Page 40 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MAXIM

W ren’s soft curses floated out from the bed while I stood in front of the mirror, looping the knot in my tie for the second time.

The first attempt had come out uneven, my fingers too stiff, too distracted.

The ache in my chest hadn’t eased in days.

Vova’s cremation had been a couple of days ago, and I had to pick up his ashes today for the upcoming memorial service.

Wren’s mutterings grounded me and made it easier to breathe.

He sat up in bed, laptop perched on his knees, his curls a wild halo around his face.

“This professor’s a sadist. Who gives assignments in the first week? Like, damn. Let us blink first.”

I smoothed down the front of my shirt. “Or—and hear me out—you could try doing your assignments when you first get them instead of waiting until the day it is due. You’re going to be late for class. ”

He narrowed his eyes, pouting like I’d kicked his puppy. “Are you supporting me or siding with my professor?”

I bit back a smirk. “You know you have my full support, kroshka.”

He tossed the blanket off and stretched.

My breath hitched. Christ. His body was lean, smooth, golden skin, every inch of him a walking, breathing sin.

He arched his back, ribs lifting, arms stretched high over his head like he had no idea what it did to me.

His T-shirt rode up, just enough for a glimpse of the lacy edge of his underwear…

and the glint of that damn belly button piercing.

That piercing. It gave him away.

On the surface, Wren looked like any other good boy—sweet, polite, easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention.

But that bit of sparkle right at his navel?

That was the tell. The warning. The invitation.

Proof there was more to him than clean lines and soft smiles. He wasn’t vanilla. Not even close.

I knew what he was. A filthy, eager little slut. And fuck, I loved that about him.

How was he real? How had I gotten this soft, warm thing to curl around my darkness without recoiling?

He knew a lot more now about my business than when we first fell in love, but he was coming to terms with it.

He no longer looked panicked after one of my long phone calls in Russian.

More and more, he trusted me to keep us safe.

But I couldn’t even keep Vova safe.

Wren padded across the room barefoot, still stretching, and came up to me, reaching for my tie like it was an old routine.

“Let me fix this.” He touched my throat. “You’re a bit distracted today, and your tie’s all crooked.”

“A lot on my mind.” My voice came out rougher than I liked. His fingers lingered a second longer, and I didn’t stop him.

“What’s your day looking like?” he asked, eyes on the knot. “Hopefully not working too much?”

“I have a couple of meetings. Then later, I need to collect Vlad’s remains.”

His hands stilled. He looked up at me. “You want me to come with you?”

I shook my head. “No. I can handle it.”

Vova was gone. I couldn’t focus on the loss when his killer was still out there. No one had bitten yet at the five-million-dollar reward I’d offered for information leading to the killer’s identity.

There was a beat of silence. Wren didn’t argue. He leaned in and kissed me softly. No heat. Just lips and breath and the weight of grief and comfort passing between mouths.

It steadied me more than he could ever know.

Wren grimaced, clutching his stomach.

I pulled back, worried. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He sat quickly on the edge of the bed. “Just a stomach thing. Probably something I ate yesterday on campus.”

“Wren—”

“I’m fine.” He waved me off. “It’s just some cramping. If it gets bad, I’ll stay home. But I don’t want to fall behind already in my first week. I can make it through today and can rest over the weekend.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, smiling at me. “Maxim, don’t worry about me. The feeling is already passing. Don’t work too hard today, okay?”

I wasn’t sure I believed him. Not completely. He looked a little pale. Or was that my imagination ?

I leaned down, cupped his cheek, and kissed his forehead, which felt clammy. I lingered there, letting the heat of him seep into me. Letting that quiet moment anchor me before I had to step out into the world and pretend to be unshakable again.

“Call me if it gets worse.” I straightened. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I’ll come.”

“Yes, babe,” he said.

I liked that so much.

Him calling me babe.

I stared at him for one more breath, drinking him in. That beautiful, ridiculous boy with his tousled hair and bad posture and too-big heart.

He was my sanity.

And I had no fucking idea what I would do if I lost him too.

Nope, I couldn’t let my thoughts go there, or I would be back to undoing all the freedom I’d given him lately. But I didn’t want to return to him being sad and hating me all the time. Now if he got angry, all I had to do was kiss him, finger him a little, and he went putty in my hands.

I kept myself busy at work. I had to, or I would go stir crazy from not being able to make any progress in Stone’s death and now Vova’s. Were they even related? Had Vova’s death been a warning to me? For what?

Grief had a sharp edge, but work dulled it.

Vova and I had been close, but since I became the Pakhan, I’d always kept a distance from him.

Not because I didn’t care, but because he didn’t choose the lifestyle.

I did. It was so easy to forget that he was gone.

That he wouldn’t be able to fulfill our next appointment for him to cut my hair.

I threw myself into meetings, contracts, numbers. Things I could control. Things that made sense.

The morning started with a teleconference with the city’s planning board.

They were dragging their feet again on the revised zoning permissions for The Orion Towers, one of the biggest projects my firm had ever taken on.

Twin skyscrapers on the waterfront—residential penthouses, fine dining, rooftop pools, panoramic skyline views.

A real empire, built from glass and steel.

And I wasn’t about to let red tape slow it down.

After that, I spent hours on-site, weaving through scaffolding and safety tape, listening to engineers and contractors rattle off updates.

Tower A had made decent progress, but Tower B was still playing catch-up.

I stood in the shell of what would soon be a marble-clad lobby and imagined the space finished—guests checking in, concierge desks buzzing, investors clapping me on the back.

I gave instructions, made hard calls, and reminded everyone that delays weren’t an option.

But beneath it all, a low hum of unease never left me. I kept seeing Vova’s face—smiling, alive. Then bloodied. If only I’d spent more time with him. If only I hadn’t been proud to let him know I loved him for taking me in when I had nothing.

Wren was the only one I’d ever said those words to. Now I would ensure he never forgot.

When I returned to the office, my shirt clung to my back and my sleeves were rolled to my elbows. I needed a stiff drink. Or a quiet room. Neither was likely.

The second I walked out of the elevator, Archie rose to his feet. His expression turned dark, and he crossed his arms as he studied me.

“How was the site visit?” He fell into step beside me. “I told you that you didn’t have to go yourself. You’re sweating.”

“Progress is decent,” I said as we entered my office. “The glass panels of Tower B are up to the executive level now. Rooftop pool’s still behind schedule, but we’ll make up the time. If the final product looks half as good as the renders, it’ll outshine anything else in the city.”

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, I rubbed the tension out of my neck and dropped my tablet onto the desk. I groaned as I sank into my chair.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Not really. Back’s a little stiff.”

“Want me to massage it for you?” He started toward me, but I held up a hand.

“It’s not necessary.”

“Come on, Maxim. I’ve massaged you more than a couple of times. It’s just to get the kinks out.”

But regardless of the reason, I wouldn’t accept that excuse from anyone massaging Wren, so how could I allow it to happen to me?

“I’m fine, Archie. We still have that interview scheduled for later for the PA position?”

“Actually, they called and canceled. They received another offer they accepted.”

“Fuck. Meanwhile, my business in Chicago is suffering without you.”

“It is not. Honestly, I serve more good here than in Chicago.”

He sat at the edge of my desk and leaned over. “Doesn’t this feel like old times?”

A knock at the door saved me from having to remind him that our relationship was years ago. It was at the back of my mind. The only one who consumed my thoughts was Wren.

Was he feeling better?

“Come in,” I said.

Sergei and Darius walked in, both of them moving with purpose. Sergei shut the door quietly, then turned to face me. The look on their faces was serious.

“You got something.” I sat up straight .

“We have a lead,” Sergei said.

“Talk to me.”

“Someone called. Said they had information about the attack. They want to meet tonight.”

My heart kicked up. I hadn’t felt anything close to hope since the night Vova died. But this… this could be something.

“Did they say who they were?”

Sergei shook his head. “No, but we’re tracing the call. We should have something concrete soon. But whoever they were, they knew Vova’s name and how he died. He mentioned the sledgehammer.”

“Do you suppose he’s the killer?” Archie asked.

“If he is, that would be brave of him to try and collect the reward.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone did that, though,” Darius said. “We can’t be too careful. You should let Nik and me handle it tonight, Maxim. No reason for you to be there in case it’s a setup.”

“I agree.” Sergei crossed his arms, his expression grave. “This would be the opportunity for them to take you out, and I say we do not give this to them.”

I curled my hands into fists. “Vova was like a brother to me. I need to be there.”

“No, you need to stay alive long enough to kill this fucker to avenge Vova,” Sergei said, tone clipped.

“When we’ve confirmed who he is and pick him up, you can step in.

This is what you pay us for. And it doesn’t make sense for you to protest because we’re not giving you the location where we’re meeting them tonight. ”

I scowled, slamming my fist into the desk. “This isn’t your decision to make, Sergei. Don’t forget I can pull the plug on this whole operation.” I used my finger to make a sweeping motion between the three bodyguards.

“Until you pull that plug, we’re doing things my way. ”

“Maxim, he’s right.” Archie placed his hand over mine. “Calm down. You have to think about being safe. If not to be able to avenge Vova, then for Wren. If something should happen to you, what would we say to him?”

Fuck. He was right. The whole thing could be a setup.

“Fine, but you call me the moment you confirm this person’s identity.”

“We will.”

“Good,” I said, then turned to Darius. “Any movement on Aistov?”

He shook his head. “We’ve had him under watch since the night Stone died.

But nothing is out of the ordinary. He hasn’t made contact with anyone unusual.

No tail, no strange visitors. If he’s connected to this, he’s buried it deep.

By the way, the rumors about him? Totally true.

He’s a real fuck boy that one. I don’t know where he gets the energy. ”

I clenched my jaw. Aistov’s affairs had nothing to do with me unless they affected our business. “And Arkady?”

Darius nodded. “Same. We’ve not taken our eyes off him. He’s a lot mellower these days since getting the crypto wallets. He’s keeping to himself. No shady meetings. No calls to unfamiliar numbers. He’s either innocent or better at this than we gave him credit for.”

I swore under my breath and turned away to stare out the window. The city skyline stretched beyond the glass, sharp, glittering, impersonal. It felt like a cage.

“How the hell is this bastard staying one step ahead of us?”

No one answered. Silence hung heavy, thick with frustration and the weight of everything we didn’t know.

But tonight, if this contact showed up and told us even one truth, we’d be closer. Closer to justice. Closer to vengeance.

Closer to making whoever had done this pay .