Page 26 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

“I HATE YOU!” I howled, stabbing again. My hands were slick, the knife slipping, but I caught it, gripped it harder, drove it into my leg.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE ME! I HATE THIS FUCKING WORLD! I HATE THIS BODY!”

The room was smeared with red. My blood. My shame. My fury.

I could barely see myself anymore.

Then—the door burst open.

I didn’t look.

I kept stabbing.

“I hate you!” I screamed as blood coated my palms, my arms, the floor. “I’m not a woman anymore! I’m just meat! A sick joke of a girl! Why didn’t the cancer kill me when it had the chance?!”

A hand grabbed me from behind, strong and urgent, dragging me away from the knife. I screamed, thrashed, tried to claw my way back toward it.

“Stop! STOP—please, Charlotte—”

It was Cassian’s voice. Desperate and frantic.

But I thrashed like a wild animal, sobbing, screaming, clawing.

“Let me die!” I wailed. “Let me fucking die—I am no longer a woman, don’t you get it? I’m a man—an empty thing!”

My body bucked violently in his arms, tears mixing with blood, smearing across his skin. “I’m not a woman anymore, I’m nothing! Just skin and bone and butchered parts! I’m a fucking madwoman!”

“I can’t live like this! I can’t—I can’t!” I cried hard.

He pulled me tighter, one hand on my bleeding thigh, the other around my waist, and for once I didn’t fight him—I collapsed into his arms like a ragdoll, trembling and broken, blood soaking us both.

“I’ll kill everyone who ever made you feel this way,” he whispered. “But please... don’t take yourself away from me.”

But it was too late.

Because the part of me that had once felt alive?

She had already died.

The blood was seeping down the cold tiles like a flood—like I was bleeding out all the things I couldn’t say. My body shook so hard it felt like it would crack into pieces, but still, the arms around me held on.

I let out a guttural sob. My hands were raw and sliced open from the broken glass, my thigh bleeding from shallow stabs, my side hot and wet with more.

And still—I wanted to reach the blade.

“I should have stopped them,” he said, voice hoarse, barely audible over my screams. “Those men—those fuckers—I should have shot them dead right there.”

His breath hitched. “I let my pride blind me. I thought if I didn’t move, it would prove something. But all it proved is I failed you. Again. As a man. As the one who promised to protect you.” His voice cracked, like glass under pressure.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

I couldn’t hear him.

I could only hear the phantom laughter from earlier, the words slicing through me worse than the blade.

“ Another chestless bitch.”

“ Bet she gets changed in the dark”

The camera flash.

The disgust in their eyes.

He scooped me into his arms. My blood smeared against his shirt as he carried me, bridal style, like I was something precious. But I wasn’t precious—I was hollow, defective, leaking pain and grief and shame.

I didn’t fight him this time.

I just let my head fall back, limp and dizzy, my throat gurgling with breath that barely sounded human.

The hallway lights above spun, then blurred, then vanished.

My fingers were so cold.

I couldn’t feel them.

Or my legs. Or anything except the dull, burning throb of flesh torn too many times in too many places.

Let me die.

Let this be the end.

Let the blood stop leaking and take me with it.

His heart was pounding—I could feel it against my back.

But mine... mine was fading. Slowing. Dimming like a flickering lightbulb in an abandoned room.

Cassian was shouting something. Maybe my name. Maybe a prayer. Maybe nothing.

I didn’t care.

The world was slipping away—blurring, softening, like the moment before sleep.

Darkness crept in like an old friend. And I let it take me.

“Charlotte! Please—wake up! I can’t—I can’t breathe without you!”

His voice cracked and somehow, it pierced the silence of the void I was sinking into.

Something inside me stirred—but it wasn’t forgiveness, nor even love.

Just a faint, involuntary ache of recognition.

My eyelids fluttered. Heavy and tired.

Then light.

The blurry ceiling above me wavered into view, too white, too sterile. The air smelled like antiseptic and despair. A steady beeping echoed faintly in the background. Machines. Monitors.

I was alive.

Against my will.

My throat burned. My body felt like stone—but I was alive.

Bandages wrapped my hand, my side, my thigh. My leg throbbed like it was still being stabbed. I tried to move, but a wave of dizziness crashed through me and I slumped back against the pillow.

Then I saw him.

Cassian.

On his knees beside my bed.

His head was bowed, shoulders trembling beneath his dark jacket. His hair was a mess. His knuckles were bloodied. His whole body looked like it had been dragged through hell.

He looked unhinged—his eyes bloodshot behind the blurry lenses of his smart glasses. His hand found mine like he was scared I’d disappear again.

He reached out, trembling, to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched.

His hand froze midair, then dropped.

Silence.

“I don’t want you here,” I said softly. “You don’t get to cry over what you broke.”

Cassian’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

My eyes stung. “You don’t get to weep for a corpse you buried.”

He bowed his head again, broken and defeated. “I know. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m here. I’ll be here... even if you hate me for the rest of your life.”

I turned my face away from him.

Let him kneel. Let him shatter. Let him rot in the wreckage he made.

“I should’ve died the day I let you walk out of my study,” he whispered. “But God didn’t take me. Maybe because He knew I still had to fix this. I need to fix this.”

His words echoed into the silence like a confession offered too late.

“I don’t want to be alive,” I croaked.

He clutched my bandaged hand tighter, like he could anchor me to this world through force alone.

“I know,” he breathed. “But I do. I want you alive, Charlotte. Even if you never forgive me. Even if you never touch me again. I’ll take anything. Just stay. Just fucking stay.”

I turned my head away, but not fast enough to hide the tears.

He collapsed further, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress like he was praying to a god he no longer believed in.

Then, barely audible:

“Marry me.”

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Marry you? What—for love? Or just to unlock the vault? You and Luca must be thrilled.”

“No,” he said instantly, his voice raw with desperation. “You know I’m not like Luca. I don’t have ulterior motives.”

He leaned closer, voice thick with emotion. “Your grandfather wanted you to inherit power—enough to eclipse your father. That’s why he brought you into this world, Charlotte. To make you untouchable. It’s not his fault I ruined you.”

His eyes burned with something dangerously close to grief. “But I’ve seen it now. I see how much I’ve broken you. And I swear to you—I will never let anyone mock you, humiliate you, or hurt you again. Never.”

He swallowed hard, voice cracking as he added, “And if I ever become the one to hurt you again—let me be the first to die for it.”

I laughed again, hysterical now. “What good is power when no one loves you? Not even your own fucking family. Vincent, the only person I ever trusted, just called to say that the Volkov Bratva will kill us if I don’t marry Luca. And he wants me to believe it’s for my own good. My own brother.”

Cassian’s jaw clenched. His whole body looked like it was holding back an explosion.

“Vincent betrayed you,” he said quietly. “But I swear on my fucking soul, Charlotte, I never will again.”

I looked him dead in the eyes. “I don’t believe you. You stood there. You watched me get humiliated in public. You smoked a cigarette while two men laughed at my chest like I was a freak show. You didn’t say a word.”

A beat.

“That’s betrayal.”

His face cracked.

“I was trying to show restraint. But it killed me, Charlotte. I wanted to shoot them both. I should have. I should’ve shown them—shown you—how much you matter to me. Right then. Right there.”

Silence.

Then I yanked my hand away. His touch sickened me. “I hope every time you speak my name, it tastes like ash in your mouth.”.

He looked broken. And that—that hurt more than anything. Because he loved me now. And I no longer had the capacity to love him back.

The beeping beside me kept going. A reminder that I was still here. Still alive.

But I didn’t feel alive. I felt... nothing.

I lay there in that hospital bed, the room silent except for the machine tracking the faint rhythm of my pulse.

Cassian had let go.

And yet I still felt him on my skin—like ash that wouldn’t wash off.

He sat by my bedside in a chair now, hands gripping each other. His voice had gone quiet, like he was scared even the sound of it might send me further away.

I couldn’t feel the IV needle in my arm. Couldn’t feel the bandages wrapping my legs, the gauze over my wrist. Couldn’t feel the shallow ache where my skin had split beneath the knife. I couldn’t even feel the weight of the hospital blanket.

There was a mirror across the room. The angle was just sharp enough to catch my face. My eyes looked hollow—sunken. My lips cracked. There was dried blood around my neck and collarbone. I didn’t recognize myself.

I thought I would cry again. But there were no tears left.

Cassian leaned forward slightly. I didn’t turn. I kept my gaze fixed on that horrible mirror, wondering if I could will my heart to stop.

“Charlotte...” His voice cracked. “Please. Say something. Scream at me. Rip my soul out. Just don’t go quiet on me. Not like this.”

Still, I said nothing.

Because what was there left to say?

That I was tired? That I hated my own skin? That the way the world looked at me now felt like knives?

That even now, I wanted his arms around me—but hated myself for wanting it?

My fingers twitched beneath the sheets. The only sign I was still tethered to this world.

“I’ll fix this,” he said again, softer. I didn’t answer.

My voice was buried somewhere in the blood I spilled.