Page 24 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

WREN

M axim’s chest was a heavy, steady weight against my back. His breath ghosted over my neck, slow and even. His arms were snug around my waist, like he had no plans of ever letting me go. His fingers twitched slightly in his sleep, tightening, almost possessive. Almost tender.

And for a second—a shameful, pathetic second—I wanted to burrow closer and stay there. Let him shield me from the storm he’d created.

But the second passed.

Because the storm wasn’t outside. It was him.

And I’d had sex with him.

Twice, in fact.

Once, desperate in the shower. The second time slower, almost tender. The heat ebbed, but the need didn’t. Both times, I let him inside me. Both times, I kissed him back and whispered things I shouldn’t have. Both times, I let myself pretend .

Pretend that love and murder could coexist.

Pretend that monsters could hold me this softly.

Shame bled through my veins like poison. My stomach twisted painfully as my mind caught up with my body’s betrayal.

You slept with the man who’s responsible for your father’s death.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tight with nausea. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t wake up next to him like everything was fine. If I stayed, I would give in to him and accept everything he’d done.

I had to get out.

Every shift of my hips felt deafening in the dark. My heart thundered in my ears as I eased his arm from my waist and slipped out from under the sheets.

Maxim murmured something in his sleep and rolled slightly toward my empty space. I froze, breath lodged in my throat. Waiting. Counting each beat of silence.

But he didn’t wake.

I stood beside the bed, naked and shaking, watching him sleep in the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful for someone who had ripped my world apart.

I tore my gaze away and forced myself to move.

Step one: clothes. We’d fallen asleep naked after the second time we had sex. His cum was still on my thighs and the crease of my ass, but there was no time to take a shower. Every second mattered.

If he woke up and found me trying to flee…

Every step felt like I was trespassing in my own life. My hands trembled as I pulled on the jeans, wincing when the zipper caught slightly in my skin. My shirt followed. I grabbed my sneakers, sat on the floor, and shoved my feet into them without untying the laces.

My phone. My wallet .

I snagged them both from the nightstand, gaze darting toward the bed again when Maxim shifted and let out a low exhale. For half a second, he looked like the man I loved. Just Maxim. Not the Pakhan. Not the murderer.

That only made it worse.

I tiptoed toward the door, my steps silent. My breath felt trapped in my lungs, released only in small, controlled exhales through my nose. I couldn’t shake the paranoia that he’d wake.

When I cracked the door open and slipped through, the hallway was dark. Only the faint glow of security lights illuminated my path as I padded down the stairs. At the front door, I hesitated. For a long second, I stood there, biting my lip raw, gripping the doorknob tight.

Could I really do this?

I could almost feel his anger when he woke and found me gone. I could almost hear the fury rumbling low in his throat, see his face darken, imagine his hand clenching into a fist.

Walking away from a murderer shouldn’t be this complicated.

The night air hit me like a slap. Cold and damp. I hadn’t grabbed a jacket, but it didn’t matter. The chill reminded me I was still alive, still in control of something. My freedom.

I hurried down the driveway, sticking close to the shadows. The farther I got from the house, the tighter my chest squeezed. Not because of fear but because of guilt. A stupid, misplaced guilt that whispered I shouldn’t be doing this.

That I was leaving him behind after I’d promised him that I was his. But that didn’t count. He had me in a vulnerable position when he’d gotten me to say those words.

I didn’t slow down.

As soon as I let myself out of the gates, I ran like my life depended on it. I ran until my lungs felt ready to burst. I ran until I had no choice but to stop, bent over and breathing hard. My breath misted in the air; my fingers were stiff and cold. I dug out my phone and pulled up my Uber app.

Shit.

Where was I supposed to go? I couldn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Jess. It was the first place Maxim would look for me.

In the end, I selected a motel on the outskirts of town. The kind frequented by truckers and prostitutes. He would never think to look there.

When the car arrived, the driver looked almost hesitant, as if he thought I would pull a gun on him. “Wren?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” I hopped into the car, the stench of stale cigarette smoke hitting me. But the smell was better than sticking around waiting for another cab. Better than Maxim finding me.

The driver didn’t talk. I pretended to be asleep.

As if I could. My body strummed with nerves.

Every second I waited for the car to be surrounded by Maxim’s men.

Could it really be that easy to escape him?

I already knew his security at home was so tight he didn’t feel the need to keep his bodyguards around.

But his system was meant to keep people from coming in.

Not to prevent those who wanted to leave.

A sigh of relief escaped me when the driver pulled up at the front of the motel. I thanked him and, without looking back, strode through the entrance. The swing door creaked loudly, alerting the yawning young man at the desk.

“Hi, do you have any rooms available?”

He rubbed his bleary eyes. “That depends. Would you be paying in cash or…” His gaze trailed over my body, making my stomach crawl.

“I’ll pay in cash, thank you.”

“There’s a minimum of three hours.” He pointed at the board behind him, which listed the rate.

“That’s fine. I’ll stay for a couple of days. ”

I just needed some space from Maxim to think. I wasn’t necessarily leaving forever, but how could I make an informed decision if I was being held prisoner? Him locking me up only bred resentment. And sleeping with him while everything else was unresolved didn’t feel right.

I paid, took the key, and dragged myself to a small, dingy room that smelled faintly of mildew and cleaner. Once the door was locked behind me, I sank onto the edge of the rickety bed, my whole body wrung out and trembling.

It wasn’t until I sat in the silence, the cheap walls closing in, that I realized my hands were shaking.

Not because of the cold.

Not even because of fear.

But because for the first time since this all began… Maxim wasn’t near.

And despite everything—the lies, the blood, the betrayal—my chest ached with the emptiness of that truth.

Because somewhere deep down, where logic couldn’t reach, a traitorous part of me missed him already.

My eyes cracked open to harsh, dusty sunlight bleeding through the thin curtains. Where the hell was I? The ceiling, cracked and yellowed, was unfamiliar. The sheets were scratchy and twisted around my legs like restraints. Nothing like the soft linen of Maxim’s bed.

The motel.

The memories rushed back in slow, heavy waves. Slipping out of Maxim’s bed. The cold night air biting through my shirt. The cab ride through sleeping streets. Counting the bills in my wallet at the reception desk, hands shaking.

I groaned and rubbed my face. My whole body ached, sore from too many restless hours spent tossing on this rock-hard mattress.

I’d seen the sun creeping up over the windowsill. Unable to sleep, I’d curled up in a ball, listening to the TV from next door soaking through the walls, while dreading Maxim bursting through the door to take me away.

And I hated that a part of me wished he would.

At some point, exhaustion must have won.

My bladder felt like it was about to explode. “Shit.”

I stumbled out of bed, swaying slightly, my body stiff and heavy. The bathroom was tiny, lit with flickering fluorescent light. I relieved myself, groaning quietly in sheer relief as I leaned against the chipped tile.

The water pressure in the shower was laughable, but I turned it on anyway and stood under the lukewarm spray. It wasn’t luxury, but the water washed off the leftover sweat and the faint smell of sex still clinging to my skin from last night.

Maxim.

I braced my hands on the wall, the water sluicing down my back.

God, what have I done?

He would be furious.

Was he searching for me?

No, I refused to feel guilty.

Maxim was the reason my father was dead. He lied. He locked me away.

And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth on my skin or the way his arms felt wrapped around me in the shower, how he’d murmured apologies into my ear like they meant something.

I scrubbed my face roughly. No. Enough.

I dried off with a towel that felt like sandpaper and tugged on the same clothes from yesterday minus the underwear. They stuck slightly to my damp skin, making me feel gross and unsettled, but I didn’t have anything else to wear.

I needed clothes.

Jess .

Jess would come. Jess would help. She always did.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand but hesitated to power it on. When I arrived, I’d turned it off. Just in case. Part of me had thought it was smart. Part of me didn’t want to hear his voice or see his name lighting up my screen.

But the moment the phone flickered to life, my phone buzzed with notification after notification.

Dozens of missed calls.

Text messages.

Voicemails.

My stomach clenched painfully.

Maxim.

Nik.

Jess.

Darius.

Sergei.

Even Dezi had called.

I swallowed and opened the messages, my thumb hovering as my heart rate kicked up a notch.

Maxim:

Wren. Answer your fucking phone. Where are you?

Kroshka, please. Don’t do this. I woke up, and you were gone. Talk to me.

This isn’t funny. Are you safe? You better be fucking safe.

Wren, if you don’t answer me, I swear to god I’ll turn this city upside down to find you.