Page 12 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

We turned down a narrow hallway and entered a clean room tucked behind a service door—sterile, quiet, probably meant for emergencies. The woman eased Ethan into a chair, grabbing a med kit from the counter.

He winced, trying to speak, but his mouth was too swollen. Too bloodied.

“Mr. Luca,” the woman said carefully, eyeing him. “Please. I need you to leave so I can treat him.”

Luca scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. “I go where I want. Unless you’re in the mood to catch a bullet to the skull, I suggest you stop paying me attention.”

My patience snapped.

I backed toward the door, my pulse racing. Enough was enough.

Where the hell is Cassian?

He promised to keep an eye on me. To stay close.

I gritted my teeth and reached for my phone. If he wouldn’t come to me—then I was dragging this chaos to him.

I turned away from Luca and headed back toward the main hall, my heels clicking faster now. But he followed—relentless.

“Even if it takes ten years for you to realize I’m the one for you, I’ll wait,” he called out behind me.

Just as I reached the hallway’s edge, his hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me back. My back hit the wall with a dull thud.

“Let go!” I screamed, kicking him in the groin.

He grunted, but recovered fast, slapping me hard across the face. Pain bloomed white behind my eyes.

“Stop kicking me, Charlotte. I’m not the monster here,” he growled, breath hot and sour against my cheek.

I struggled, his body too close, his weight suffocating.

I kicked again, harder. He staggered back just enough, and I broke free, darting to the nearest support beam. I grabbed a metal pole and charged—but he caught it, using his forearm to block the blow, then pinned me again with a violent shove.

“Wait! Just listen to me—”

But I wasn’t there anymore.

My breath came ragged. Cold sweat clung to my back. The club melted around me. The flashing lights blurred into the strobe of psych ward torture drills. The music distorted into shrill alarms. Luca’s face shifted—became Nurse Callahan’s. Or Dr. Hargrove. I didn’t know.

I screamed. A full-body, soul-breaking scream. The kind that shreds your throat on the way out. My nails raked the wall, my legs collapsed beneath me.

Luca let go instantly, stumbling back. “What the—?”

I turned to him, trembling violently. “Don’t—don’t inject me again. I’ve been good. I’ve been good, haven’t I? Don’t lock me down again. Please don’t sedate me—”

He stared, dumbfounded.

The world tipped sideways. I turned left and saw Cassian. Right—and Ethan, now sporting a thick bandage beneath his jaw.

But something was wrong.

Cassian looked like Ethan. Ethan looked like Cassian.

I couldn’t tell who was who. Three men around me. Two familiar. One evil. But the evil one—the doctor—was still here.

I ran blindly to the left, collapsing into someone’s arms. “He’s hurting me,” I cried. “That doctor—he tied me down, said I was broken. Said I’d hallucinated the real world. He tried to make me forget who I was...”

The arms around me tightened. Warm. Steady. Safe.

Not Cassian’s scent.

Ethan.

Cassian charged at Luca with a roar, and suddenly chaos erupted. Fists. Blood. Screams.

Luca slammed into the bar, but Cassian didn’t stop—he kept hitting, like he wanted to erase him from the earth.

I clung tighter to Ethan, turning my face into his chest as the crowd gasped.

“Don’t leave me,” I begged when he tried to pull away. “Please, Ethan—don’t go.”

“I need to help him—”

“No,” I sobbed. “Please stay. You’re the only one who didn’t hurt me.”

Cassian looked back, bloodied and breathless, eyes locking on me. But I didn’t move. Didn’t run to him.

I was curled into Ethan’s side, trembling like a leaf. And for once, Cassian didn’t chase me.

He just stood there, watching the woman he loved choose someone else for safety.

And it shattered him.

Then:

“HANDS IN THE AIR! THIS IS THE POLICE!”

Blue and red lights strobed across the windows. Uniformed men stormed in.

I didn’t know who called them. Maybe a guest. Maybe someone finally noticed the screaming.

They didn’t cuff Cassian. Or Luca. But they escorted them both out like wolves too dangerous to leash.

Ethan led me gently back to the treatment room where he’d been patched up earlier. The lights were softer there. The air, quieter.

He wrapped a duvet around me and knelt beside me. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I don’t want the injection,” I whispered, rocking. “Don’t let him inject me.”

“No one’s injecting you, Charlotte. You’re safe.”

Five minutes later, Cassian burst in, his face pale with panic.

“I didn’t know—things escalated too fast.” His voice broke as he crouched near me.

I flinched away from him and gripped Ethan harder.

Cassian reached out—“Let me help you—”

“Don’t touch me!” I shrank back, trembling harder. “Don’t come close.”

He froze.

His face cracked. Just a little. Enough to show real pain.

“I’m not him,” Cassian whispered. “I would never hurt you.”

But I couldn’t tell anymore. My mind couldn’t draw the line. I stared at him like he might pull out a needle and drag me back into hell.

“Charlotte,” Ethan said gently. “Do you want to lie down?”

I nodded weakly.

Cassian stood as Ethan lifted me and helped me to the bed. I looked at him—Cassian—one last time, still unsure if he was friend or predator.

“I don’t want to go home,” I murmured. “I just... wanted to dance tonight.”

Cassian swallowed. “You’re exhausted. Let’s rest here.”

“No,” I whispered. “I’ll rest. But I still want to stay.”

He nodded, voice low. “Then I’ll wait with you. However long it takes.”

He sat in the chair by the bed—watching me.

But I didn’t look at him again.

I lay curled in Ethan’s shirt, surrounded by soft lights and muffled music.

I didn’t know when I drifted off—but when I woke, the room was dim and quiet. The party had gone still. The music silenced.

Cassian was sitting beside me, elbows on his knees, head bowed like a statue carved from grief.

I pushed myself up slowly. My throat was dry. “Is the party still on?”

He lifted his gaze. There was a sadness there. “No. It ended an hour ago. Everyone’s gone.”

My heart kicked. “Where’s Ethan?”

Cassian hesitated. That pause—too long, too careful.

“Cassian.” My voice sharpened. “Where is he?”

“He went to her place,” he said finally. “His ex. He was going to plant something—tech. A tracker. Maybe a bug. Try to find where they’re keeping Vincent.”

My stomach flipped. “But why would he do that alone? He’s still injured. You saw what Luca did to him—”

“He insisted. Said he needed a reason to keep moving. I couldn’t stop him.”

“And you just let him go?” I whispered, the ache rising in my throat.

“Can’t leash a grown man,” Cassian said tightly. “But your father... he already paid the Volkovs. None of us knew.”

My breath caught.

He looked at me, voice low and lethal. “Vincent’s been released. But he didn’t go home.”

I stared. “Wait... What?”

His expression was unreadable. “He’s with them now. With your father. With Luca. And the Bratva.

A chill slid down my spine.

“They’ve aligned,” he continued. “Three families who should never be in the same room now whisper together behind locked doors. And whatever they’re planning... it isn’t small.”

I swallowed hard. “Why would they even—what do they want?”

Cassian didn’t blink. “You.”

My breath hitched.

“You’re the leverage. The legacy. The piece they all want to control,” he said, voice razor-sharp. “And they won’t stop until they own you.”

I swallowed hard. “Why me? What more could they possibly want now?” My voice cracked. “They already locked me up. Drugged me. Left me to rot in that psych ward like I was nothing. What more is there left to destroy?”

His jaw tensed. “Everything. And it starts with what our grandfathers built.”

I frowned. “What does this have to do with our grandfathers?”

He stepped closer. “Your grandfather and mine... they didn’t just build empires. They buried one—together. A vault. Deep underground. Full of gold, ledgers, codes... wealth and secrets meant to outlive them both. But it was sealed. Protected by a blood clause.”

My brows drew in. “Blood clause?”

Cassian nodded. “It can only be opened if a Moretti and a Grayson are married—for a set number of years. That’s why you matter. Not just because you’re a Grayson. Because you married me.”

I went still.

“That’s why your father wanted you to marry Luca so badly. Why he lost control and slapped you on your wedding day when you said ‘I do’ to me instead.”

My breath caught.

He needed a Moretti. Any Moretti. But he preferred Luca—someone he could control. Someone who’d hand over the vault once it was unlocked and then discard you like nothing.”

My stomach twisted. “So Luca doesn’t want me. He wants the key.”

Cassian’s voice dropped, deadly calm. “Exactly. Marry you. Unlock the vault. Cut you loose.”

“And the Bratva?”

“They’re backing the play now. Your father. Luca. The Bratva. And Vincent, apparently. All tied together. They want what’s under that estate—and you’re the final piece.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Cassian...” My voice shook. “What are we going to do?”

“If they’re planning to take you—” his jaw clenched—“I’ll burn every last one of them. I don’t care if it starts a war. I don’t care who I have to kill.”

I looked away.

My voice came out hoarse. “Luca said you couldn’t afford to fight the Volkov bratva. That the Morettis signed a treaty with the Volkov Bratva ten years ago. That you’re neutral.”

He nodded once. “We are. My father signed that pact to keep our blood off the streets. To protect what we built. But if they’re coming for you—” he turned, voice low—“then the treaty dies with them. I’ll drag theminto hell before I let them lay another finger on you. I’ll raze their kingdom to the ground.”

He stood and offered his hand. “Come. Let’s get out of here.”

I took it, more from exhaustion than trust.

Back at the estate.

The silence of the drive home gave me too much space to think. The weight of what I’d learned coiled tighter around my ribs.

As we stepped into the house, I turned to him. “Did you kill Luca?”

“No,” he said calmly. “But I took two of his fingers. Snapped his wrist. Crushed his knee. I saw what he did to you. What he tried. If he touches you again, I’ll bury him alive.”

My heart pounded. Not from fear. From the part of me that wanted justice. That needed it.

He added, voice steel-cut, “I already had the security feed pulled. I watched the footage. Every frame. And I swear to you, Charlotte, if anyone so much as thinks of hurting you again, they’ll vanish.”

I swallowed. “Don’t make promises you didn’t make back then.”

His face twisted. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m not that man anymore.”

I stepped back. “You’re still the man who mocked my scars.”

That landed like a punch.

He flinched. “I was a coward,” he said hoarsely. “And a cruel one. I’ve been trying every day to undo it. But I know—I know I don’t deserve forgiveness yet.”

“You don’t.”

Silence.

“Now that Vincent is found,” I whispered, “I still want the divorce. Even if you fight for me every second. Even if part of me wonders who you’ve become.”

He nodded slowly, like the movement scraped against bone.

Then he said, quietly—almost to himself, “I’ve ripped my soul apart to stitch yours back together. But it’s not enough, is it?”

I couldn’t answer.

His voice broke like glass. “I can survive your hatred. Your silence. But not your absence. Not the thought that I destroyed the only thing that ever made me want to be more.”

He looked away then—shoulders tense, but it was the way he turned that shattered something in me.

Because no matter how much he gave, how much he bled... It just wasn’t enough to unburn what he’d already set on fire.