Page 33 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CHARLOTTE

“Charlotte!”

Manuel’s voice caught up with my footsteps, his loafers echoing against the concrete. “Wait—”

He jogged to my side, brows pinched, breath slightly winded. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t slow. Just nodded. Curt. A lump pressed hard against my throat.

“I need to go home.”

Home. If I could even call it that.

“I can see your relationship with your father is... complicated,” Manuel said gently, keeping pace beside me, his voice tentative, like he was trying not to spook a wounded animal.

I almost laughed.

Complicated?

“It is,” I said, voice clipped. “It always has been.”

Manuel paused beside my car, hands casually in his pockets, trying too hard to act unaffected. “Maybe we could try this again,” he said lightly. “Somewhere private. I could book a restaurant just for us—no interruptions, no surprises.”

His voice barely registered.

My mind was still swimming in the thick, black tar of Grayson’s words.

What does he see in you? A woman carved open. Incomplete. Broken

I nodded vaguely. “Maybe.”

My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone—still buzzing violently in my hand. I glanced down.

Cassian.

The screen glared his name at me like a warning.

The moment I answered, I could feel his voice pierce right through me.

“Charlotte.”

Sharp. Alarmed.

“I checked the CCTV footage. You’re nowhere on the estate. Where are you?”

The tension in his tone wasn’t just suspicion—it was terror, laced with fury. My breath caught.

“I... I’m just heading home,” I said, voice barely steady.

“That’s not what I asked.”

His words hit like bullets.

“Where are you, Charlotte? You can’t lie to me—I’ll find out.”

I turned slightly, shielding the phone as Manuel’s voice slipped in close behind me, smooth and casual.

“A friend?”

Cassian’s tone dropped, guttural.

“That’s a man’s voice.”

The growl of a wolf just before it lunges. “Who the fuck are you with?”

I froze.

Then something in me snapped. A part that had been trembling under Grayson’s gaze, under Cassian’s control, under everyone’s suffocating expectations. My spine straightened, chin lifted.

“We’re divorced, Cassian.” My voice was steel. “Stop acting like my husband.”

Silence.

So I gave him no time to strike back.

I hung up.

The screen went black in my hand, but my heart kept thudding, every beat thick with adrenaline.

Manuel raised an eyebrow, his arms now crossed over his chest. “Your ex-husband?”

I gave a clipped nod, eyes skimming away. “Yeah. Long story.”

My voice cracked at the edge.

“I’ll see you some other time, Manuel.”

I pulled open the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and gripped the steering wheel like it might ground me. For a second, all I wanted was to drive until the highway swallowed me whole. But when I turned the key—

Grating. Grinding.

The car lurched with a metallic whine, a sound no engine should ever make. My stomach dropped.

What the hell?

I jumped out, cursing under my breath as I circled the car. The parking garage was dim now, only half the overhead lights flickering to life as dusk swallowed the city.

And then I saw it.

Two tires.

Completely flat. Ripped to shreds. The rubber slumped against the concrete, shredded like someone had taken a knife to them.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

I crouched down, my knees trembling. Not a nail. Not a pothole. This wasn’t random.

This was deliberate.

I straightened slowly, pulse pounding in my ears.

The parking garage had emptied out.

Only a few distant cars remained. No footsteps. No noise. Just the cold creeping of dread up my spine.

My mind raced to Grayson. His cruel smirk.

Had he done this?

Had he slashed my tires to sabotage me—trap me—leave me stranded and exposed?

I scanned the dimly lit garage, heart thudding in my chest. The concrete walls suddenly felt too close. Like a stage set for something awful. My breath hitched as I imagined masked figures stepping out from behind the pillars, moving with gloved hands and zip ties.

I was alone.

With Manuel who had been charming. Soft-spoken. Polite. But still a stranger. And I didn’t know if I could trust him.

Every nerve in my body buzzed.

No one was coming.

No one except—

The monster who would tear the city down just to find me.

Cassian..

But I had just hung up on him. Told him to stop acting like my husband.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I looked over at Manuel, who stood by his car, his back turned to me, phone pressed to his ear.

Something about the way he stood—shoulders slightly tense, his head angled like he was listening carefully—made unease slide deeper beneath my skin.

I took a breath and forced my voice to steady.

“Hey, Manuel.”

He turned almost too quickly. The phone vanished into his pocket in one smooth motion. His face softened into polite concern.

“Charlotte,” he said, brows furrowing. “Why haven’t you left?”

I gestured to my car with a shaky hand. “My tires. They’re flat. Both of them.”

He followed me over, crouching beside the wheels. A low whistle escaped him as he examined the damage.

“Damn. This isn’t a nail-in-the-road situation. They’re totally shredded.”

He stood and dusted off his palms. “No way a shop’s open now, and even if they were, they couldn’t patch this. You’d need replacements.”

I folded my arms tightly across my chest. My skin crawled.

Manuel tilted his head. “How about I drive you home? You can have someone pick up your car tomorrow.”

His offer was too smooth.

I hesitated.

“I could just take an Uber,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. But it came out brittle.

Manuel’s expression faltered. “What?”

He blinked, like I’d insulted him.

“The lot’s practically empty, Charlotte,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “It’s getting dark. I’m offering to drive you because I want to help.”

Then, quieter—slightly colder—“Don’t you trust me to get you home safely?”

That hit like a hook in my gut.

I swallowed hard, every instinct shouting Don’t get in that car.

“It’s not that,” I said quickly, my fingers twisting together at my waist. “I just...”

I couldn’t finish.

“Come on,” he said gently, like coaxing a child into the backseat.

He reached for the door handle.

“I’ll get you home.”

He opened it. Held it. Waited.

I stared at the passenger seat like it was a coffin.

And just then—my phone buzzed in my hand again.

Cassian.

This time I didn’t hesitate. I hit ‘Answer,’ pressing the phone to my ear like a lifeline.

Before I could say anything, his voice came through, rough and dangerous.

“Do not step inside that car.”

I froze.

“I’m just trying to get home—”

“Do not,” he snarled, “step inside that fucking car.”

There was a violent rustle on the other end of the line. Fabric. Heavy breathing. Something crashing.

I froze.

My gaze swept toward the shadows edging the lot, to the red-glow sign of Cielo Rosso, and then back toward the street.

Was he watching me?

The thought knifed through my chest. I turned in a slow circle, scanning the area. No one. Nothing. But I could feel it—the weight of eyes. My skin prickled.

Had he hacked the cameras?

I glanced up, looking for black domes in the corners of the lot or the dull red blink of a recording light.

Nothing.

“Cassian—”

“Get away from him,” he cut me off. “Right now, Charlotte. Step back. Five paces. Turn around. Do it now.”

“Why? What—”

“Because if you sit in that passenger seat, I will rip the steering wheel out of his chest.” His voice fractured, rage spilling in shards. “Do you understand me? I will tear him apart with my hands.”

“Cassian, he didn’t do anything—”

“I don’t care if he didn’t touch you,” he hissed. “I don’t care if he prayed over you. I don’t care if he saved your life. He took you on a date. He put his name next to yours in public. He watched you eat. He looked at your mouth. He wants something. And he’s breathing your air.”

“Are you insane?”

“For you?” A bitter laugh. “Always.”

My throat closed.

“I warned you I wasn’t stable. I told you I’d drag the world to hell if it ever put you in another man’s car.

You think this is jealousy?” His voice cracked—once, like something was unraveling deep inside.

“This is ownership. You’re mine. I don’t care if you hate it.

I don’t care if you ran. You think you’re free, Charlotte? ”

His breath trembled over the speaker. Like he was running. Like something inside him had already snapped.

“You’re not free. You’re mine.”

I backed away from the car.

Manuel was still waiting, holding the door open, glancing at me like I was overreacting.

Like he didn’t feel the storm barreling toward him.

But I did.

Because I knew Cassian Moretti.

I knew the kind of man who would rip out his own eyes to save me—then use what was left of them to find me in the dark.

And I knew that if I got in that car, Manuel wouldn’t make it home alive.

“I told you I would always be watching. Did you think that stopped just because you’re trying to pretend you hate me?” His voice was unhinged now, barely tethered to sanity.

“You’re tracking me?” My voice cracked, half shock, half shame, and somewhere in there, a small part of me relieved.

“You belong to me,” he seethed. “And I don’t share. Not with doctors. Not with devils. Not with anyone.”

“Cassian—”

“Did he touch you?” he asked, voice lowering to a deadly calm. “Tell me the truth, or I swear to God, I’ll gut him before you can finish lying.”

“He didn’t. I swear—”

“I want you to walk away from the car. Now.”

I stood rooted to the ground. “He’s just trying to help me get home.”

“Charlotte,” Cassian snapped, his voice a sharp blade. “Don’t make me lose what’s left of my fucking soul tonight. You get in that car, and I’ll hunt him down like prey. You think I’m bluffing?”

His voice dipped to a terrifying whisper.

“You know me better than that.”

“Why are you like this?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Because you’re mine,” he said without hesitation.