Page 16 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CHARLOTTE

The room was cold, damp, and smelled like mildew and dried blood.

There was no bed, no blanket—only filth. My throat burned. I hadn’t had water in hours, and my lips were cracked and dry.

Ethan lay next to me on the floor, barely conscious, a filthy rag tied tightly across his back to stem the bleeding. Another wrapped clumsily around his thigh. I had used the edge of my shirt to soak up the worst of it, but it wasn’t enough.

“If the bullet’s not removed...” Ethan rasped, voice thin, breath shallow, “I might not make it.”

My heart cracked.

“No. No, don’t say that.”

I stood up, my legs wobbling, and staggered to the rusted iron door. I pounded it with both fists, screaming until my voice was raw.

“Help! Somebody help us! He’s going to die!”

I didn’t care if they beat me for it.

I pounded until the skin on my hands split and bled. Until I sank to the floor, sobbing, broken.

I crawled back to Ethan and pulled his head onto my lap, brushing sweaty hair from his face, whispering, “Stay alive. Stay with me. Please.”

Ethan tried to smile. “You’re... the bossiest nurse I’ve ever had.”

I laughed—choked on it. “Shut up, idiot.”

His eyes kept drifting. He was slipping.

Then—

A soft vibration buzzed in my pocket.

The device.

I scrambled for it with shaking fingers, praying it wasn’t too late.

“Hello?” I whispered. “Please—hello?”

“Stay on the line. I’m tracking your location,” came Brook’s voice—harsh, cold, like he didn’t want to be the one calling.

Relief hit me like a punch. “Okay,” I said quickly.

“Ethan, stay with me, okay? Cassian’s bodyguard just called.”

“Where is he?” I asked Brooks. “Cassian... is he okay?”

“You don’t get to ask that,” Brooks snapped. “You don’t get to pretend you care now.”

“I do care!” I yelled. “Please. Just tell me if he’s alive.”

Silence.

Then another voice—weak but unmistakable.

“Charlotte...”

Cassian.

I sucked in a breath. “Cassian. Your brother and Vincent locked me up. They shot Ethan—he’s dying.”

“I’ll get you out,” he said. His voice—hoarse, like it took effort just to speak. But determined. “I promise.”

Tears spilled again. “What’s wrong with you?” I whispered. “You’ve been hiding something from me. Haven’t you?”

A pause.

“You’re right. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

Another pause. Then quietly—“Because it won’t. Not in the long run.”

A sound cracked near the door.

I jolted.

“I have to go,” I whispered into the device. “The door—someone’s coming.”

I shoved the device into the corner, hiding it beneath a loose stone.

Luca entered, smug as ever, a man in a white coat trailing behind him with a medical kit.

“Please,” I said quickly, standing protectively over Ethan. “Don’t shoot him again. Please.”

Luca waved a hand like he was swatting a fly. “Relax. I’m not an animal. That’s what the doctor’s for.”

I watched, heart pounding, as the man kneeled beside Ethan, stabilizing him. He removed the bullets carefully, Ethan fainting and waking again with each tug of metal.

I held him the entire time. My lap cradled his head. My hands held his blood.

“Seems like you care more for him than your own husband,” Luca murmured, crouching in front of me with that serpent smile.”

“Get away from me!” I snapped, but I couldn’t move. Ethan needed me still.

He leaned closer. “Cassian signed the divorce papers. Surprised? I didn’t think that bastard ever would.”

My throat clenched. That shouldn’t hurt—but it did.

“Now that you are officially free to marry me,” Luca said, grinning with the smug satisfaction of a man who thought he’d already won. “The wedding’s next week. Until then... you stay here. Locked up, like the priceless little vault key you are.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Why? Why do you have to lock me up like I’m property?”

“Because if I let you out, you’ll run back to Cassian. And I can’t have that. Once we’re married, you’ll have more freedom.”

“Go to hell,” I whispered.

He only smirked. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Then he stood and left.

When the door slammed shut, I rushed to the stone and dug out the device.

“Cassian? Are you still there?”

Brook’s voice came through. “Keep it on. We’ve located the building, but we need the exact room.”

My breath caught.

“Okay,” I whispered.

The door slammed open again.

“I heard voices,” Luca said, stepping in.

Panic seized my chest.

“No, no, please—”

“Hand it over,” he growled.

I hesitated too long. He yanked the device from me.

He examined it, his brow furrowed. “How the fuck are you using this?”

Then into the mic, he sneered, “Cassian, is that you? Speak, coward.”

Without waiting, he hurled the device to the floor and stomped on it until it was nothing but wires and dust.

He turned to me, eyes blazing. “You’re really testing my patience.”

He raised the gun at Ethan again.

I threw myself over Ethan’s fragile, bleeding body. “Please, don’t,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Please, Luca. I’m begging you. He’s not a threat. He’s not even conscious half the time. Just leave him alone.”

Luca’s boots stopped inches from my head.

I couldn’t see his face, but I felt him watching us. Felt the sharp edge of his silence slicing through me. I didn’t move.

His hand twitched at his side. For a second, I thought he might still pull the trigger.

“Luca...” I whispered. “Please. I’m begging you.”

The silence stretched.

Then, with a sharp exhale, he stood. His fingers curled into fists like he was holding something back.

“You’re lucky the bratva still needs him alive,” he muttered, turning sharply on his heel.

I stayed hunched over Ethan, shielding him even after Luca left. My arms were trembling. My breath shallow.

There was no signal now. No voice on the other end. No promise of help.

Just the sound of Ethan breathing—faint, ragged, like each inhale was a battle.

Hours passed and Ethan hadn’t moved—his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, his face waxy, skin clammy.

I stayed curled beside him, arm draped over his middle like I could protect him with my own body.

There hadn’t been food or water since the bullet was dug out of Ethan’s back—and that had been at least four or five agonizing hours ago.

My body was numb, but not from pain. From waiting. From fear.

Cassian... where are you?

I hated myself for thinking of him now. For needing him. I’d filed for divorce. Left him behind. Slammed the door on his face, shattered his heart in my own trembling hands. And yet... here I was.

Still hoping.

Still praying he’d come.

At some point, I must have drifted off. Half-asleep, half-alive, my head pressed against Ethan’s shoulder, my body giving in to exhaustion.

And then—I heard it.

The door.

It burst open.

I jolted upright, disoriented. The light flared behind the silhouette of a man. Tall and rigid. .

Vincent.

My heart thundered, rage replacing the sleep still clinging to my lashes.

“You,” I breathed. “Get the hell out—”

“There’s no time for that,” he snapped, stepping inside, panic flashing across his face. “We need to leave. Now.”

“What?” I blinked. “Why?”

“It’s war,” he said, tone clipped, urgent. “Cassian just broke the neutrality pact his father signed with the Bratva. It’s happening—warehouses are burning. Ships, trucks, ports... All of it. He’s leveling the playing field.”

My chest twisted violently. “He... he declared war?”

Vincent nodded. “And this house isn’t safe. I expect this whole wing will be hit next. We need to get out now.”

He did it... for me?

Even though I divorced him? Even though I told him I couldn’t forgive him?

It cracked something inside me.

No. No, I couldn’t let myself feel that.

“You’re lying,” I whispered. “Cassian wouldn’t—he couldn’t...”

Vincent’s jaw tightened. “He did. All of it. He’s destroying everything. Risking his empire.”

“And you care now?” I said bitterly. “You cuffed me, Vincent. You shot and watched Ethan bleed out. Don’t you dare act like you’re saving me.”

“Charlotte—”

“No. Save yourself.”

His nostrils flared. “I’m going into hiding until this ends. This is your only chance.”

“Then go,” I spat. “And don’t come back.”

There was a beat.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion was massive. The ground shook beneath us, dust falling from the ceiling.

“You’ll die here!” Vincent shouted, fury rising. “You’ll burn and rot and remember I tried to help!”

He stormed out, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Ethan stirred beside me, groaning. “What... what’s happening?”

I knelt beside him quickly. “Cassian. He... declared war to get us out.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Oh God. I caused this...”

“No. You didn’t. You went in for Vincent. You tried to do the right thing. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

He nodded slowly, trying to stand, still groaning from the pain.

I helped him, one hand on his back. My other reached for the door—and I froze.

It wasn’t locked.

The bastard didn’t lock it.

“Ethan...” I whispered. “The door. It’s open.”

He limped over, leaning heavily on the wall, and pushed it open wider. The hallway was chaos—smoke curling through the corridor, flickers of firelight dancing down the walls.

Gunshots rang in the distance.

“We have to move. Now.” Ethan said.

I grabbed his arm. We leaned on each other, navigating the halls slowly. My legs ached. His weight was heavy. We moved around fallen bodies—some Bratva soldiers, others in dark suits I didn’t recognize, their blood pooling on the tiles.

The fire roared closer, black smoke billowing from the left wing, heat singeing my skin—thick, black smoke rolling like a living thing, eating the walls.

“Charlotte,” Ethan rasped, shielding his face. “We have to run.”

We stumbled forward, heat clawing at our skin.

The house was a furnace, flames licking the walls, glass shattering in the distance.

My lungs burned, each breath a struggle. Ethan’s steps faltered, but I pulled him along.

Glass exploded somewhere to our left.