Page 11 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CHARLOTTE

I sat before the mirror, brushing out the final damp waves from my hair. The room smelled faintly of the luxury perfumes Cassian had ordered—too many bottles, like everything else he’d sent in preparation for this party.

Dresses. Shoes. Accessories. Enough to clothe a small nation.

And all of it meant nothing.

He thinks he can drown me in silk and diamonds, but I still remember the white walls of the psych ward. The straps. The drugs. The screams.

And long before that—I remember the one time he couldn’t meet my eyes during sex, turning me around because my chest “ruined the illusion.”

So no, I didn’t pick the red dress. Or the silk. Or the plunging neckline Cassian had probably chosen with shaking hands.

I chose black. A modest cut. A sharp edge. Like armor.

Because tonight, I wasn’t trying to be pretty.

I wanted to feel powerful.

When I stepped outside, Cassian was already leaning on his black Ducati—Sophia. His hair slicked back, his suit impossibly tailored. Only Cassian Moretti would wear a suit to a party meant for fun and games.

His eyes swept over me slowly, possessive and unflinching. “You look...” He stopped himself, like the words burned too much. “Stunning.”

I kept my tone cool. “If we’re taking that thing, my dress won’t survive. Can we use a car, please?” I gave him a look—not playful. Strategic.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “For you.” He walked to the car and opened the door.

I slid in without a thank you. I didn’t owe him one.

In the car.

Cassian drove in silence, his hands firm on the wheel.

“You really wore a whole suit to a club?” I asked.

“I don’t do parties,” he said quietly. “But I’ll do anything to stay close to you.”

I kept my gaze on the window, the city lights blurring. “You had your chance to keep me close. You ruined it.”

He didn’t argue. Just swallowed hard—like the weight of what he lost was sitting in his throat.

We pulled into the underground garage of the club, the hum of the engine fading as Cassian killed the lights. I stepped out first, heels echoing softly against concrete.

Two guards at the entrance moved toward me—straight-backed, hands twitching like they were about to ask for ID. But then they saw him.

Cassian.

Their expressions shifted. One twitched. The other stepped back. And then, like someone had issued a silent command, they both moved aside—parting like the sea for a king.

I turned slightly, arching a brow. “Even these guys know you?”

Cassian didn’t respond at first. His gaze stayed forward, calm but razor-sharp.

“They know whose world they’re standing in,” he finally said. “And who owns the oxygen they’re breathing.”

The music hit as the club doors opened—low bass, warm gold light spilling over the sleek crowd. Laughter. Movement. Freedom.

It felt foreign. I hadn’t seen a room this alive in over a year.

Then I spotted Ethan on the balcony above, surrounded by two guys in casual conversation. He hadn’t noticed me yet.

“Remember,” I said quietly, “you promised not to hover.”

“I remember.” His voice was flat. But beneath it—something tightly coiled.

“I’m going to say hi to Ethan.”

His jaw flexed once. Just once. The silence between us pulsed. Then—

“Fine,” he said, eyes still scanning the room.

I left Cassian behind and pushed through the crowd, the music thudding like a second heartbeat in my chest. I barely noticed the bodies around me—only the staircase ahead. Only Ethan.

But just as I reached the first step, someone blocked my path.

The scent hit me first. Expensive cologne masking something rotten underneath. My stomach turned.

Then the face.

Luca.

A smirk curled on his lips, the kind that made your skin want to peel itself off.

“Charlotte,” he drawled, mock-affectionate. “We finally meet again.”

I froze, instinct screaming. “Don’t act like you don’t know where I’ve been. Locked up. Drugged. Forgotten.”

His chuckle was slow and calculated. “Of course I knew. Tragic situation. My hands were tied.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped, voice low and shaking with hate. “You planned it with my father. You stood by while I was dragged away. You refused to tell Cassian. You let me rot.”

He didn’t deny it.

The way his eyes gleamed said everything. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

I turned to walk away, bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t stomach another second near him.

But then he said it.

“Vincent.”

The name landed like a brick in my spine. I stopped cold. My fingers curled into fists.

I turned slowly. “What about him?”

Luca’s expression shifted—still smiling, but colder now. “He’s with the Volkov Bratva. Taken as collateral for a debt your beloved father couldn’t pay.”

“I already know that,” I said, forcing calm. But my voice wavered.

He took a step closer, like he could smell the fear on me. “Then you must also know Cassian can’t help you. The Moretti family signed a neutrality pact with the Volkov Bratva ten years ago. If he interferes, it’s war.”

I didn’t move. The music thumped somewhere far behind us, blurred beneath the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not doing this out of kindness.”

“No,” he said plainly. “But I do know the Volkov Bratva's boss personally. And for the right... incentive, I could arrange something. Get Vincent out safely.”

A chill crawled up my spine. “What kind of incentive?”

Luca smiled wider, the kind of smile that made your skin want to crawl off your bones.

“Oh, come on, Charlotte. You’re clever. You already know the answer.”

I folded my arms, swallowing the bile in my throat. “You want me to marry you.”

He didn’t flinch.

Luca’s eyes gleamed. “Marry me, Charlotte. It’s simple. I talk to them, you get your brother back. Everyone wins.”

I stared at him. This man. This monster who once beat me, locked me up, and helped my father destroy me.

Luca stared at me, as if waiting for something—acknowledgment, interest, weakness.

I met his gaze coldly. “Look around, Luca. There are hundreds of women here tonight. Pick one. Leave someone else’s wife alone for once.”

I brushed past him.

But I heard his footsteps behind me.

Without turning, I said coolly, “Cassian’s here. And his eyes are on me. Keep following, and you’ll get the beating you’ve been asking for.”

Luca didn’t answer. Just kept trailing me like a shadow that refused to be shaken.

Ethan must’ve spotted me, because I saw him leave the group of men he was speaking with and come down the stairs quickly.

“Charlotte,” he said, his smile warm as he approached. “I’m glad you made it.”

He placed a light hand on my shoulder, steadying me, before clocking the figure behind me. His expression shifted instantly.

“Who’s this?”

“Luca Moretti,” Luca stepped forward smoothly, tone arrogant. “And you are...?”

Ethan paused. His hand on my shoulder tightened slightly, catching the look on my face.

I couldn’t speak.

The lights pulsed behind us—soft blue, red, then white.

White.

Too bright. Too sudden.

Like the overhead lights they used in the ward. Like the ones that flashed during morning drills when they made us run laps barefoot, doped out of our minds.

My breath hitched.

Not now.

The walls of the club blurred, the music became a pulse inside my skull. Too many bodies. Too much sound. My knees nearly buckled.

Ethan bent slightly. “Charlotte,” he said softly. “Is he bothering you?”

I nodded once, barely able to swallow. “Yeah,” I whispered, tasting metal in my mouth. “Please... make him go away.”

Ethan’s eyes flashed with quiet rage. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body.

“I think you should leave, Mr. Luca.”

Luca snorted, stepping forward to tower over him. “You want me to walk away from my brother’s wife? I’m protecting her.”

“Protecting her?” Ethan spat. “From what? Being happy?”

Luca’s gaze darkened. “Who the fuck are you to her?”

“Someone who gives a damn about her well-being,” Ethan said through clenched teeth. “Unlike the rest of you.”

His fists were clenched now. One wrong word and he’d throw the first punch.

Luca took a step closer. “Try it, boy. And you’ll be the one they drag out in pieces.”

“Big words from a man who wasn’t even invited,” Ethan fired back. “Who the hell let you in?”

Luca sneered. “Morettis don’t need invitations to crash parties. Now I’ll say it once, and only once—get out of my way.”

Ethan’s fist shot forward, fast and furious—but Luca moved like he saw it coming. He ducked easily, then drove a brutal uppercut into Ethan’s jaw.

The sickening crack echoed through the hall.

Blood sprayed from Ethan’s mouth as he stumbled back, dazed, clutching his face. He hit the wall with a thud and barely stayed upright.

The music screeched to a halt.

A beat of silence.

Then voices rose.

“Isn’t that Luca Moretti?” someone whispered.

“No way. He doesn’t show up unless something’s about to go down.”

“I heard he once shot a man in the spine for calling him arrogant. In front of his kids.”

“I heard he buried someone alive just for stealing his jacket...”

Panic began to ripple through the crowd, people stepping back, clearing a circle around us.

Ethan’s palm was slick with blood. His voice came out strangled. “You’re fucking insane.”

Luca rolled his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “You swung first. You should be grateful you’re still breathing.”

Ethan lurched forward like he might try again, but I stepped between them, arms out.

“Ethan, don’t,” I said sharply. “It’s not worth it. This is your friend’s party, remember? Don’t let this psycho ruin it.”

He hesitated, breathing hard, his eyes still locked on Luca with pure hatred.

“Come on,” I urged. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Just then, a petite woman pushed through the crowd. “Ethan—God, are you okay?” she gasped, rushing to his side.

He leaned on her, dazed, and I followed them both as she led us away from the chaos.

But Luca followed too.

Of course he did.

I came here to dance. To breathe. To forget. Why the hell did he have to show up?