Page 56 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

CHAPTER FORTY

MAXIM

T he helicopter blades cut through the night like a threat.

The landing pad was a blaze of cold light and motion—medics in flight suits moving with practiced urgency, their hands gloved, their eyes hidden behind dark visors.

Wren was already strapped to the gurney, swaddled in white sheets like a ghost. His head lolled to the side, cheek slack against the pillow. The sedation had done its job too well.

If only his eyes were open so I could stare into them one more time before I had to send him off without me. At least he would have Jess and Nik accompanying him. They hadn’t hesitated when I called them about the plan.

I walked up beside Wren and brushed his hair back from his forehead with trembling fingers. His skin was warm—too warm—and clammy with fever. Again. A line of sweat glistened along his temple.

The dog in my arms whimpered, sharing my anxiety as it gazed at Wren. He barked once, body wiggling as if wanting to go to the boy who’d shown him so much love in only a few days. I understood fully well the effect he had on others, given I’d also fallen under his spell upon our first meeting.

“I’m coming right behind you, solnyshko,” I whispered, leaning down. My lips touched the corner of his mouth, a kiss that felt more like a vow. “You just rest. Let them get you there safely.”

He didn’t stir. Didn’t so much as twitch.

It gutted me.

Behind me, the rumble of boots on concrete signaled Nik and Jess arriving from the service corridor, both suited up and ready for the flight.

They had brought Jellybean along with them so I could bring him home. “Thanks for going with him. If he wakes up and I’m not with him…”

“Don’t worry. We’ll stall.” Jess’s eyes were shiny but determined. “We’re never leaving him alone.”

Nik walked past me to stand by the gurney. He looked down at Wren for a long moment, then turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll guard him with my life,” he said simply. “On my honor.”

I gripped the back of his neck, squeezing. “I’m trusting you with him. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.”

And then they were loading him in.

From a distance, I watched the cabin doors close over Wren’s still body, sealing him away in metal and noise.

Jess climbed in after, followed by Nik, who took the seat closest to the stretcher.

The doors slammed shut, the rotor picked up speed, and the bird lifted off, taking the person I loved most into the sky.

Jellybean howled, a broken sound. Each yelp tore through skin and bone and bled into my heart. He was able to express himself the way I wanted to but couldn’t, and it was comforting.

I stayed behind because I had work to finish.

Hopefully, before Wren woke up and found out I’d broken my promise to him. But I had to. I needed to bury Archie for good.

The moment the chopper disappeared, I turned to the others.

It was almost five thirty in the morning.

Sergei stood like a stone at my right. Leo shifted anxiously beside him.

Viktor was there too, tall and unreadable, with Dezi beside him, leather gloves tucked into his waistband, eyes glittering beneath the brim of his cap.

Leo cleared his throat. “I could’ve gone with them,” he said quietly, his gaze following the helicopter.

I shook my head. “A doctor’s already with them.” Plus, I still didn’t completely trust him. “Your place is here. If this plan is going to work, we need you to play your part.”

He pressed his lips together, nervous. “And this plan of yours. Are you sure he’ll fall for it?”

I couldn’t be sure of anything, but I needed Archie to be the one to come to me, not the other way around. If I went to him, he would suspect that I knew he was responsible.

“I’ll send a message out that Wren… didn’t make it.” The very thought had my throat closing up. I hated this plan, but it was the only way Archie would relax enough to let his guard down.

“Archie will call you, Leo, to confirm,” I said. “When he hears it from you, he’ll come straight to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Leo asked.

“He will.”

“And from there,” Viktor murmured, “you’ll finish it.”

I bobbed my head. “Does everyone know their part? ”

The others gave subtle nods. Even Leo, though his hand clutching his phone was trembling.

I turned to Sergei. “Don’t let the doc out of your sight.”

“I won’t,” he said immediately.

Too immediately.

I studied him.

Normally, Sergei would’ve argued. Suggested someone else for the babysitting detail. He’d never liked me walking into a battle zone without him. Darius was still monitoring Archie, and Nik was with Wren. But now? No protest. No pushback. Just quiet obedience.

My stomach knotted, and I stared at Sergei. At the way his stance behind the doctor—tense and watchful—could read as a silent threat or a silent shield.

But I nodded, saying nothing about the worry gnawing at my stomach. “We move swiftly to shut this down,” I said. “Dezi, Viktor, you’re with me back at the house, just in case.”

Dezi grinned and rolled his shoulders. “Been waiting to hurt someone since I found out about Wren. He was stubborn when I had to watch him, but he’s a good one.”

Viktor said nothing, just gave a short, sharp nod and fell in beside me.

I didn’t look back.

Didn’t trust myself to.

Because if I did—if I hesitated even a second—I might turn around and chase after that helicopter.

And I couldn’t.

Not until this was over.

Not until Archie was dead.

The message I sent to the encrypted group chat was short. Cold.

Me:

Wren didn’t make it.

No one is to contact me.

I don’t want condolences.

I don’t need drop-ins.

I want to be alone.

I muted the thread and dropped my phone onto the kitchen island.

The waiting—that was the worst part. Darius had confirmed Archie was still at home, which only meant one thing: he wasn’t worried.

He still thought we were in the dark. If he’d suspected otherwise, he had the means to vanish without a trace.

The house felt too big without Wren. Too still. Like it knew he was missing but didn’t dare say it out loud.

I poured water into Jellybean’s bowl. He didn’t touch it. Just paced the tiles with soft paws, tail low, whining under his breath. Every so often, he glanced at the entrance, like he was sure Wren would walk through it any second.

I crouched beside him, scratching behind his ears.

“Sorry we’ve been ignoring you, sharik,” I murmured. “He’s not doing so good. But he’ll be fine. He has to be.”

The words sounded like a prayer I wasn’t sure I believed.

“Leo said the hospital we sent him to has the best toxicologist in the States. They’ll take care of him. He’ll pull through.”

My phone buzzed.

Sergei:

You were right. Archie called Leo to check if Wren was really dead.

I stood there for a long moment, watching the dog finally drink from his bowl.

The water sloshed loudly onto the floor.

The truth hit me right then that even though every clue pointed to Archie, I’d wanted it to be a misunderstanding.

As if there could be any excuse for him requesting a doctor deliberately fuck with Wren’s treatment to kill him.

My phone rang. Archie’s name flashed across the screen. I ended the calls the first two times. The third time I let it go to voice mail. Messages popped up.

Archie:

Maxim, I just saw. Are you all right?

Pick up the phone. I’m trying to call you.

You don’t have to do this alone. I’m coming over.

A couple of minutes later, Darius sent me a message.

Darius:

He’s on the move. Looks to be heading in your direction.

I led Jellybean upstairs to our bedroom. Wren would never forgive me if anything happened to him.

He padded in quietly and veered straight toward the T-shirt Wren had left on the floor the morning he got sick. It still lay there, crumpled, forgotten, and soft with the shape of him.

The bed was unmade. Pilar had been on the run by then, too panicked to care.

Jellybean sniffed the shirt once, let out a low, aching whine, then curled into himself on top of it as if he could press closer to Wren by sheer will alone.

And I stood there, useless, watching the interaction with the biggest fucking ache in my heart.

“Stay there, boy.” I slipped him the treat I’d brought, scratched behind his ears, and stood. It wouldn’t be long now .

I shut the bedroom door behind me and returned to the kitchen.

The silence was too much.

I reached for the knife block. Pulled one out—the one with the curved blade and ivory handle. Sharpened it slowly against the whetstone, the scrape of metal dragging through the stillness like a warning. When the edge gleamed just right, I slid it back into place.

Then I opened the fridge.

Container by container, I took them out—each one labeled neatly with Wren’s name. What we’d taken as a gesture of care, of nurturing… was poison wrapped in domesticity. An elaborate betrayal sealed with masking tape and a marker.

Fruit salad. Broth. Bottled juices. Apple slices in lemon water so they wouldn’t brown too fast.

I poured them down the sink, hurled them into the trash.

Every one of them.

This kitchen used to be a fun place for Wren and me.

Every evening we’d had our dinner together and talked about the day.

So many times, I’d slipped out in the morning to grab us breakfast because he was definitely not a morning person, but when he smelled breakfast, he would immediately come alive.

Now the only thing that remained of the kitchen was the ugliness of hiring the woman who tried to poison Wren.

I’ll have to sell this house.

Otherwise, every time I walked into the kitchen, I would remember.

The doorbell rang.

I didn’t move.

Let him come.

Archie:

I’m here. Open the door.

Maxim!

I’m coming in.

A moment later, the lock disengaged. The house was so still the whisper of the front door opening pierced the air like a gunshot. His footsteps on the floor. I trusted him so much I’d given him a fucking key to our home.

“Maxim?”