said tightly. “The cops will be here soon. We need a story, and we need it fast.”

I looked down at Wren’s peaceful face, wiped clean of his rage now that unconsciousness had stolen it away.

“There’s no story,” I said hollowly, adjusting my grip on Wren and rising to my feet with him cradled against my chest like something precious and breakable. Because he was. And I’d broken him into a million fragments.

Sergei’s face twisted. “Maxim?—”

“There’s nothing else to tell. Bradley was suicidal, and we tried to stop him. We failed. I’d rather keep Wren out of it, but if I can’t, I trust him.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

I held Wren tighter and turned toward the door, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“That’s our story,” I said grimly as I walked away, Wren heavy and fragile in my arms. “And we stick to it. If we have to pay people to make it believable, then do it.”