Page 39 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

WREN

N ik grumbled something low and harsh as he slammed the car door shut hard. I winced. His frustration hung in the air like smoke, acrid and clinging.

I ignored it.

He might be annoyed, but I wasn’t staying out of the loop this time.

Vova wasn’t some acquaintance. True, we’d only met once, but he’d been warm and kind in a way that left a lasting impression.

And more than that, he was Maxim’s cousin.

That made him family. If he was hurt, I needed to be there too.

“What are you muttering now?” I asked as we walked across the parking lot, weaving between cars toward the hospital entrance.

“I said I should hand in my resignation. Today.” Nik spoke louder than necessary, catching the attention of an elderly woman climbing into her car. She narrowed her eyes at us like we were thugs .

I gave her an apologetic smile, then turned to Nik. “Why would you do that? Don’t you like working for me? I thought the pay was good.”

“The pay’s great. But what’s the point if I’m going to drop dead from stress before I can spend any of it on my woman?” He yanked the door open and held it for me.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” I ducked under his arm.

As we stepped inside, cool air enveloped us.

The hospital buzzed with action—phones ringing, intercoms crackling, footsteps shuffling against linoleum.

The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and something else I couldn’t quite name.

Somewhere, a baby cried. Someone was coughing like their lungs were trying to escape.

The chaos hit me, but underneath it was a more personal dread.

The last time I’d been in this hospital, Bradley had taken me to get my shoulder stitched up.

Bradley.

A twist of unease curled in my gut. Even now, with everything I knew, I couldn’t entirely hate him. He’d been kind. Steady. Maybe too interested, but not cruel. Maxim would say that kindness had been a lie, a tactic, but part of me still wondered if his execution had been necessary.

What if I ran into his husband? What would I say to him?

Nik must’ve sensed me stalling. He caught my arm and gently steered me toward the information desk.

“I’m not being dramatic,” he said. “You’re going to be the death of me.

You do realize that, right? Maxim gave me one instruction.

To take you home, and now here I am, once again, elbow-deep in your moral rebellion.

If the stress doesn’t get to me, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he shoots me himself. ”

“Nobody’s going to shoot you. We’ll go home after,” I promised. “I just need to know Vlad’s okay. ”

We reached the reception desk. A nurse—midtwenties, bleach-blond, and chewing gum like it had personally offended him—glanced up. His name tag read Levi.

I offered him a smile. “Hi. We’re here for someone who was brought in earlier. Vladimir Morozov?” I glanced at Nik with my brows raised. Had I gotten the name correct? Vova was Maxim’s cousin, but that didn’t mean they shared the same surname.

Levi’s gaze dragged over me with half-bored interest. Until he saw Nik. Then his spine straightened.

“Relation to the patient?” he asked.

“He’s my, uh, well, my boyfriend’s cousin. Maxim Morozov? He should’ve arrived just before us.”

Levi tapped at the keyboard with blush-pink manicured nails. His frown deepened as he read whatever was on the screen.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice polite but firm. “Mr. Morozov is in a private room. Restricted access. Only two names on the approved list.”

My stomach tightened. “And those names are?”

Nik answered before the nurse could. “Maxim and Sergei.”

I turned on him. “You knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Would it have mattered?” He crossed his arms. “Were you planning to listen to anything I said in the car?”

“Don’t be like that.”

I turned back to the nurse, who looked mildly entertained now.

“Are you sure there’s no way for me to see him?”

“Positive.” He popped his gum. “But you’re welcome to wait in the seating area. When Mr. Morozov is done, he can authorize a visitor. If he wants.”

I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show. “Thanks.”

I caught a handful of Nik’s shirt and tugged him toward the waiting area. He followed without protest and dropped into a metal chair beside me with a heavy sigh. His elbows landed on his knees, hands clasped tight.

I stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the automatic doors. People kept streaming in—some panicked, some too calm. Time moved strangely in places like this. Moments dragged, then snapped.

I kept thinking about the look on Maxim’s face when he’d left. The worry. The tension.

If Vova didn’t make it…

I shoved that thought down and gripped the edge of my seat.

“Nik, do you know what happened to Vlad?”

Nik didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, the muscle twitching like he was chewing on something bitter. I waited, but he exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the chair.

“I think it’s better if you ask Maxim.”

I curled my fingers in my lap. The only thing Maxim hid from me was his secret identity. Did that mean Vova was also in the mob? He looked so different from Maxim. So happy. So sweet. Maxim was loving to me now, but he hadn’t always been that way.

“Come on. Just tell me something. Anything.”

“Wren.” Nik’s tone was softer than I expected, but unshakable. “It’s not my place to say, so don’t ask.”

I turned toward him fully. “Is he going to be all right at least?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you call Maxim? Let him know you’re here. He’ll come find you.”

I fished out my phone and pressed the redial button. He was the last person I’d called. The phone didn’t ring and went straight to voice mail.

I tried again. Same thing. And again.

Still nothing .

Frustration rose, sharp in my chest, burning behind my eyes. I didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between us. The waiting area buzzed around us. People came and went, nurses called names, the television mounted on the wall played a muted nature documentary no one was watching.

I kept glancing at the hallway. Hoping. Worrying.

Nik sat unmoving beside me, but I could tell he was tense too. He might have been trying to act like this wasn’t eating at him, but it was. The silence between us was thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then the doors slid open again.

I looked up and froze.

Maxim walked in with Sergei at his side and Archie next to him. Archie had his arm draped over Maxim’s shoulders like he was holding him upright.

Maxim looked wrecked.

Pale. Hollow. His mouth was set in a grim, exhausted line.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I rose slowly to my feet, afraid to breathe.

Vlad…

Please, God, no.

Maxim saw me.

He stopped walking.

His eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to be angry I’d disobeyed him. His shoulders went stiff. His expression flickered.

Even Nik, still seated, groaned under his breath. “Fuck. If I die, you gotta tell Jess I love her.”

I ignored him but didn’t take a step, not sure how Maxim would react. He shifted out from under Archie’s arm. Left Sergei behind.

And came to me .

Just walked straight across the waiting room like nothing else mattered. Like I was the only person in the room.

I didn’t move.

Not until he reached me, and then I was in his arms, and he was in mine, and everything else dropped away.

He held me like he’d been waiting to fall apart.

I wrapped myself around him, as tight as I could. His breath hitched, and I felt it—the tremble in his chest, the grief boiling under the surface.

“I’m here,” I whispered into his shoulder. “I’m right here.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, just clung to me, breathing hard while I rubbed circles along his back.

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “What are you doing here? I told you to go home.”

“I know, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you needing me and not being here for you. Please don’t shut me out.” I threaded my fingers through the hair at his nape. “I want to be there for you.”

“He’s gone,” he whispered. “He’s dead, Wren.”

The words hit me like a slap. I wasn’t prepared for this to be the news. I’d thought at best seriously ill, but…dead. Oh god. Sweet Vova.

My throat closed. “Maxim…”

He didn’t cry. He held me tighter, like if he let go, he might collapse.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, and meant it with everything I had. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Foolish question. Nothing could bring Vova back.

Maxim leaned into me, burying his face against my neck.

“Just… don’t let go yet,” he whispered. “I’m just… so tired. Can I stay like this? Just for a minute.”

I held him tighter, threading my fingers into his hair.

“You can take all the minutes,” I said softly. “Every single one you need. ”

In that moment, it wasn’t him holding me together.

It was me holding him.

Something unfamiliar swelled inside me. Something sharp and aching and vast. Not fear. Not love. Not even grief. It was the overwhelming need to protect him. To hold him up when he couldn’t do it for himself. To become his strength, even for a little while.

Since we got home from the hospital, the house felt different. Somber, as if it too were in mourning.

I padded barefoot down the hallway, past the living room, where the lights were still dimmed. The clock on the wall ticked out an uneven rhythm, echoing faintly. Somewhere deeper inside, the low rumble of Maxim’s voice—sharp, clipped—sliced through the silence like broken glass.

He was still in his office.

I’d left him alone to finish up my reading, then prepared him a bath, which seemed more needed than I’d imagined. So much anger tinged his words.

At the door, I hesitated. It wasn’t fully shut, and his voice rose again. A string of curses followed. Russian—rough and raw. A thud. The sound of something hitting the desk, maybe his fist.

I pushed the door open gently. I still had no idea how Vova had died.

Maxim had said the details weren’t important.

Why then did I feel like he was taking responsibility for what happened?

He’s been on edge since we arrived. Phone call after phone call, and they didn’t seem like the type you made to family.

Maxim stood behind his desk, one hand braced on the edge, the other gripping his phone like he might snap it in half.

His laptop was open, but he wasn’t looking at it.

His whole body was taut, shoulders squared, jaw clenched.

His suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

He’s still wearing his work clothes.

I must have made a sound because he turned and paused when he saw me. His brow softened slightly, but the storm didn’t leave his eyes. He lowered his voice while finishing up his call, then threw his phone onto the desk.

“How’s everything going?” I crossed the room slowly.

He exhaled hard, ran a hand over his face. “I’m hoping a five-million-dollar reward will get me answers.” He dropped into his chair like his bones had finally given up holding him up.

I blinked. “Five million?”

He glanced at me sidelong, lips quirking faintly. “It has to be enough for someone to come forward. Someone must know who—what happened to Vova.”

“Is Vova in the mob, then?”

“No.” He let out a sigh. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s associated with me, so he might as well have been.”

“I hope you find who is responsible.”

“Do you?” His gaze drifted to where the sledgehammer remained. “That’s to crush every bone in his body. Do you still hope that I find him?”

I bridged the space between us, cupped his stubbled cheek. “I know it won’t bring Vova back, but if it means you’re able to sleep at night, then yes. I hope you find them.”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Well, aren’t you becoming a Pakhan’s true lover?”

“I want you to be happy. Why don’t you leave all this for a while and come with me? I ran you a bath. I also have the soup the housekeeper left us warming up in the oven. She did a great job organizing everything. She even wrote our names on the dishes like I wouldn’t know your portion from mine. ”

That coaxed a tired smile from him, faint but real. “You say you eat less, but then you eat from my plate too.”

“You make it taste better.”

He reached up and brushed his thumb against my cheek, like he needed to feel I was really here. “What would I do without you?” he murmured. “You’re all I have left now.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not true. You have Sergei. Darius. Nik, Archie… even Jess has made allegiance.”

His gaze dropped, a shadow passing through it. “I suppose.”

“You do.” I tugged gently at his hand. “Come on. I’ll wash your hair and back.”

Maxim didn’t fight me. Perhaps because he needed this more than he would admit.

I led him upstairs to the bathroom, which was filled with steam.

We undressed, and I got in first, then offered him my hand.

He took it and eased down into the water with a tired sigh, letting his head rest against my shoulder.

“I’ll wash your hair.” I picked up the bottle on the tub’s edge.

He didn’t speak, just closed his eyes as I tipped warm water over his head. I worked the shampoo through his thick hair slowly, massaging his scalp, easing the tension from every strand. Then I took the sponge and started on his back, soft strokes that made him melt deeper into me.

After we drained the water and refilled the tub, Maxim settled between my legs, his back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, and he let himself be held. Slowly the tension eased from his body. The scent of soap and warm water enclosed us.

I squeezed his shoulders. “Talk to me,” I said quietly. “What are you thinking about?”

He tilted his head back a little. “Vova. When I first came here, I had nothing. And he… he gave me a place to stay. No questions. Just… kindness.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I was twenty-two, so twenty years ago.”

“What was he like then?”

“Loud. He swore like a sailor and smoked like one too. But he cooked every Sunday like a religion. Made this horrible fish stew I choked down out of guilt. And he used to sing when he thought no one was home. Off-key. Always in French.”

I laughed softly. “A Russian singing in French?”

“The love of his life was French.”

“Was?”

“He was killed in Moscow. A hate crime. It’s why Vova fled and came here.”

“And you ended up doing the same thing?”

“Yes, my father was a homophobic piece of shit. Vova was like a brother to me. Even when it took me a while to find a job, he didn’t make me feel unwelcome in his house.”

“You’re going to miss him.” I kissed his temple. “Maxim?”

“Hmm?”

“I really hope you find whoever did this.”

Maxim didn’t reply, but he tightened his fingers around mine. And it was enough.