Page 28 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

I didn’t turn. “Then call them, Cassian. Let them know I’m coming. It’s the least you can do.”

And I was gone.

The short walk to the opposite house felt like a mile.

My entire body screamed with every step—the bandage around my thigh was beginning to itch beneath the denim of my cotton trousers, and my side throbbed where the knife had kissed me.

The padded bra pressing against my chest only reminded me of everything that had been taken. I kept my head low.

I rested once I got inside. Caught my breath. Forced myself not to cry. Then I changed into a looser pair of jeans, tugging them over the gauze. The shirt I wore was long-sleeved and covered me well, but I still felt exposed, a body stitched together in shame.

I walked out, my pulse loud in my ears. Slipping into Cassian’s garage, I picked one of his cars and drove off without looking back. Straight to the hospital where Ethan was being treated.

By the time I made it to the hospital, I was breathless and lightheaded. But the receptionist gave me a nod, letting me through.

At least Cassian had made the call.

When I reached Ethan’s ward, I saw him sitting up slightly, his face pale, thinner than yesterday. The color had drained from him.

His smile still found me. “Charlotte. Are you okay? You look...” He hesitated. “You look sick.”

I forced a small laugh and sat down carefully, hiding the pain as best I could. “I’m fine. What about you? Any improvement?”

He winced. “No. Apparently the wound was badly infected before they treated it. But the doctor said I’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Just then, the door creaked open.

The woman who stepped in had soft curls tucked behind her ears and wore scrubs slightly too large for her frame. She carried a small box and smiled warmly when she saw me.

She was familiar. I realized, startled—she was the same woman from the club. The one who had taken Ethan away after Luca shattered his jaw.

“Hey, Charlotte,” she said.

“Hi...” I greeted, uncertain.

“Charlotte, meet Genevieve,” Ethan said. “She’s my best friend.”

Something inside me stilled.

“Oh,” I said, offering a small nod. “Genevieve. Nice to meet you.”

We exchanged polite smiles. I watched her cross the room and lean over Ethan with a tenderness I wasn’t expecting. She set the box on the table and helped him sit up more comfortably, brushing back his hair, checking the pulse on his wrist, asking softly if he was too cold.

The way he looked at her. The way he allowed it.

Maybe Ethan saw her as a best friend. But I wasn’t sure it was the same on her side.

Or maybe I was projecting. Seeing things that weren’t there. Reading too deeply into simple gestures because I’d been broken too many times to trust anyone’s closeness.

Still... her presence unnerved me.

“Eat, idiot,” Genevieve said, placing a spoon into Ethan’s hand. He tried, but his grip was clumsy.

She rolled her eyes and helped guide it to his mouth. “You’re hopeless.”

“You’re bossy,” Ethan mumbled through a weak laugh.

“Still better than dying on me.”

They bickered for a few minutes until, finally, the tension began to bleed from the room. I found myself smiling despite myself. Then Genevieve turned to me.

“Did he ever tell you about the time he accidentally got handcuffed to a shopping cart?”

Ethan groaned. “Don’t.”

I blinked. “He what?”

“Oh, it was epic,” she grinned, eyes sparkling. “He was helping me film this prank video for my YouTube—back when we were still dumb and broke—and he thought it’d be funny to pretend he was stealing a cart. But the security guy was new and took it seriously.”

“I was trying to impress her,” Ethan muttered under his breath.

“You failed. Spectacularly,” Genevieve beamed.

We all laughed. Even me. It was the kind of laughter that surprised me—the kind that bubbled up from some forgotten part of me that hadn’t been touched in months. It felt light, reckless. Pure.

For a moment, I wasn’t Charlotte the captive. Charlotte the broken. I was just a girl laughing in a hospital room with two people who didn’t treat me like glass.

Then her phone rang.

Genevieve checked the screen, sighed, and answered with a quick, “I’m on my way.” When she hung up, she rolled her eyes. “My boss is officially pissed. I’ve exhausted my break. I’ve gotta go.”

She leaned down, gently helping Ethan adjust the pillows again, then pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll stop by later, okay?”

He nodded, murmuring something too soft for me to hear. Genevieve turned to me with a brief smile.

“Nice meeting you, Charlotte. I hope we get to talk more.”

“Yeah,” I said faintly. “Me too.”

And then she was gone, the door clicking softly behind her.

And suddenly, the room felt colder.

Like reality had crept back in.

Ethan turned to me again, his voice softer now. “Thank you for coming.”

I nodded, unable to look away from the door Genevieve had just walked through. Something inside me twisted.

I wasn’t sure if it was jealousy.

Or the aching realization that someone else had been holding Ethan’s world together while I was drowning in mine.

“She’s beautiful,” I teased lightly, watching Ethan’s face as he laughed weakly.

“She is,” he admitted. “She’s beautiful at heart too.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

He blinked. “No. Why do you ask?”

I tilted my head. “I just saw the way she was looking at you. I think she really likes you. Like... really.”

A crooked smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s my best friend.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Ethan exhaled, voice dropping to something raw. “I don’t think any woman would want a man with a daughter he hasn’t seen in five years.”

“I didn’t fight for her. I didn’t show up. I let her mother take full custody and disappear with her. I told myself it was for the best, but deep down, I knew I was just too broken to be a father.”

He gave a bitter laugh, eyes fixed on nothing. “My daughter probably wouldn’t even recognize me now. And her mom? She hates me. Wants nothing to do with me, or for me to have anything to do with our kid.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m messed up, Charlotte. No decent woman would ever want to end up with someone like me.”

“We all have scars, Ethan. You don’t have to be whole to be worthy of love.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Genevieve deserves more. Not someone who wakes up in cold sweats over things he can’t fix.”

“She still looks at you like you hung the stars,” I whispered.

He shook his head, as if shaking off the weight. “She’s my best friend, Charlotte. I shouldn’t think about that.”

“And what if she already is?”

“She’s not,” he said, too fast. “I know her better than anyone.”

I didn’t argue. As a woman, I saw it—clear as daylight—in Genevieve’s eyes. But he would see it eventually. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

I shifted through the bag she brought for him and pulled out a folded shirt.

“She brought you two clothes.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, stretching slightly. “Something I could change into. She even guessed my size right. Not sure if I should be impressed or terrified.”

I held one up. It smelled like her perfume... and faintly like him.

I chuckled softly. “Can I take this with me?” I held up the spare shirt.

His lips quirked. “Of course. Consider it a souvenir from the saddest hospital visit of your life.”

I smiled softly, folding it with care before resting it on my lap. My fingers brushed the cotton like it was made of glass.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Ethan... be strong, okay? I need to go. The doctor said I shouldn’t be up for too long.”

He studied me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Define okay,” I smiled, and started to rise.

He let out a tired chuckle. “If Cassian’s hurting you... just say the word. I’ll stab him in what’s left of his half-blind eyes.”

I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I waved him goodbye and stepped outside into the frigid New York air. The wind bit at my skin, and I tucked my arms around myself as I approached the car.

But then—I saw him.

Someone leaning against my car.

No. No. No.

Luca.

My heart stopped.

I looked around. Was this a setup? Another kidnapping? Was he here to chloroform me, drag me back to that hellish psych ward?

My body froze, locked in panic. I couldn’t breathe. My hands trembled. The air was thin. Were there masked men hiding in the shadows? Was this how it would end again?

I reached into my bag with shaking fingers and dialed Cassian.

No answer.

Panic hit me like a tidal wave. I felt something wet trail down my leg. Humiliation burned through me.

I was peeing on myself. In the middle of a hospital parking lot.

God, what have they done to me?

The trauma had rewired my body so brutally, I didn’t even have control over my own nervous system anymore.

A memory slammed into me—screams in a white hallway. Masked men holding me down. A needle piercing my skin. My own voice begging them to stop. The silence after the sedation hit.

I was spiraling.

Then—a hand curved around my waist from behind.

I screamed, my entire body convulsing in terror—until a voice, low and steady, whispered against my ear:

“It’s me, baby.”

My whole body froze.

Cassian.

My knees buckled.

I turned, met his eyes beneath the tinted glasses, and everything else—everything—went quiet. The storm inside me paused.

I clung to him like a lifeline.

“Long time no see, brother,” Luca muttered, pushing off the side of my car, hands in his pockets like he owned the asphalt beneath him.

Cassian ignored him, his focus entirely on me.

He turned me to face him, his body a protective barrier between me and Luca.

His fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my face up, and his lips hovered over mine, a silent question in the space between us.

My breath hitched, and I leaned in, giving him the answer he needed. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and possessive, a kiss that consumed me.

I melted into him, my hands fisting his jacket as I sucked on his lower lip, desperate and hungry, like his touch was the only thing keeping me alive.

His grip on my waist tightened, fingers digging into my skin with a need that matched my own.

The world dissolved—Luca, the hospital, the cold New York air—none of it mattered. There was only the heat of his mouth, the slick dance of our tongues, the raw, visceral pull between us. My body pressed against his, every curve molding to his frame, and I didn’t care who was watching.

The kiss was a claim, a defiance.

When we finally broke apart, it felt like an eternity had passed.

My eyes fluttered open, my lips tingling, wet with our shared breath.

His face was close, his glasses slightly fogged, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, our bodies still pressed together. My chest heaved, and I clung to him, unsteady but emboldened.

I turned to Luca, my fear replaced by a fire Cassian had ignited. “What the fuck do you want, Luca?” I demanded, my voice sharp.

He looked rattled. “I thought you two were divorced.”

“So?”

“I asked you a question,” I snapped. “What. Do. You. Want?”

Cassian’s hand gripped mine, grounding me. Silently daring anyone to lay a finger on me.

Luca ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping before he straightened, his voice cold. “Here’s the marriage contract I drafted. Sign it.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Have you gone mad?”

“No,” he said tightly. “It’s the only way to stay alive. The Volkov Bratva is working with me now. You’re vulnerable, Charlotte. You and Cassian are nothing but ants we can squash. This contract is your only hope.”

Cassian said nothing.

I snatched the contract, tore it into pieces, and let the paper fall like ash.

“You manipulated my brother, worked with my father, and aligned with the Volkov Bratva just to force me to marry you? For what? Money? Power? Aren’t you already rich enough?”

Luca’s jaw twitched. His hands clenched and unclenched. I could tell he wanted to hit me.

But Cassian was there. Silent. Watchful. Deadly.

“Cassian,” Luca turned to him, voice rising. “You know better. Talk to her. You signed the divorce papers to protect her. Now convince her to marry me—or she dies. We know where she sleeps. We can get to her.”

He turned to walk away.

Cassian lunged, yanking Luca by the collar with a force that made the air crack.

His fist connected with Luca’s face, a sickening crunch echoing as Luca staggered back, blood streaming from his nose, now skewed to one side.

Cassian stood over him like death.

“Divorced or not,” he growled, “she will always belong to me. Threaten her again—in my presence or not—and I’ll bury you.”