Page 10 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CHARLOTTE

“I know he’s possessive of you, I know he’s intense, but from everything I’ve uncovered... he’s also broken without you.” Ethan said gently.

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Ethan leaned forward, his tone low but urgent.

“I dug into him with the best surveillance tech I have. Cassian disappeared for nearly three months after you vanished. No phones. No sightings. Rumor had it he lived alone on a cliff, didn’t shave, didn’t bathe, survived off beans and rainwater, like some self-punishing monk—just waiting for a miracle.

Meanwhile, his men scoured the entire continent looking for you.

He emptied accounts, bribed governors, even made contact with foreign presidents trying to use every legal and illegal channel to track you down. ”

My lips parted, stunned. “He really did all that?”

Ethan nodded. “And more. I still think he’s an asshole. But if you’re going to survive whatever this is between you two, you should at least have the full story.”

I swallowed hard. “He’s still... possessive in a way that terrifies me sometimes. But I’ll talk to him. I want to go to the party. I need something normal, something light—just one night to feel like I belong in the world again.”

“You deserve that much,” Ethan said, voice soft. “Do whatever makes you happy, Charlotte.”

Just then, the door opened and Cassian walked in—with a man I instantly recognized. The burly man who’d driven us back to safety after the crash that nearly killed us.

Only this time, he wasn’t empty-handed.

He carried a massive black duffel, which he dropped on the glass coffee table. Unzipping it, he began pulling out box after box.

My brows knit in confusion. And then my jaw parted.

Inside were rows of iPhone boxes. Dozens.

Cassian didn’t smile. He stood with that unreadable mask he wore so well—still, sharp-eyed.

“You’ll be twenty-two soon,” Cassian said, motioning to the pile of phones like he wasn’t entirely proud of it. “So I got you twenty-two iPhones. One for every year you’ve survived without me the way I should’ve been there.”

I blinked. “Because Ethan got me one phone?”

Cassian didn’t even flinch. “Because no other man should be buying my wife anything.”

His voice was low, frayed at the edges. “Because it kills me that he got to you first. Because I still wake up choking on dreams where you’re dead—and when I realize you’re not, all I can think about is giving you everything. Even if it’s ridiculous. Even if it’s too late.”

He reached into his coat, pulled out a black metal card, and slid it across the table like it was nothing. But the gleam of the American Express Centurion was impossible to ignore.

“It’s yours,” he said. “Spend it however you want. No limits.”

I stared at the pile of phones. At the black card lying like a threat. At Ethan, who sat frozen beside me.

“So this is your version of sorry?’ I said.”‘Drown me in money so I forget how you buried me.”

I didn’t raise my voice, but the words landed like gunfire.

Cassian didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring slightly—as if the guilt was too big to swallow.

“Is that what you think?” he said finally. “That I’m trying to buy forgiveness?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You think any of this even scratches the surface of what I owe you?”

I stared at him. I wasn’t sure what answer I wanted.

“And if you said no? If you told me you didn’t want anything from me?”

His voice was low. Controlled. And dangerous in its restraint.

Before I could answer, Cassian made a subtle gesture—so small it was barely noticeable.

But Brooks moved instantly.

He seized Ethan by the collar and forced him to his knees in front of me.

I jumped to my feet, heart thudding. “Don’t touch him!”

Brooks didn’t respond. Neither did Cassian—their silence said everything: possession, power, and a line I was never meant to cross.

Cassian didn’t flinch. “Brooks is my most trusted guard. He’s killed more men than I care to count—and he doesn’t hesitate when I give an order.”

Ethan didn’t speak. His jaw was locked, but the flicker of fear in his eyes betrayed him.

“Brooks,” I said, voice tight, “let him go.”

Brooks didn’t even look at me. “I take commands from one person.”

The air thinned.

This wasn’t a bluff. It never had been. I was standing in the middle of a world that didn’t play by rules—where power meant obedience, and love often came twisted in chains.

“Cassian,” I said carefully, “Ethan is just a friend.”

“I’m aware.” Cassian’s eyes stayed on me, his tone eerily calm. “And yet he keeps acting like something more. Buying you gifts. Standing too close. Smiling like he’s earned something he hasn’t.”

“Please,” I whispered. “You don’t need to do this.”

His gaze sharpened. “Then he needs to stop acting like your fucking boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t.” My voice cracked slightly. “You’re reading too much into this.”

Cassian looked away for a moment, as if steadying himself. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t risk it again—not to a man who thinks kindness gives him a place in your head.”

Cassian turned slightly, speaking low but clear. “She needs to understand that protecting her isn’t clean or gentle. It’s war.”

Brooks didn’t move, his grip still firm on Ethan’s shoulders—one hand near the base of his skull, the other under his chin, positioned with lethal precision.

I moved slowly, picking up the iPhone Ethan had given me earlier, the one that had felt like a lifeline—like a symbol of freedom. Now it felt like a liability.

I walked over and crouched in front of him, my voice soft. “Thank you, Ethan. Truly. But this world—it’s not ours. We don’t survive here by being decent.”

I placed the phone in his lap gently. “I’ll... use one of the twenty-two.”

Cassian watched in silence, his jaw locked, his approval cool and dangerous. “Tell him,” he said. “Say it.”

I hesitated, meeting Ethan’s eyes. They were tired, hurt—but steady. He understood before I even spoke.

“You can’t visit again,” I said quietly. “Please. Just... don’t come back.”

Ethan gave a faint nod, swallowing hard. “Got it.”

“Now let him go,” I said firmly, rising to my feet.

Cassian gave a subtle nod, and Brooks released him, stepping back like a shadow vanishing into silence.

The air shifted. Lighter. But not by much.

“Didn’t you say you had something to tell us about Vincent?” Cassian asked, his voice smooth now—controlled and cold. Like nothing had happened at all.

Ethan stood, brushing his hands down his jacket, composing himself. “I did,” he said. “But let’s get one thing clear—I didn’t come here as a threat. I came because I care. About Charlotte. About her healing. And despite what you may think, I’m not trying to turn her against you.”

Cassian didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed but his lips stayed pressed shut.

I stepped in between them, placing a hand on Cassian’s arm—not to stop him, but to steady him. To remind him I was still here, choosing to stand in the middle of this storm.

“Please,” I said, “let him speak.”

A beat passed. Brooks was gone now, and some of the tension drained from the room.

Ethan exhaled. “Vincent’s being held by the Volkov Bratva.”

Cassian’s gaze stayed cold, like he’d known all along. Of course he had.

“They took him to settle a debt your father owed,” Ethan went on. “I only found out recently. I’ve been working my way through their networks quietly—watching, listening, waiting for a chance to help.”

“And why are you telling us?” Cassian asked, his tone razor-sharp.

“Because I needed proof.” Ethan said. “You’re not exactly known for mercy.”

Cassian smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. I’m not.”

“I used to date the Volkov Bratva’s second daughter,” Ethan went on. “I still have access to the estate. I can plant cameras. Track movements. Help you get Vincent out—if you’ll stop trying to kill me long enough for me to help.”

I turned to Cassian, watching his profile. The shift in his jaw. The way his fingers twitched like he was still weighing whether Ethan was a threat worth eliminating—or an ally he didn’t trust.

“Let him try,” I whispered. “For Vincent.”

Cassian didn’t look at me, but his voice came low. “You have one shot. You lie, you die.”

Ethan gave a tight nod. “Understood.”

Cassian said nothing for a while, then finally sat beside me. His jaw was tight. His hand found mine under the table—not possessive, not forceful. Just... there.

I didn’t pull away.

“Do you have a family?” He asked quietly, turning to Ethan.

Cassian didn’t hesitate. His voice was sharp—like a blade against glass.

“Because if you interfere with the Bratva, they won’t come after you first. They’ll come for your family. All of them. That’s how this works. You don’t get to poke the bear and walk away untouched.”

Ethan didn’t flinch. “I’m aware of the risks.”

“No, you’re not,” Cassian said flatly. “You think you’re smart, but you’re assuming the Bratva don’t have tech guys smarter than you, better funded than you. They do. You’re not invincible, and you’re not untouchable. Stay out of it. I already have men on the inside.”

Ethan’s expression hardened. “Your men didn’t find Charlotte. I did. While you were tearing continents apart, I walked into a psych ward and got her out. Maybe don’t underestimate me either, Mr. Moretti.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked with warning. “So why are you here, then? If you’re such a hero, why not do it yourself?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I need backup.” Ethan folded his arms. “I need at least two of your best men stationed at my place full-time. And I want armed coverage when I’m out. Give me that, and I’ll get Vincent out within two weeks.”

I looked between them, anxiety twisting in my chest. This felt like something volatile—something one word away from exploding.

Cassian let out a low, dark laugh. “You think you’re royalty, boy? Do you have any idea how much my men cost me per month?”

“You’re one of the wealthiest men on the eastern seaboard,” Ethan said calmly. “And this is for your wife’s brother. That makes it your problem.”

Cassian went quiet. He turned to me. “Charlotte. Do you care about this boy?”

“He’s my friend,” I said honestly. “He’s more like family now.”

“And you don’t want him dead.”

I shook my head. “Of course not.”

Cassian stared at Ethan again. “Then tell him to walk away. Because that’s what the Bratva does—they kill. And I don’t want you losing someone else you love.”

“I’m not backing down,” Ethan said, voice even. “You’ll have to learn to live with that.”

I looked at him, uncertain. “Ethan... are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said gently. “Trust me.”

I wanted to. God, I did. But I’d seen what Cassian was capable of. I’d seen what the Bratva could do. And suddenly, this didn’t feel like loyalty—it felt like a death sentence wrapped in good intentions.

“I don’t know,” I said, voice quiet. “I want Vincent back... but not like this. Not if it means losing you.”

Ethan stepped forward, calm but resolute. “I’ve risked my life for less. If I die doing this, I’ll die knowing I did something that mattered.”

Cassian stood, the chair groaning slightly under his shift in weight. He stared down at Ethan with pure suspicion.

“Why?” he asked, voice low. “Why would you risk everything for her? And don’t give me that bullshit about childhood friendship. What’s the real reason?”

I reached for his arm, sensing the heat rising beneath his skin.

“I’m not in love with her, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ethan said simply. “She matters to me. That’s enough.”

He adjusted his jacket and glanced at me, then turned back toward the door.

“Oh, and Charlotte—tell him about the party,” he said over his shoulder before walking out.

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “What party?”

I swallowed. “Ethan invited me. It’s tomorrow. Just something small... fun. He thought it might help me feel a little normal again.”

Cassian didn’t speak. He just stared at the door Ethan had walked through, like he was considering whether to burn it down or follow him out.

I pulled my hand back and sank onto the couch, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “There’ll be music, games... dancing.” I looked up at Cassian. “I want to go. I need to. Just for a few hours—to feel like myself again.”

His expression barely shifted. “There are a thousand ways to have fun, Charlotte. Why does it have to be a club?”

“It’s not some grimy underground rave. It’s a private venue—safe and controlled.” I paused. “I’ve been locked away for a year, Cassian. Watched. Caged like an animal.”

My voice cracked slightly, but I kept going. “I just want to feel normal again. To laugh. To move without fear. To exist in a space that isn’t haunted by what happened. Just for one night.”

“Please,” I whispered, my voice dipping as I met his gaze. “Let me have this.”

He looked away quickly, jaw tightening. “Don’t give me those eyes.”

“Why not?” I asked, trying to hide the hint of a smile.

“Because when you look at me like that...” He exhaled sharply. “You know I can’t say no.”

“So... that’s a yes?” I asked softly.

He let a long beat pass. Then: “Only if I come with you.”

“You can—if you promise not to hover like a storm cloud the whole time.”

“I won’t hover,” he said, but his tone darkened slightly. “But if any man touches you, or even looks at you the wrong way, I’ll break something. Probably his fingers first.”

“Cassian...”

He tilted his head slightly. “You know how I am. You’re asking me to walk into a room full of strangers with you looking like that. If that’s a risk you’re willing to take—fine. I’ll be there.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I looked away. I’d go. I’d dance. I’d pretend, for one night, that life didn’t feel like a battlefield.

But first, I’d need to find the perfect dress. Something that said:

I am Cassian Moretti’s wife. Touch me—and die.