Page 43 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

WREN

A small tan blur darted across the hallway and vanished into the living room.

I blinked.

Did we have a dog?

I rushed down the stairs, heartbeat kicking up, and the blur reappeared, bounding into the hall like it owned the place. He skidded to a stop at the sight of me, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling out of his mouth in pure, unfiltered joy.

He was small and skinny, like he’d been underfed.

He was probably just over a year old, with soft brown and white fur patched over his body like a quilt stitched from trouble, and those classic Beagle features.

Long velvet ears, round eyes too big for his face, and a little white-tipped tail.

He looked like he belonged on a calendar. Or in my lap. Forever.

I crouched slowly, trying not to startle him. “Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “You live here now? Is this your new house? ’Cause you’re mine now. I’m never giving you back. ”

He tilted his head, ears flopping with the movement, and took one hesitant step forward. Then another. His tail wagged faster, a nervous little flutter, like he was trying to decide whether I was friend or foe. Or maybe a walking treat dispenser.

“That’s it,” I murmured, sitting on the floor, holding my hand out low and open. “I’m a good guy. I promise.”

He inched forward and pressed his nose to my fingers, warm and damp and curious. One sniff. Two. Then he licked me—just once, just enough—and that was it. His whole body wiggled as he closed the distance and practically crawled into my lap, tail thumping against the floor like a drumroll.

I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. “Oh my god. You’re the sweetest. I already love you, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Babe!” I shouted toward the ceiling, still sitting on the floor with a very satisfied Beagle sprawled across my thighs. “I found a puppy, and I am keeping him!”

Footsteps echoed along the floor. A few seconds later, Maxim appeared from his office, looking way too amused for someone who brought possible chaos—beautiful chaos—into our home.

“You found a puppy?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or I brought you a puppy?”

I gasped. “He’s for me? Really?”

Maxim shrugged like it was no big deal, but he didn’t bother to hide the softness in his eyes. “If you want him. His previous owners are no longer able to take care of him. Not that I think they did a good job from the looks of him. If you don’t want him, I’ll have to find him a new owner.”

“If I—” I clutched the dog to my chest like someone might try to steal him. “Of course I want him. Look at him. He’s perfect. He has emotional damage and floppy ears. He’s my people. ”

The Beagle, clearly drunk on attention, wiggled in my arms until he slipped free and trotted over to Maxim, tail wagging like a flag in a windstorm. Maxim bent and scooped him up, holding him like it was second nature.

And the damn dog nuzzled into his neck like he’d belonged there his whole life.

Traitor. But also… I kind of got it. Because I did the same to Maxim.

I found Maxim staring at me. “You’re looking better after sleeping all morning.”

“I’m still a bit shaky but not as bad.” I should probably tell him about the strands of hair that had come out in my brush again, but today was Vova’s memorial.

Maxim put down the dog, who came back to me. I scratched behind his ear. “Where did you find him?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, but I thought maybe you’d want to keep him.”

“Hell yes, I do.” I stood, cradling the dog like a baby. “He’s perfect. What are we going to name him?”

Maxim shrugged again. “That’s up to you.”

“What about… Maxim Junior?”

He scowled. “Absolutely not.”

I grinned. “You’re right. I only need one Maxim in my life. Maybe Jellybean.”

“You want to name our dog Jellybean?”

“I’m naming my dog Jellybean. Didn’t you say you gave him to me?”

The puppy wriggled out of my arms and scampered over to Maxim, yipping happily. Maxim rolled his eyes but scooped him up again with a fleeting, gentle smile. The one that softened all the hard lines in his face and made him look… normal.

This is good.

We needed this. A piece of light on a heavy day .

I’d been dreading today from the moment I woke up. But now, there was a dog in the house, and for some reason, it made everything feel a little more bearable.

The puppy nuzzled into Maxim’s chest, tail wagging lazily. Maxim glanced at me.

“You still up for the service?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I feel better. Not perfect, but I can manage.”

“Good. Eat something. Then we’ll shower together. I’ll help you wash up. We don’t have much time. Thankfully, Pilar got our suits ready.”

“She’s been such a big help.”

Maxim walked with me into the kitchen. “So you no longer want me to get rid of her?”

“Well, maybe not until after I finish my final year. Then I can give you more of my time.”

“And what are your plans after you graduate?”

Pilar had made breakfast. Something savory and eggy that smelled good, but my stomach turned at the idea of eating it.

I asked Maxim to make me toast instead. This time, he didn’t burn them.

Instead of the tea Pilar had left for me, I chose apple juice.

I needed something sweeter to boost my energy level.

I would drink the tea later, since she went to so much trouble to make it for me.

Maxim fed the puppy. While I’d been sleeping, Nik had dropped by with bowls and puppy chow.

The dog ate it up greedily, and Maxim sat next to me while I told him I had no clue what I wanted to do after college.

He suggested I could work with him, but I was hesitant.

Archie thought I was a distraction at work, and maybe it would be a good idea for us to have one aspect of our life that was separate.

I glanced at the promise ring that still felt too much like an engagement ring. The idea of being engaged to Maxim wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed, though. In fact, I hoped he’d meant it as an engagement. There was nothing I’d love more than to be his husband.

After breakfast, we got dressed. The shower had helped. My muscles felt less sore, my mind clearer, the warmth of Maxim’s hands moving over me equal parts careful and grounding. There was a quiet to him today, a solemn steadiness that mirrored the mood hanging heavily between us.

Jellybean padded behind us everywhere we went, nails tapping the floor with a rhythm that somehow made everything feel less still. He followed us to the bedroom, plopped down dramatically at Maxim’s feet while we dressed, and let out the softest little howl when I stood up to fix my tie.

“Oh no,” I murmured, crouching again to rub behind his ears. “We’re not leaving you, little guy. Just stepping out for a bit.”

He whined, nosing at my ankle, then sat back and gave a tragic little yowl that absolutely pierced my heart.

Maxim emerged from the walk-in closet, buttoning his jacket. “What’s with the howling?”

“I think he senses we’re leaving him.”

“We’ll be back soon. In two hours at most.” Maxim picked up Jellybean and scratched behind his ears, then set him gently back down. “Let’s hope he doesn’t rip up the place when we’re gone. Tomorrow I’ll take him to a vet and ensure he’s okay.”

I crouched again and gave his soft ears one last rub. “Be good, and we’ll bring you back a treat.”

“Hate to break it to you, kroshka, but where we’re going, there won’t be any treats.”

“We can pick some up on the way back. Can’t we?”

“We’ll see.”

Sergei didn’t pull any stops for the drive to the funeral home.

Not only were we flanked by a vehicle, but one preceded us along the way.

Knowing the reason made my stomach flutter, but whenever Maxim asked me if I was okay, I smiled and nodded.

The last thing I wanted was to add any more pressure to what would be a tough day for him.

The memorial was small. Private. A soft, echoing sort of quiet wrapped around the space.

A few of Maxim’s most trusted men lined the back wall in dark suits, standing like shadows of the empire he built.

Some of the men I’d never met. From a distance, Nik whispered in my ear, pointing out his brigadiers—the men who ran the day-to-day operations of the darker side of Maxim’s business.

Others were Vova’s friends from the salon. Stylists and clients who knew Vova as the charming, flamboyant man who made them feel beautiful.

Jess slid into the seat beside me, nudging my shoulder gently. She took my hand and squeezed it. “Nik said you’ve been sick. You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Better today. Just a little tired, and my legs hurt.”

“You look pale.”

“Gee, thanks.” I managed a weak smile. “That’s what every guy wants to hear before a funeral.”

Jess gave a soft snort and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Have you told Maxim about the shooting range?”

I shook my head. “No, not yet. I’ll wait until I’m good at it so if he says no, I’ll already be a pro.”

Though that might take me quite a while. Our first day together at the shooting range hadn’t been bad. Jess had caught on faster than me, though Nik said I would get better. If only I could stop jumping every time the gun discharged.

The ceremony began. A soft instrumental played in the background—classical, nothing overly sentimental. The lighting was low and warm, and the urn sat on a pedestal draped in velvet. Vlad’s portrait rested beside it, the image capturing that joyful glint in his eyes .

Maxim stood to speak.

His voice, when it came, was steadier than I’d expected. Deep. Controlled. But he clenched his hands slightly on the paper in front of him, the only tell he was grieving, as he gave his tribute to Vova.

“He was my cousin, but he was my only family. Not just by blood but by choice.”

He spoke of Vova’s flair for making people comfortable and welcome, his loyalty, his annoying habit of never returning things he borrowed. He told a story about the time Vova got him out of a mess he’d made by claiming they were lovers. Half the room laughed. The other half looked scandalized.

“And he deserved better than what happened to him,” Maxim said, voice low now. “But I swear to him his name will not be forgotten, and the ones responsible will not breathe easy again.”

He stepped down, and for a moment, no one moved.

When he returned to his seat, I reached over and slipped my fingers back into his, grounding us both. I kissed his cheek. “Vova would have loved that.”

He nodded, his throat working to hold back the emotion. The ceremony didn’t take long after that. It seemed way too short to commemorate the life of someone who’d lived for forty-eight years.

After the ceremony, we went to Vova’s house.

Sergei had security concerns about having the repast at Maxim’s.

Vova’s place was a modest two-story home filled with warm bodies, the smell of food curling through the rooms like incense—rich, familiar, grounding.

The salon girls huddled in the kitchen, laughing quietly over memories and toasting with small glasses of wine.

Some of the Bratva men had already loosened their ties, plates balanced on their knees.

Maxim pressed his hand gently to the small of my back. “ Get something to eat,” he said, low against my ear. “I need to talk to a few people before we can leave.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Okay, I’ll find something in a bit.”

He searched my face like he didn’t quite believe me. Then he nodded, kissed my temple, and moved off to talk with a group of older men near the bar cart.

I wandered through the living room, past the food-laden table. The smells—stuffed cabbage, roast pork, peppered rye bread—turned my stomach, not out of disgust, but a strange, persistent queasiness had clung to me for days now. I had no appetite, and the discomfort in my legs was back.

I sat heavily on the edge of a couch. The last thing I needed was to faint and have Maxim worry about me.

“Here.” A plate appeared in front of me.

Archie.

He held it out with both hands—roasted vegetables, a small scoop of rice, nothing too heavy. “Maxim told me to bring this to you.”

I blinked up at him, frowning. “That’s… thoughtful. But I’m really not hungry.”

Archie’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You should try. Eat up, or he’ll worry. You don’t want to worry him, do you?”

I hesitated.

“He already feels guilty because he was too busy looking for you that day to answer Vova’s last phone call.”

My heart skipped a beat, and the chatter around the room fell away.

“W-what?” I asked.

Archie’s expression flickered. He straightened, clearly realizing too late what he’d said. “Shit. I thought you knew. I wouldn’t have—fuck, Wren, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. ”

My stomach turned, ice pooling in my gut. “So Vova… he called Maxim?”

Archie nodded slowly. “Apparently more than once. But Maxim was… you know. Distracted. Searching for you after you ran away. When he got back to Vova, it was too late.”

The room blurred around me, amplifying the noise of someone laughing in the kitchen. A plate clinking. Someone calling for more wine. The mundane sounds of life going on while my world crumbled.

I stood abruptly, my chest tight, the air too thick. I handed the plate back to Archie, untouched.

“Excuse me.” I needed space, needed to breathe.

Outside, the cool air wrapped around me like a balm, but it couldn’t soothe the ache in my ribs. I gripped the railing of the porch, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Maxim hadn’t told me.

He hadn’t told me Vova reached out.

He hadn’t told me I was the reason Vova was dead. Because maybe if I hadn’t run away, Maxim would have gotten to him sooner.

Did Maxim blame me?