Page 15 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

He just dragged on his cigarette and rolled down the window a crack. The cherry-red ember glowed like the shame I wanted to burn into his skin.

“You know,” Luca went on casually, “when I marry you—because I will, you’ll finally understand what it means to be tamed.”

I flinched. “I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged,” he said lightly. “But you’re far too valuable for that. Once your divorce goes through—oh, wait. Cassian hasn’t signed it, has he?” He laughed cruelly. “That man may be groveling like a whipped dog, but he’s not stupid. He knows what your blood means.”

I closed my eyes, hands trembling in my lap.

They were going to use me.

Trade me. Breed me into a key.

“And Ethan?” I rasped. “What are you going to do to him?”

Luca’s voice dropped. “Haven’t decided. Maybe shoot him again. Maybe send him home in pieces. Depends on your behavior.”

“You touch him,” I said, voice thin and shaking, “and I swear—”

“You’ll what? Cry?” Luca looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Spare me. You think your love means anything in a war like this?”

The air inside the car thickened. My breathing became erratic.

Because I could smell the blood.

Even through the vents. I could smell it.

And I could feel Ethan’s pain radiating through the metal barrier between us. I didn’t know if he was conscious, if he was fading. I didn’t even know if he’d make it through the night.

“Stop the car,” I whispered.

No one moved.

“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” I screamed.

Luca swerved slightly, amused. “My bride has a temper.”

“I’m not your fucking bride,” I snarled. “You’ll never touch me. You’ll never own me. Even if I’m dead.”

Vincent flicked ash from his window.

That was when the tears came, neither soft nor cinematic, just violent and ugly.

I was sobbing uncontrollably now, shaking so hard I nearly hit the door with my shoulder. I didn’t care. I wanted to open it mid-motion. Jump. Die. Anything but this.

Vincent finally looked at me.

For one second, his expression shifted—almost something human. But it passed. Like a mask settling back on his face.

“You used to protect me,” I cried. “You used to say I was the only person who never wanted anything from you. And now... now you’re doing this?”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t. Because the truth was loud in the silence.

He’d chosen his side.

And it wasn’t mine.

We drove for what felt like an eternity.

I lost track of time. Of miles. Of blood.

Until finally—

The car stopped.

A large rusted gate groaned open in front of us, guarded by Bratva men with rifles and dead eyes. We rolled into a compound surrounded by pine trees and floodlights. Industrial.

“Home sweet home,” Luca said, killing the engine.

My heart shattered against my ribs.

Cassian wasn’t coming.

Maybe he didn’t even know.

Maybe the blood trail in the woods was already drying in the dirt.

They opened the trunk.

Ethan didn’t move.

“Get him inside,” Luca barked, voice sharp with irritation. “If he dies too quickly, we lose our leverage.”

Two men dragged Ethan out like a corpse. His body hung limp, blood streaking down his leg and onto the concrete. I lurched forward, tried to follow, but Vincent grabbed my shoulder.

“You’re staying with me.”

“You’re disgusting,” I spat.

“Maybe,” he said coldly. “But I’m still your brother.”

“No,” I whispered. “You’re not.”

He didn’t flinch. He just shoved me toward the building.

My last glance was at Ethan’s body, disappearing through a steel door.

The blood trail followed like a breadcrumb path into hell.

The room they shoved us into was nothing more than a converted cellar—stone walls, metal door, no windows. Damp. Cold.

The kind of cold that settled into your bones and made you forget you ever felt warmth.

They dropped Ethan beside me like trash. Still bleeding. Still unconscious. And still cuffed.

I scrambled toward him the moment the door slammed shut.

“Ethan. Ethan—wake up.”

A low groan left his throat. He shifted his head, wincing, blood smeared across his temple. He blinked once. Then twice.

“You’re here,” he rasped.

Tears pooled again. “Of course I’m here.”

“No. I mean... you stayed.”

“I stayed,” I whispered. “You’re not alone.”

He coughed, and it sounded wet. I grabbed a filthy cloth from the floor and pressed it to the gunshot wound in his thigh, trying to stop the bleeding. He hissed but didn’t push me away.

Then his eyes fluttered open wider. “My coat pocket,” he croaked. “Inside. There’s a tracker. Small. Press it three times.”

“What?”

“Do it, Charlotte,” he breathed. “It reaches Cassian.”

Cassian.

The name cracked inside my chest like lightning in a bone-dry sky.

My hands trembled as I reached into Ethan’s pocket. A small black chip, no bigger than a button, sat between my fingers. I looked down at it, pulse roaring in my ears.

I didn’t want to call him.

But I didn’t have a choice.

Cassian—the man I ran from, the one I said I hated. The one I served divorce papers. The one I left.

And yet... the only one who could get us out of here alive.

I clicked the device once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

Then a faint buzz. A green light blinked.

A voice clicked on, muffled but clear. “This is Brooks.”

I jerked upright. “Brooks? Can you hear me? It’s Charlotte. I need to talk to Cassian. Right now.”

There was a long pause.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“What?”

“His condition got worse because of you,” Brooks said coldly. “He signed your damn divorce papers. I’ll have them delivered.”

The words cut..

He signed them?

I wanted that. I begged for it.

But now that it was real, now that it was done—I felt something inside me break.

I thought of him at my hotel room door. Eyes hollow. Voice cracking. Begging.

And I slammed the door in his face.

“What condition?” I asked shakily. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s unavailable,” Brooks snapped. “And frankly, you’re no longer his wife. You don’t deserve to know.”

“Please—please, listen—Ethan and I, we’ve been kidnapped. Luca and Vincent—my brother—they’re holding us somewhere, some Bratva compound. I don’t know how long we have.”

“I heard you.” His voice hardened. “But maybe you didn’t hear me. He. Is. Incapacitated. Because of you. No one is coming, Charlotte.”

“No—Brooks, please—”

“You made him fight when he was already bleeding. You broke him. So if you want saving—” his voice turned venomous, “save yourself.”

The call cut off.

Silence.

Thick. Violent.

I stared down at the dead device in my hand like it was my own heart. Cold and useless.

He signed the divorce papers.

Cassian Moretti—the man who once vowed he’d never let me go—had finally let go.

Because of me.

Because I pushed and pushed and never looked back.

I curled into the corner of the cell, pulled my knees to my chest, and let the sobs rip through me. Raw, noisy and undignified. A sound only the broken could make.

Ethan stirred beside me. “He’s not coming?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Charlotte...” his voice cracked, weaker now. “Are we going to die here?”

I pressed my forehead against the cold wall, whispering through a throat full of shards, “We’re doomed.”

I hated myself.

I hated my father.

I hated the men upstairs planning how to carve me into a contract.

I hated that I still wanted Cassian—wanted him to come charging through that door like he used to.

But he wouldn’t.

Not this time.

I asked for a divorce.

And I got it.

Now all I had left... was nothing.