Page 41 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

WREN

O ne second I was walking down the stairs, and the next my stomach turned on me. I lurched down the hall, hand pressed over my mouth, praying I didn’t ruin the antique rug Maxim imported from some obscure European palace.

I made it to the half bath just in time.

The nausea came in waves, violent and bitter, leaving my muscles trembling and my mouth tasting like acid. I clutched the edge of the toilet, chest heaving, as I leaned forward.

God, I felt like death.

My skin was clammy, and the back of my neck prickled with sweat. Not just hot— feverish . My stomach cramped like it was trying to fold in on itself, and a dull ache had settled behind my eyes, the kind that made it hard to focus on anything except how wrong everything felt.

Knuckles tapped at the door.

“Wren, you good in there?” Nik’s voice was muffled but laced with concern .

“Gimme a minute.” I tried to muster up a reassuring tone, but it sounded weak, even to me. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air.

After what felt like an eternity of grappling with my defiant stomach, the waves receded. The crippling cramps loosened their sadistic hold just enough for me to uncurl myself from around the toilet bowl.

Drawing on each ounce of strength remaining within me, I flushed the toilet and pushed myself up.

The world tilted dangerously around me as I swayed on purely ornamental legs.

I shot my hand out for support, slapped it against the cold sink.

Above it, a pair of extremely dull eyes stared back at me from the mirror.

The knock came again, more urgent this time. “Wren? Do you need help?” Nik’s voice echoed worriedly through the locked door.

“Almost finished.”

I cleared my throat, rinsed out my mouth with water, then grabbed the mouthwash from the counter and swished it around until the sting of mint drowned out everything else.

I spat, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and finger-combed my hair back into place.

Fuck. I ended up with a few strands tangled between my fingers.

I stared at them, confused, then shook them off into the sink like it was nothing. A few days of classes and I was already losing hair.

Outside the bathroom, Nik stood with one eyebrow arched and a glass in hand.

“You look like hell,” he said.

I groaned and leaned against the doorframe. “Thanks. Just what every boy dreams of hearing in the morning.”

“Sounded painful in there. Maxim didn’t knock you up, did he? How far along are you?”

I flipped him off so fast it made my head spin. “Shut up. ”

“Here, drink this. Pilar heard you getting sick and sent me with a glass of juice for hydration.”

“Thanks. She’s really been so helpful. I can’t remember what my life was like before her.” Cooking my breakfast, doing my laundry, and making beds. I should feel ashamed that whenever she was here, I didn’t even bother to make our bed. She usually changed the sheets anyway.

I drank down the juice in three long swallows, grimacing at the taste. Whatever fruits had gone into it were masked by the salty tang of electrolytes. But as I handed the glass back to Nik, I felt a surprising sense of gratitude.

He held up the glass and pouted. “Didn’t even leave me a drop.”

“You’re not sick, are you?” I thrust my backpack at him and my car keys. “You’ll have to drive.”

“You sure you want to go in today? If you’re not feeling well enough?—”

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“If I don’t, Maxim will get upset that I am sick, and I don’t want him to be worried. He’s already taking care of so much. I want to give him a break from worrying about me.”

“You’re well enough to go, though?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a full day of classes, so once I’m finished, I’ll come home and get some rest.”

Nik’s gaze dropped to my waistline. “I see you’re feeling a little risqué today.”

I followed his gaze down. I was wearing loose-fitting jeans slung low on my hips—so low the silver bar of my belly button ring peeked out—and a cropped hoodie. The drawstrings bounced with each breath I took, like they were mocking me.

I pulled at the hoodie self-consciously. “I thought my outfit looked cute. What’s wrong with showing a little skin? ”

“Everything when your man is Maxim Morozov.”

I laughed, mostly because I was too tired to argue and a little because he wasn’t wrong. Maxim wouldn’t love these clothes. Scratch that. He wouldn’t love these clothes when I wasn’t wearing them with him. But he didn’t need to know. I would get back home before him today.

I started to push off the doorframe, but the floor shifted slightly under my feet, like the house had tilted a bit to the left.

Nik’s hand came out instantly, gripping my elbow. “Hey, you sure you’re up to this? You look like you’ve been playing around in Maxim’s liquor chest.”

“I’m good. Just moved too fast.” I brushed it off, managed a smile.

“You need food.” Nik still eyed me with that big-brother scrutiny that made me both grateful and annoyed. “You eat anything yet?”

“I was gonna try,” I said. “But I think my stomach has other plans.”

“Well, plan B.” He nudged me toward the kitchen. “We’ll start with toast and work our way up.”

I nodded, the movement slight and slow, and we walked side by side down the hall.

My legs felt heavier than usual. Not sore. Just… drained. Like every step required more thought than it should. But I kept pace with Nik, our steps echoing quietly on the tile as we turned the corner.

If he noticed that I leaned slightly toward the wall or held my hand against the cool surface a moment longer than necessary, he didn’t say anything.

And I was grateful for that.

I followed Nik into the kitchen, the warm scent of sautéed onions and toasted bread wrapping around me like a hug I didn’t quite have the energy to return .

Pilar stood at the stove, her back straight and movements graceful as she plated food with quiet care.

She’d arranged a full breakfast on the marble island.

Scrambled eggs fluffed to perfection, slices of avocado fanned out beside toast, turkey bacon crisp and glistening.

As we entered, she turned, offering me a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“Wren,” she said gently, “how are you feeling? I made something light, easy on the stomach.”

I smiled back, or tried to. “Thank you, Pilar. And thanks for the juice. That helped.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re welcome. Sit. Eat a little. Even if it’s just a bite.”

I lowered myself onto one of the stools, the cool metal pressing against the backs of my legs as I sat, blinking hard to stay grounded. Everything smelled good—too good. The kind of good that made my stomach roll all over again.

I picked up a fork, stabbed a bit of egg, and then set it back down with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.” My stomach was too upset.

Pilar frowned. “Would you like some ginger tea instead? I can make it quickly.”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” I met her eyes. “Thank you. For everything. You’ve made the past few days bearable for me and Maxim.”

Nik leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I still think we should get you checked out. Better safe than sorry, Wren.”

A loud crash sounded. The sharp sound of ceramic shattering against tile.

Pilar stood frozen, wide-eyed, a broken plate at her feet. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick it up, murmuring something soft under her breath.

I pushed to my feet. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Maxim won’t even notice. ”

Pilar’s eyes darted up at me, something unreadable flickering there like fear. I got it. Maxim could be intense.

“Really,” I said gently. “It’s just a plate.”

Nik was already crouching to help her clean up. I grabbed my bag, tossed one last look at the untouched breakfast, and turned toward the door.

“See you later, Pilar. Thanks again for everything.”

She nodded silently, brushing ceramic shards into a dustpan.

We stepped outside into the morning light. It was bright but not warm, the chill cutting through my hoodie.

“You sure you don’t want to stop at the hospital?” Nik opened the car door for me. “With Maxim’s name, they’d look after you quickly.”

“That’s a bit too dramatic for a stomach bug. Come on. If we don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

For the first few minutes, we rode in silence. I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the city blur past in streaks of green and gray. My stomach churned, not as violently now, but a quiet, persistent warning like an engine low on oil.

“Nik?” I asked after a while, not moving from where I was slumped.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

I curled my fingers around the hem of my hoodie.

“How did Vova really die?”

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Nik didn’t look at me. Through his reflection in the window, I watched him tighten his hands on the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather. I waited. When he didn’t answer, I turned my head toward him .

“Please,” I whispered. “Maxim won’t tell me the full truth. I need to know.”

Nik exhaled sharply, like the air was being dragged out of him. “Wren…”

“I know it’s bad,” I said. “But I want the truth. Not the version people are wrapping up to protect me. I don’t need protection. Not from this. I’ve already chosen to be with Maxim. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“He was beaten,” Nik said quietly. “With a sledgehammer.”

The air vanished from my lungs.

For a split second, the car spun. Or maybe that was just me.

My mind flashed to Maxim’s office. The sledgehammer. The one I’d seen resting against the wall. Bloodstained. Had Vova been in the hospital since that time?

“Oh my god, stop the car,” I shouted, bile rushing into my mouth.

Nik swerved off to the side, screeching to a halt on the side of the road.

The car had barely come to a stop when I flung open the door and ran.

I retched onto the gravel, muscles convulsing.

Since I hadn’t eaten, most of it was dry heaving and the juice Pilar had made me.

So much for keeping hydrated when I brought it all back up.

Dry heaves and painful spasms twisted my insides like they were wrung through a meat grinder.

Nik pressed a bottle of water into my hand. “Here. Sip slow. I think I should take you to the hospital.”

I shook my head, eyes watering, throat raw, shame curling deep in my chest. “I’m fine,” I croaked. “It’s not… it’s not the sickness. It’s the thoughts of what he must have gone through. That’s a horrific way to die. Poor Vova.”

Nik didn’t say anything. He handed me tissues, let me stand there breathing through the storm .

I wiped my mouth, straightened, and turned back to him.

“Nik?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you teach me how to shoot?”

He lifted his brows. “What?”

I held his gaze. “I’m serious. Teach me. Please.” The more I said it, the more I believed it was the right thing. I’d been thinking about it since learning of Vova’s death.

“You should talk to Maxim?—”

“He won’t let me,” I said quickly. “You know what he’s like. He’ll say he’ll protect me. But… what if I’m alone someday? What if one day, it boils down to me protecting us, but I don’t know how?”

Nik looked torn, lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m not trying to join the Bratva,” I said with a dry chuckle. “I want to know. Just in case.”

A long beat passed. Then he sighed.

“Fine. After your classes, I’ll take you to the range. But only because I agree with you. You need to know how to handle yourself. The world you’re in now… it’s not a gentle one. It’s better to be prepared. In fact, we’ll pick Jess up, and I’ll take both of you.”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat and nodded.

It wasn’t a gentle world.

I wasn’t going to be helpless in it any longer.